Plymouth State University - Conning Tower Yearbook (Plymouth, NH)

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22 “Til E CONN I NG TOWER ’ 19 2 8 Commencement is here and we are proud of the honor to In the first four year class to graduate from 1 N. S. We know that our extra year has aided us both intellectually and socially, causing us to be better equipped to uphold the high ideals of our Alma Mater. M. McDonough, M. Stevens. Class Prophecy Ten winters of teaching, five summers of study, at last the degree earned. “Oh dear, how glad 1 am of a chance to rest , 1 murmured to myself as I sank wearily into my ever welcoming, comfortable, old chair. But though weariness encompassed me within its embrace, my brain refused to stop its active exploring of a hundred and one different ideas. That morning I had raised sufficient courage to steel myself to the ordeal of asking my superintendent for a year’s leave of absence for travel. Contrary to my expectations he agreed heartily to my plans and assured me that lie would have no difficulty in dealing with the school board. I had triumphed,—and now to choose my traveling companion. From ten years of reality to one year of dreams! My eyes grew heavv-lidded. closed, and then—we were in India. India! that land of incense, mystery, beauty; that land of spices, sunshine, novelty. Wandering about the streets of Mandalay, we saw many vendors peddling their various wares and calling out in sing-song, monotonous voices. As we went along into a narrow, untidy side street, we noticed a lean, swarthy individual with a once clean turban wound around his head, bowing obsequiously to us and motioning for us to come nearer. 1 hesitated because everything seemed so obnoxious; but my friend urged that we see what he had to offer, so we went up to where he was standing. As we drew nearer we noticed a clear, sparkling crystal resting on a snowy, white cloth brought into sharp relief against the man’s filthy appearance. Mere was a fortune teller, and nothing would do but that my friend must have her future foretold. As she snt cross-legged on a heap of cushions, the Indian Cautioned her to maintain silence. However, it was not her future she was to behold, but those of her former classmates of Plymouth Normal School. My friend watched skeptically at first, and then intently. I leaned forward to see at what she was gazing. Figures appeared in the crystal and we watched spellbound. What were those indistinct figures. Ah! They were getting clearer and clearer and we gasped as we saw a familiar, well loved figure preparing tin excellent food for our President at the White House. Many a time during our four years at P. X. S. we had sampled Tillies cooking; but we never expected her to receive the highest culinary honor in the United States, although we always knew that she would rise to great heights.

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“THE CONNING TOWER” 192 8 21 We were all interested in the semi-annual election held in February, because our class-mate, Betty, was elected governor. Leah, who had served as our president for a year and a half, now transferred her responsibilities to Ruth. The main feature of the year for the C’s was the presentation of “The Merchant of Venice”, given before the public and the student body. Graduation this year was especially sad to us because of the leaving of our school-mates with whom we had entered. Chapter III. Back again! What a radical change! We were informed that the three year courses had been extended to four years. Thus our class was to separate, seven of our members leaving at the end of the year. Although divided, we still co-operated and considered ourselves united. Men believe themselves to be highly capable of carrying on political affairs, so we gave Jimmy an opportunity to verify this fact by selecting him as our class president. Some of us enjoyed the real experiences of a teacher by training in the Model School, Orford High School and by substituting. After three years of eventful college life, an exclusive C3H3 party was held at Langdon Park, as a farewell to our classmates who were leaving at the end of this year. The Commencement this year was more impressive to us, because we realized that half of our class would not be with us in September. Chapter IV. September 13, 1!)27. and we are truly seniors! IIow different everything is, many new faculty members, hour periods, and our class in the minority, numbering only eight. Our first semester classes consisted of six members because Maizie and Eva were out training. The week-end of October 8. found all the members of the C4 class at Loonside Camp, with Miss Hodgdon and Miss Neely as chaperons. Since then, the cry of the class has been, “When can we go again?” The various social functions this year were the Governor’s ball, the Christmas party and pageant, and the Valentine party. We feel that we have been well represented in the extra-curricular activities, in the Christmas and June pageants by Dot. Maude, and Teddy; in student government by Dot, Steve, Teddy, Maude and Mick; in athletics by Dot, Steve, Maude, Teddy, Maizie and Til lie. Dot is our debater and Maizie, our actress.

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“THE CONNING TOWER ’ 192 8 23 The jolly face and expanse of white apron faded and another scene met Our view. We saw the busy typewriting room at P. X. S. Suddenly the faces of the pupils sobered down to strict attention as a slender figure, with a stern, important look, entered the room. This young woman with the dignified bearing was tin head of the Commercial Department, Eva Avery. The magician snapped his fingers and the picture vanished, but it had no sooner disappeared than another, in a far different setting was outlined. Moonlight on the Mediterranean! Could anything be more romantic? A ship was sailing smoothly over silver waves. But what did we see—a woman captain? It could not be. Yes it was Marion Stevens, otherwise known as Steve, who was well known for her fearlessness of the turbulent deep. The ship? The United States steamer. Loon Lake. A quick wave of the hand over the crystal and the picture was gone, but still another came to take its place. Instead of quiet, peaceful waters we saw a busy, modern office. Behind a door marked “Private , a smartly dressed woman was dictating letters. One could tell by her face that she was happy and entirely in her element, doing the work she loved; for she was Editor-in-Chicf of the Pictorial Review, her long treasured magazine. Who was it. you wonder? Why it was none other than our Maizie. We laughed as we had often laughed before at Maizie and her Pictorial Review. Then we became excited! Our favorite game was being played—small wonder we were interested. The two teams contesting for the winner’s trophy were Posse and Sargent. The whistle blew, the game was ended, and the coaches rushed to congratulate their players. One, the coach of Sargent, a tall, slender girl with light hair, seemed familiar to us. and as she came nearer the familiarity changed into recognition. It was Mick Eastman. At last she had conquered athletics. The crystal became clouded. It had still one other story to tell us. Again we saw an office, but far different from the one seen before. The last of the familiar figures was a tall, graceful girl with black, naturally marcelled hair. Site was clad in a stiff, white dentist’s garment, and we saw her busily carrying on experiments in a vain endeavor to discover why hens do not grow teeth. So this was still a matter of wonderment to Teddie. Slowly the land of dreams was replaced by reality. Instead of reclining on the Oriental cushions of the Hindu, I found myself reposing in my armchair. Only a dream, but during that dream I had lived again happy memories of those tried and true friends at P. N. S. DProtn v Morrisosr, Maude Wilkins.