Paris High School - Arena Yearbook (Paris, IL)

Page 12 text:

 THE YEAR BRINGS Get on the band wagon.” Our assembly line—milk for young Americans. Uncle Bill” ponders and puffs. Scientific seniors, perhaps future Einsteins— Dahlgrcn, Norman, I;oley, and Idleman. You see, Joe, I be changes don't show up on the surface where one can see them from tlx out- side, hut there arc many, very many. For example, the faculty has dunged considerably. Mr. Shake is teaching in the place of Mr. Wend holt—defense work. Trulock is gone—Air Corps. He's teach- ing t ye fledgling navigators. Miss Balmer took his place; now she has left—matrimony. Afr. Hoke, at last, us the math classes which lud begun to consider t Item selves the lost tribes of Paris High. This year Coach Deacon Swecley is teaching us seniors American history. It is his job to s jow us as vividly as possible t e back- ground of America—the reasons we uve to fight. During the first semester World History classes were taught by another newcomer, Mr. Mills. Uncle Sam liked him as well as we did, so he left in December for Miami, a commission, and the air corps. Mr. Gillum is gone, too, resigned after many years of service. Bill, as he was affectionately called, was an integral part of P.H.S. for years. You'd often see him sitting in the boiler room smoking his pipe in contemplation. It’s strange not to find him down t jere. Goffie is still custodian in more ways than one. W ut would we ever do without his understanding interest? We are far from the sea here in Paris, Joe, but it seems that everyone in town us a bit of

Page 11 text:

The inevitable drone of the class bell, t! e nemesis of high school life, still summons us from and to toil. Bells are rung automatically this year, Joe. Sometimes the system works; sometimes it doesn't. First its notes were shrill, metallic, and much too loud, and then its voice sank to a mere rattle, inaudible in some parts of the building. Now it sounds like a telephone, but we can Ixar it at least. Most of us take it as a joke. Funny thing, tlx American sense of humor. As long as tlx sc wol exists, the line in front of tlx prin- cipal's office will remain. Nothing could change this. Every morning tlx column forms, waits nervously to see the prin- cipal and to receive a permit to enter class. Expressions are varied upon the waiting countenances. Some are impatient, seeming to consider this a formality that could be eliminated. Others are plainly worried; will lx believe t xir excuse—be it truth or prevarication? A few are quiet, assured, calm. Per Imps this air has been acquired through time and experi- ence. Each day it is like this. You must have stood in line, too; remember? It's all tlx same, Joe: tlx girls gat xr in the halls; tlx boys in tlx locker room. Remember tlx hiss and muffled roar of tlx boiler on a cold morning and tlx sulphuric stench of wet aslxs when tlx furnace is cleaned. Still tlxre are wadded lunch papers on tlx assembly desks after noon hour while tlx blackboards proclaim the meeting of various clubs and committees. Tlx library is filled with studious people, and t!x se optimistic souls w jo come in merely to loiter in !x)pes of escaping tlx threat of work. You haven't forgotten t xtse meetings in tlx auditorium, have you, with tlx tumultuous student body strangely thoughtful as they stand in singing tlx hallowed refrain of Tlx Orange and tlx Black. Tlx old sclxrol is very much the same now, Joe, as when you were here.

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CHANGES the ocean in bis blood. Every day young men join tlx navy; the women, too. Miss Gisolo saw it Ixr duty to take a commission in tlx WAVES. The girls miss Ixr, but six looks trim, efficient, and somehow indestructible in navy blue. TIxre’s another you can't forget—Miss Wenz. Although she has retired now, six is and forever will be a part of P.H.S. Imst year, when tlx time came for Ixr to say good-bye, six made a speech. She was brave and immensely proud of us all; yet Ixr eyes misted, six bit Ixr lips once or twice, and her voice broke momentarily. We pretended not to notice because deep in our lx arts we knew lx)w six loved tlx school. Yes, Joe, we are far from the war, but it is not far from us. The milk line in the assembly at noon is an indication of our part in tlx na- tional nutrition program. Lights burn at night in tlx rooms where Defense Classes study, and pre-induction courses arc open to boys of military age. Cadet training is offered at the Armory each week. Physics classes spend extra time on prob- lems of air navigation. Seniors pour over Airways maps, working with compass and protractor plot- ting courses. A pile of scrap towering on the front lawn; nearly two tons of it. December seventh, all students meeting to buy stamps and bonds. Sales soar, over one thousand dollars. Stamp booth in hall. Boys and girls, who have in six months become men and women in tlxir thoughts and ideals, loaning part of tlxir allow- ances to win the war. Don't worry; we feel if Ixre—we feel it and are proud. Ensign Margaret Gisolo traded her P.H.S. gym classes for a commission in the WAVES. Wendell Blair left our commercial department to serve Uncle Sam. Carolyn L. Wenz closed the door on her career as high school principal last May.