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

Page 26 text:

I6 CAERULEA '20 EMBARRASSING MOMENTS Frances Harvey '20 It was Friday afternoon. Inside the sewing room that was serv- ing as a temporary study hall. not a sound could be heard except the occasional rustle of paper. High Life was out, and a dozen heads Were bent over the tables, while a down pairs of eyes eageriy scanned the account of the latest pigskin victory or gave a glance at the cen- tury-old jokes. I, for one, was following the hero of the game as he bravely fought through the enemyIs line and dashed down the field unhindered. Suddenly I was conscious oi the fact that the study hall teacher was gliding first to one person and then to another, giving each a penny lecture ior readipg our peppy paper when our lessons needed our attention. I could hear her say, Are you such a brilliant student that you can afford to waste your time? Reluctantly, I left my hero just as he was ready to leap over the line and score the final touch-down. Quickly and silently, I folded that precious sheet of paper and tucked it beneath my books. Just as the teacher reached my side, I managed to get my geom- etry book open, and began to study carefully a proposition which I had never seen before nor was expected to see for a whole semester. I knew that my attitude was one of deep study, and I was men- . taliy patting myself on the back for having escaped a bawling' out. Imagine my chagrin when I felt the teacher's hand on my shoulder and heard her declare. At last, I have found a girl who does not Shirk her fob. And she is a girl who can always be counted on to have her lessons, too. Do you suppose she would waste her time reading High Life when she knew there was work to be done? No, never! Miserably ashamed of myself anti yet too weak to confess my guiit, I lowered my head. If only I haci kept on reading my High Life!

Page 25 text:

nu manna , Jennie Grace Swanson '20 I cannot fathom this strange soul, Some call my Self, that hides in me: it seems that I play just a role, While Self is chafing to be free. And oft. I wonder if I'm true. To Self, that strives to point my way: I long, and wish that I but knew Just how to be my Self, one day. I know that Self is often grieved At things I do and say and think; Yet, Self can never be deceived, Though I pretend, and let Self sink. Come forth, My Self, and let me be Forever loyal, true to thee.

Page 27 text:

LITERARY 17 MASKS OFF Helen Dana Starkey '20 A lass there was both coy and sweet- As fair as any maiden. But Romance never could she meet-w- Her heart was heavy-laden. Although she. was a corner lass- Her beauty nigh perfection, Her eyes did binder and harasw They looked in each direction. For keen adventure did she pine, That iascinates in fiction, But would-be suitors drew the lino- Her eyes were the restriction. Came Hallowefcn and she enthused O'er masque and celebration. She longed when all her friends eifused To ioin on this occasion. She chose a suit which emphasized Her piquant charm and beauty. She masked her eyes, and thus dkguised, Bade Cupid mind his duty. It was not long before her quest Of romance and adventure Was ended in a way at best Harsh critics can not censure.