Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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HIGH SCHOOL ENTERPRISE ’0 7. fl Senior’s Seven Ages Shakespeare says, and we will continue to quote him for a time yet despite the adverse criticism of our friend Tolstoi, thai “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts. His acts being seven ages.” Now the great English bard was right, but he might also have said that while before the footlights on the “world’s stage” one plays through seven ages long before he reaches the act of “second childishness and mere oblivion.” A High School Senior, whose years have been numbered by but few turnings of the hour glass, has played through seven ages; the first, the Nursery, where ills are manifold, and where the talcum can proves of great¬ er worth than all the mines of India, and where the canister which holds the catnip tea is the true “Fountain of Youth;” the next, the Kindergarten, where work is play, and where the young idea learns to shoot so that in the later years the blowgun and the rubber band w ' hich throw the paper wad can be manipulated with the skill of years; and third, the Grammar School, where lessons wax yet harder and the novelty of knowledge is replaced by grind, and he begins to realize that grammar sets the pace for things unpleasant.; and when at last he graduates from Grammar School and thinks he’s free, behold, he’s ushered into things yet more severe—he finds himself in High Scliool; if life was rushing in his earlier days it is strenuous here, for what with original problems in Geometry, and conjugations of Latin verbs which ne’er were used except by people long since dead, and efforts to commit long; passages of English prose or verse life fast becomes a weary drudg ' e. Now comes the fourth act in the play, he becomes a Freshman; with timid step he treads the halls and creeps all round the house to find the of¬ fice; he laughs with childish glee to hear the noise of an alarm clock which he has hid behind the bust of Caesar, and thinks there’s little left to learn when he has mastered “Whiskety.” As Sophomore he’s wise—we know he’s wise because he tells us so— and seeks to give advice to friend and foe, to Freshmen and to Faculty, but comes to find that hfs advice counts all for naught and is not followed even in emergency. And now comes the Junior, much elated over his escape by a scant “C’ from his former class, and feeling proud to think it now becomes his? 12 —

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Tl e SeQior Class

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HIGH SCHOOL ENTERPRISE ’ 0 7- right to advise the verdant Freshie just ud from Grammar School. He teaches him to fill too full the stove which heats the study hall and then to turn the damper square across to cause a smoke. Last scene of all, when having passed through all the grades below, he comes to the High School student’s last estate, the Senior. He spells his name in capitals, and wonders how the school existed half so long before he came. Now the class of Nineteen Seven has well nigh played its seventh act; its history is brief and plain; each started life at an early age, but each has kept it up till on the day they graduate the number of their years is two hundred three, three months and twenty days; their height is one and sixt feet, and weight combined exceeds a half a ton. Seven found their earliest home in California; one other came from Bryan’s state; from Idaho anothei started out, while still another came from far-off Illinois. ’Twas left to one to fill the measure up by being born across the sea; Er kommt her aus dem Vaterland and singt “Die Wacht am Rhein.” In politics each has his choice though none have voted yet; three fall in line with Democrats and eight, the G. O. P. But e’en the Senior has his trials; the under class-men do not lift their hats to him, and oft the Faculty remind him that there must needs be more of study, and that he must pass the final “ex” in History, and finish up experiments in Chemistry, if he would be in line for flowers on graduation night. But there is recompense; upon that last glad night when papa, mamma, and the “folks” are ranged in smiling rows across the hall, he marches in the while the orchestra plays something new to which he keeps not step; and then some noted speaker from afar points out the fact that all the world wants this same Senior lad, and it will have him, too, if some unkind fate doth not befall; and then the flower girls have “their exits and their en¬ trances” and flowers are piled up high around his feet; at last the president calls out his name and hands him his diploma. Next day he has his picture taken with his flowers and his diploma, and passes on to be forgotten just like all the rest who have preceded him. And thus it is that room is made for other folks to play their parts and spend their little hour upon the stage. A. B. WAY. Umpire (at base ball game)— “Foul” Small boy, “Where are its feathers?” Umpire, “You goose, this is a picked team.” Ex. — 13 —