Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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Just before the beginning of school. Jim. the cherub- faced. blue-eyed, 'itifth grade, presented her with a bunch of coreopsia, drooping in the heat. and fairly gasping for water. He assured her that they would freshen. but she scarcely heard him. A sickening wave of homesickness came over her at the sight of the Howers. Coreopsisl what happy days they brought back! The spacious hen Filled with pe0v pie, the white clad girls. the Sound of the ocean as the gradu- ates stood silently waiting their turn to march in. thee Please, Miss Jerome. shall I get some water for the Rowers? Jim gazed at her wonderingly from the depths of his blue eyes. Yea, yea, Jim. clear, but hurry back. it's time to call the roll. Florence pulled herself together with an effort, The morning dragged and grew hotter and hotter. With infinite relief Florence dismisseci the children at noon and started for the mail box a quarter of a mile ciown the road. This had become the event of each lung monotonous day. Several fat letters repueed in the mail box. and with a satished smile she siid all but one into her blouse. This one, a pale pink frivolous affair. she ripped open in a hurry. uEstelle always writes the newaiest letters. she thought gratefully. Dearest little school ma'am chum, was the extrava- gant but satisfying beginning A clone observer would. how- even have ventureci a guess that the letter was far from being cheering tn Florence. As she read on, the feeiing of homesickness returned. She had never felt so alone and left out. Certain clauses in the letter were as fascinating as they were painful. HThe ocean is glorious now. We go in about once a day, and have the grandest timesJe-f' Some of the boys gave a dance last Saturday. Phil was therewi. Jack has a new car, a darling grey onb. 'iIt has been rather cool this week. i have played tennis till I am quite a shark. By the time she came to the characteristic signature. Florence had reached the point where tears or iaughter were inevitable, She wisely chose the latter; By the shades of all good coyotes! she cried out loud, Why doesn't something thrilling happen? I could stand almost anything better than this deathlike monotony. especially when everyone is having such a glorious time back home. Even a runaway would liven things up a bit.' The weeds at the side of the roaci moved. but, she thought. her something thrilling would have to be more exciting than a snake, after living on the desert seven or eight months. tFourteenJ

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CE 7 AW? lmigr e 7. 7 Wmth First Prize Upper Clan Story In the first place. the sun had risen with a glaring promise ol a scorching hot May day such as only Imperial Valley could produce. As she dressed. Florence had thought with a sigh of relief that it was Friday, which meant that two whole days. free from the trials ol 3 teacher. were very near. Florence was enthusiastic. ardent. and full of the realization of her splenclid opportunity in training young minds, never theless, she was only twenty, and to spend one's 1915!: eight months away from home in teaching school on the desert is as boresome an it is noble. Suddenly she stopped. with a hairpin poised in midAair. and sniffed suspiciously. Yes. it was all too trueehamecgand. horror of horrors. fried potatoes! She grimaced sympathetically at her reHeC- tion in the glass and then slowly and contemplatively slid the hairpin into place. Yes. it was Friday, but it was also the thirteenth. The ham and potatoes had ample time to get cold and grease-Itiffened while waiting for the men of the house to return from the morning chores, and Florence lost what little appetite she had had while helping Beth in the already stifling hot kitchen. The ride to the school house seemed longer and dustier than usual. but once in the shade of the cotton-wcod tree in the school yard she took heart. iThil-lvmn

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Florence sauntered on down the road reading the rest of her letters, then. realizing how late it was getting, she quickened her pace. As she neared the achooi, something unusual seemed to have happened. The children were gath- ered in an excited knot near the door. and were talking in loud shrill voices. When they saw her. they ran down the road with fright ened faces. ail talking at once in exasperatingiy incoherent phrases. i'Oh, teacher. it'a Jim! HPiemel let me go after him. And the stirrup was broken. too. Where do you think he in? Florence calmed the children as best she could and Hnally drew from them. bit by bit, the story of the accident. Jim had boasted openly of his ability to ride Flea. his frisky iittie pony. tn the Big Ditch and back again before the bell rang. One of the older boys had dared him to try it, and before any of the chiidren could stop him, he had saddled and bridled Flea and was OH. A few minutes iater the pony. damp and panting, galloped up, the saddle empty. and one stirrup hanging loose. The first feeling that Florence experienced was one of guilt. Why had she even thought of wishing for a runaway? Providence would have punished her justly if jim were killed. Helen. take charge of school while Iim gone, please, and keep the children interested. Bert. will you saddle two of the horses and come with me? Be good youngsters now, and we'll soon have Jim back here. She spoke with a conftdence she was far from feeling. but the chiidren were reassured and waved cheerily while she and Bert. the biggest boy in school. turned their horses' heads toward the Big Ditch and rode away. Half a mile from the school house they saw a team and proaching. Florence suddenly realized that appearances were against her if it should be anyone who knew her in the capacity of school ma'am. for to be off horseback riding with the oldest boy during school hours was hardly the proper thing. A quick glance told her that the driver of the team was Bill Dodge, the most severe and unreasonable member of the school boani. This would never do, so with a hurried word of explanation to Bert, she pulled her hat far over her eyes, dug her heels into her horse 3 sides and with averted face, passed the wagon in a cloud of dust. Bert grinned appreciativeiy, and they rode on in silence. As they neared the Big Ditch with as yet no sign of Jim, Florence grew still more anxious. The sun seemed to grow mmmn