North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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DDE iVhen yet unfathomed Time has had its way .Xnrl days of youth has snatched from out our grasp, Then these let us remember: zest in play .ind work, our present joy and future hope l'nstainerl as yet by doubt, and laughter gay Voncealing petty selfishness and pain That pass, but leave their imprint, 'neath the sway Of blithe Euphrosyne, who rules in youth. But not with mocking jest of heart grown dry, Nor bitterness of disillusionment- Let higher worth in recollection lie, That we, with thought of glorious past intent .ind confidence, a golden gage may see- -X stirring challenge to ourselves to be. Marion Mainwaring Page Thirteen

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GENE SPRAGUE Vice President CLASS DFFICEIQS XYARREN BRVCE Preszzielzf WILLIAM MOODY Treasurer INEZ SIMMONS Secretary

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IQEMEMIBEIQ WHEN Seventh Grade-That was the year the seventh grade was boarded out to any grammar school that would give them school room. lYe worked up an appetite every noon tramping over the hill to the cafeteria. The hours we spent in the shops and sewing rooms according to sex made us feel like the country mouse come to visit his city cousin. In the grammar school we were somebody, for we went to Junior High, but here in this huge community we were small fry. To the members of the traffic squad we were that paradox which must not only be ignored but also be kept in line and prevented from sliding down the banisters. However, we had our big moments. Remember the Junior Carnival? Ah! Now there was a whirl of abandoned gaiety and all for one quarter of a dollarw Ladies and gentlemen, moom' pitchers, basketball, amateur show, with an evening of dancing to the tripping strains of the Trust-Busters. The novelty of going to Junior High had only begun to pall when we found that it was really time to become a loose screw in an educational machine, for the eighth grade was near at hand. 4 Eighth GradeARemember the thrill of taking your rightful place in the complex scheme of things academic and unacademic? Here we Hrst encountered Vocational Guidance in its most pernicious form, Vocational Civics. Just as the conjuror says, Pick a card, any card, so the instructor said to us, Pick a voca- tion. Every girl was going to be a career woman, a stylist, an interior decorator, just as all the boys were to build the Boulder Dams and the Golden Gate bridge spans of the future, sit on the Supreme Court, or be G llen. We watched endless movies of other people at work, striking oil wells, making matches from California redwoods, balancing the national budget, or collecting the municipal garbage. lVe were initiated into the mysteries of simple and not so simple interest: we computed endless examples in which we were shown how to determine the amount to which a principal of 541.98 at a scandalous rate of interest would amount to by the time we were 99.4-L years old. After we had Hgured for three weeks, our benefactors showed us how to use a compound interest table which we promptly forgot how to use and had to be instructed in again in llath Review. Later they tried to soften the blow of ninth-grade algebra by perplexing us with problems concerning A, B, and c the was the little boyl and n eggs. However, like most good intentions they only paved the way to . . . the ninth grade. Ninth Grade-Now we were somebody tat least we thought soj for we organ- ized our class and ran our own gala affairs. Having learned how to balance the budget according to the laws of supply and demand, diminishing returns, and other erudite complexities in Economic Civics, we were privileged to see if we could make the outcome match the income. The duly elected officers found that in order to have a class dance they must first teach the class to dance. So the afternoon dancing classes came into being. The fox-trot and the waltz were still the dances for the ballroom, and lessons in these Terpsichorean feats alternated with discourses on the social etiquette of gum-chewing. There was a Spring Dance as a preliminary to the Prom in June. Contrary to the misconception of the present generation the now hoary-headed seniors did not dance in crinoline Page Fourteen