Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

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Paxton High School Reflector 21 j lirrcny letter (3frilul Sains, (Our Jfnrmer papular (Teacher of “History Chicago, 111., May Day, 1920. My dear Catharine and Dean: In response to your request, asking me to write a “funny letter for the Reflector, I might begin, perhaps, by landing some Democratic candidate for tne Presidency. That, of course, would be sheer BUNK! (I can see Dean's hair rising in indignation.) I may add, however, that that is a PERSONAL OPINION. How I should enjoy being back with my history classes—particularly, at this time—when our country is in such a critical state! We are passing thru one of the greatest eras of American history, and it is up to each one of us, as American citizens, to keep himself well-informed, by reading the daily papers and current magazines. Discuss the affairs of the day, at home with your parents, and at school with your instructors. Listen to the opinions of others; read some more, and then form your own individual opinions. It is only by so doing, that we can promote true “Americanism,” hope to better conditions, and to progress. In after years, 1 am sure that my pedogogical ghost shall be seen flitting about the history room, calling out those sentiments to those who enter, for 1 believe in them so firmly. To those who hearken, all shall be well—to those who do not THE WRATH OF THE GODS shall surely fall upon their heads! I suppose you would like to know what 1 am doing. As my mother is still in the hospital, I am literally, monarch of all I survey. and am busy keeping house for my family—yea even to cooking! So far, there have been no disastrous results (to the family—not to the cooking!) As a side line. I am running a private, “Getting Fat” contest, against Annette Donnelly and Dr. Evans. Every time I read that one of their patients has lost a pound, ! try to gain one. So-far, I have about i 1-10 lbs. to my credit; so you see. you would hardly knew me. These lovely spring days take me back to Paxton and last spring, wha; a treat it was to be in the country! (I finally did learn the difference between a disc plough and a harrow.) The Ancient History hike, the weeny roasts, the trips to the woods, (1 mean, “timber ) for violets, with the little grey squirrels chattering overhead, the rides down the long country roads with the smell of newly ploughed fields, in the air. are things never to be forgotten. Yen are fortunate in knowing such real pleasures. I am glad to have this opportunity, also, to tell you all how much 1 appreciated the farewell exercises, given for me, as my heart was too full to do so, at that time. It is something that I shall remember all of my life. My classes and my students meant much to me, and I consider it a privilege to have worked with as fine a man as Mr. Bainum. No other school, (if I should

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20 Paxton High School Reflector ions name of “Picnic, when in reality, it was a Weenie Roast. And such weenies as they had! The menu consisted of buns, weenies, pickles and “P-i-e. (Ask certain Senior boys, who lost their dignity about the pies.) Then when it was all dark and spooky, and everything had been eaten up, the boys brought out the fireworks. Big mystery! how did all that sodium disappear from the Lab. and find its way to Horners Creek? At eight o’clock the “facultee” called a halt in the game, and the Seniors embarked for the homeward journey—but, strange to say. the gate could not be found. After running over stumps and once or twice nearly sending a cow to the next world, the object of our search was located and so out upon the broad highway the Seniors sped. PARODY ON “THE RAVEN.” ENGLISH IV. Once upon an evening dreary, while I pondered weak and weary. O’er the dreadful task assigned to me in English IV— Suddenly there came a ringing, as of someone gently singing, T’was the telephone a’dingling. ringing near the side hall door. ‘ Tis some lucky person. said I, “who’s not taking English IV — Only that and nothing more. And then I listened, only hearing, what I had just then been fearing, “For goodness 'sakes, go stop that phone at once, I do implore!” And as I went to step that ringing, stop that loud and raucous dinging, O’er the wires a voice came singing, heard by me so oft before. Let's go see Douglas, climbing chimneys, leaping trains, just as before— Always smiling evermore.” Alas, alas!” I gave my answer. “I wish I were a necromancer. Then this poem would be created for tomorrow’s English IV; But the fact is, though undaunted, I am almost being haunted, I must be quite enchanted, in this work I so adore: Fcr no ideas will come to my mind for English IV— Blankness here and nothing more.” New the silence is unbroken; no one since that time has spoken; And my work is nearly finished on the poem for English IV. And the more I've sat divining, with my head in thought reclining, I have made this sacred vow that I've never made before: That when this task is ended, my poetic life is o'er. Quoth my poor brain, “Nevermore.” —Frances Culver.

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22 Paxton High School Reflector teach again) can ever take the place of Paxton High School. I am going to try very hard to come hack for graduation. If there is a strike, I'll come if I have to walk! (History classes! there's an example of, ”stick-to-it-ive-ness!”) PEDAGOGUE BREAKS SPEED RECORD! To the graduating class, I send congratulations and best wishes for future success, and to you all, the best luck and every good wish. Most sincerely, (PROP.) DOROTHY EMILY DAVIS. P. S. I had intended this to be just a note, but it has turned out to resemble the “Epistle to the Ephesians.”—D. E. D. THERE LITTLE FRESH DON T CRY Apoligies to iRiiey—by Francis Wenger. There little Fresh don’t cry! They have broken your head 1 know; And beneath the cold clippers, You've been stuck for hours. But childish troubles will soon pass by— There, little Fresh don’t cry! There little Fresh don't cry! They have stolen your books, f know; And they’ve told you. What you must do. But you’ll be a Sophomore by and by— There little Fresh don’t cry! There little Fresh don’t cry! They have stolen your girl, I know; At the annual feed Where all will be, but you. But when exams’ arrive, the brutes will sigh— There little Fresh don’t cry! Kar v ARea • Chic o , Paxron, L oda.!