Oakmont High School - Periscope Yearbook (Oakmont, PA)

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A Iunior Text Book Speaks Its Mind The life of a history textbook is certainly hard, for here I am again, tossed into a corner with HIS grimy old cap and HIS muddy boots. Whew, but it's hot in here! That Iunior has stuffed me with a month's supply of paper that he'Il probably never use because the edges are get- ting ragged. I suppose I'll be blamed for that, among other things. Can I help it if I get hurled across rooms and dropped into puddles? Gosh, I wish I could stretch my binding. Oh, oh, here comes that Iunior again-I thought it was about time for me to be tripped over. Oooopsl I never met such big feet in all my life! Heavens alive, I really think he's going to pick me up! Maybe he's reformed . . . Nope, no danger of that . . . it was his hat he wanted: he's going to the movies. How any boy could have the nerve to drag me home, throw me around, and then not even look at me, is more than I can see. Well, the Iunior's gone, but here comes Iunior's mother to pick me up. Really, I don't mind her so much, for she always handles my broken binding carefully, but if only she would An Ode to a Iunior She is a Iunior and a blight: She raids the ice box late at night. When for a snack her brother's sent, To his dismay' the 1arder's spent. She rises late each chilly morn Her sweet disposition frayed and torn. Her books she snatchesg to the door she tears. If they're in the way, mort a ses freres - But to the dismay of one and all, She's left her war paint in the hall, And though I'm late, I climb the stair, To Search until I find it there. Before I get her off to school, I'll surely break each tardy rule-l Then-at school when she's good and moodyl She treats me like she would Yehudil -Frank Heinrichs, '45 CI-IER brotherl Miss Ray's proteges go to work . . . The library intrigues young and old. remember where she puts me. Ten-to-one, Iunior won't be able to find me in the morn- ing, and then he'll be late for school. Ho-hum. At least, if I'm bored I can read the lunior's notes. Here's one from lane . . . Dear Iohn- nie . . . that girl can find more ways of saying the same thing! There are some notes in me from Mary, too. Wow, if lane ever found that out! . . . Well, Iohnnie'd squirm out some way. He'd probably blame that on me, too. Really, I can't say that I enjoy being in this bookshelf. I'm afraid someone might want to read me, and I'd be so embarrassed if he should see my dog- eared pages. But, I guess there's no danger of that. No one in his right mind would venture past my mud-stained cover. Even the bool:- worms seem to prefer Shakespeare, old and tough as he is. That Iunior certainly has been a bit rough with me. But after all, I do have a number of pretty bothersome dates in my pages. I hope SOMEDAY I will belong to a Iunior who likes history books IUST A LITTLE. -Eleanor Jo Heinrichs, '43

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CLASS 1943 OFFICERS IOSEPH Wl-IITLEY --..-....-..---.-.- Treasurer LYON PORTER .-4----...-- .-.- V ice President EDWARD LEWANDOWSKI . .. ....... President The Four Officers and Room Representatives PATRICIA DAWKINS ..... ..... S ecretary Plan Eagerly for the Prom 5 ROOM REPRESENTATIVES Standing: Kathryn McCormick Russell Skinner Seated: Marjorie Eva Margaret Wood George I-leyl Robert Henderson Absent: Peggy Connelly Orlando DeThomas A PAGE FROM THE DIARY OF A IUNIOR Friday, I3 Dear Diary: Today should have been unlucky. It was just another ordinary school day. I started off by having my usual race against Old Man Time. With the last bell still echoing, I slid into lO5 and having deposited my books on my desk, returned to the hall to retrieve my mitts. In my lone morning study hall I vainly tried to prepare ALL my neglected lessons. At the Bzz of Old Faithful I faced Miss Barber for a session of Latin ll. The room, whispering scornfully, jeered at me, You don't know your lesson: she's sure to call on you. With book in hand and eyes glued on Miss Barber's face, I waited for her to pronounce the next name, Trembling all over, I heaved a sigh of relief as she spoke to someone across the room. The next two periods in typing and shorthand were quite uneventful. The incessant tapping of the keys and endless upside down, lop-sided short- hand lines characterized these two intervals. My lunch hour was divided among answering Mother's questions, studying American history, and trying to regain my lost energy with the restoring vitamins in a sandwich and a glass of milk. Mr. Muzzey, the historian for the O. H. S. juniors, was then thoroughly and cruelly dis- cussed by Mr. Shuker and his fifth period class. This hectic session was succeeded by the as- sembly period which, in our home room, meant time for notes, gum chewing contests, debates on the war, and an amateur hour. My seventh period was spent in Mrs. Foster's English class where themes and book reports were OALMLY announced in the same breath. These, as any junior will verify, mean plenty of hard work. To maneuver an army of periods and commas through these things is like trying to control the spinning in my head. New worries came in the next period gym class where Miss Gil- lespie withstood the volley of lost gym shoes, forgotten keys, and nightmares of buttonless gym suits. Home again, home again, was our chant as we turned our faces once more toward our domiciles. Thus, dear Diary, you see this ''should-be-superstitious'' day was just normal, junior routine. -Aluera Honsperger, '43

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