Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 5 WHERE, OH, WHERE ARE THE FUTURE MARK ANTON YS? Last, but not least, among the institu- tions of this progressive High School is the Debating Society. It seems as though the Quincy High School Debating Society had this year been entirely overlooked in the maelstrom of our happy-go-lucky High School life. Desperate efforts are being made by the members to stave off a lean year. We call for your personal help. We await your response. The Q. H. S. D. S., when its member- ship is complete, which so far this year is far from being the case, is composed of fifteen Seniors, ten Juniors, and five Soph- omores. Meetings are held every other Thursday at 7.30, beginning with the first Thursday in October, ending with the last regular meeting in June. At every meet- ing a prepared debate on some current topic takes place between two of the sev- eral teams which compose the Society. The execution of business, discussion and expression of personal opinions on the subject debated is the regular procedure. Now and then a lecture, or an interesting talk, or adjournment to the gym for bas- ket-ball varies the usual course. Once, usually toward the end of the year, a ban- quet and dance, or an outing, or a theatre party is held, the condition of the treasury permitting. The training of the future orators and lawyers is supervised by Mr. Jewell, as- sisted by Mr. Dawson, a Harvard man, well versed in the age-old art of oratory. This year, unlike previous years, appli- cations for membership have been few. We do not believe that this implies a lack of earnest, desirable men, men who are looking into the future, who wish to learn how to stand on their own two feet and say what they mean in a straightforward, logical manner. Unfortunately, there are very, very few students who can safely say they can do this. Who has not secret- ly dreamed of swaying vast audiences with a golden flow of oratory? Which one of you has not envied the ease and grace and the connected flow of speech of some plain, quiet-spoken man in contrast with his own stumbling, stuttering red-faced delivery? Take, for instance, the case of the Alumni a short while ago. Every one of them who achieved a fair measure of suc- cess formerly belonged to the Q. H. S. D. S. But this is only a minor example. Fellow classmates: the Q. H. S. D. S. will show you the way to be able to say what you want to say in the right way. No, girls, you are natural-born speakers. Two debates have been arranged for this year—Quincy High vs. Everett High, January 27; Quincy vs. Cambridge Latin, in March. The caliber of these opponents shows the quality of Quincy High’s debating teams. SOMETHING NEW Science students, attention! How in- terested are you in your study? Are you one of those who are fortunate enough to have a radio set? Are you interested in machines or any other practical side of science? If you are, the Golden Rod staff invites and urges you to tell about it in the next issue. This should be both interesting and helpful to every one. Per- haps some other fellow is puzzled by something which you understand. Explain it to him. Perhaps through this column you can make the acquaintance of some- one interested in the same thing you are. Perhaps you can awaken another student to the interesting side of science. Let’s hear from you. VALENTINE’S DAY Valentine’s Day? From the appear- ance of our corridors one would judge that Quincy High had a perpetual Valentine’s Day. This fault, or bliss, spread widely through the school is most pronounced in the upper classes, as we see w. k. faces strung plentifully along the second floor corridor and occasionally a beleaguered couple seeking solitude on the third floor. If only some of the science students could invent a method of sending the vision of the enchanting physiognomy to the en- chanted along with telephone calls so that the faculty need no longer be annoyed by these victims of the mischievous Cupid!

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4 THE GOLDEN-ROD BASKET-BALL ONCE MORE Once more, Quincy High has a basket- ball team with a regular prepared inter- scholastic schedule. The ban is off this great winter sport, in which Quincy made such a formidable reputation a few years ago. Already a number of games have been played, and the showing of the team indicates a successful season. But, bas- ket-ball fans, you realize, do you not, that your conduct at the games decides whether or not this privilege will last long? Therefore, it is necessary for every one, in the excitement, to remember to act like a real sport and keep “the lid” off basket-ball. Teachers! Where are the sage proverbs and verse selections that contained so much of earthly and divine wisdom which had a conspicuous place on the boards last term? They would be welcome back. OUR LIBRARY The reader’s attention is called to the library column in the school news section. The whole student body should be inter- ested in this column, as it represents one of the most important departments of the whole school. Quincy High is very fortu- nate in having such a library within the school. It is a fact that Quincy High has the largest library of any school in the vicinity. That the library is filled to an overflowing condition before and after school and at recess shows that the major- ity of the school body are taking advan- take of this great convenience, and find it an indispensable asset to their school work. But have you ever thought that there are many enjoyable things in the library which can be found and appreci- ated only at your leisure? If your studies permit it and you have a spare study period, why not spend it browsing around the library? You will find that the librarian has the time then to answer your questions in a far more comprehensive manner than at rush periods. In this way our library could be run at full blast all the while, as it should. Show your appre- ciation of the librarians’ effort to build up the library. EDITORIAL Shortly after the first copy of the Golden Rod came out, the staff received an anonymous letter from “A Senior” criticising the manner in which the news editor had reported about the two staffs of the Golden Rod. The criticism was as follows: “On page nine of the first number of the Golden Rod the article, ‘Class News,’ says that the September, 1922, class elected its staff, ‘the members of which will be found in the first page of this issue.’ I was exceedingly disappointed in my search, though I examined diligently— even with a microscope—for a trace of the members. Would you advise me to try a higher powered microscope, used for the detec- tion of minute organisms,, or should I visit an optician?” Now, the staff is most grateful for any criticism that is offered by a student of the school whose first thought is wholly for the improvement of his school paper. However, when a person writes in this mood, which seems to be a wholly mali- cious and spiteful one we are in doubt whether to accept it or not. Furthermore, a student who is afraid to put his or her name to his assertions is hardly to be noticed. We could have easily found out who the student was who wrote such a sar- castic criticism. However, we concluded that it was not worth the trouble and that the student, reconsidering since, would be highly embarrassed if we discovered who he was. We hope that in the future any student passing in a criticism will not forget to put his or her signature to his work, for it will receive a great deal more attention and respect. The Christmas concert certainly was a great success, giving everyone a great deal of enjoyment for five cents. Surely we are all looking forward to another in the near future. Speaking of concerts, the Quincy Teach- ers’ Association deserves praise for secur- ing the Harvard Glee Club for the concert January 10, 1922.

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THE LAND OF THE LOST It was gone. There was no doubt of that. Search high, search low, my foun- tain pen was nowhere to be found. I could have sworn that it had rolled under the bookcase; yet the flashlight revealed nothing. Exasperated, I dropped onto the davenport before the fire and watched the shadows flicker across the ceiling. Finally, disgusted and perplexed, I mut- tered to myself, “I don’t see why I can’t find it.” “You don’t, eh?” piped a squeaky voice, bubbling with laughter. With a start, I jerked my head in the direction of the sound, and there I saw— well—you probably won’t believe me, be- cause scientists say that they don’t exist outside of fairy tales—but I saw, with my own eyes—a gnome. His wizened little face crinkled into a maze of furrows as he peered at my flab- bergasted countenance through a pair of horn spectacles, perched precariously on a blab of a nose. His hands, peeping from the mysterious depths of his sleeves, seemed to be poised, prepared to swoop down and snatch something away. “Well, who on earth are you?” I gasped. “Oh, I’m not of the earth. Can’t you see my badge of office?” he answered im- patiently, holding a clutching hand beau- tifully worked in gold, which dangled from a long chain about his neck. The fingers of this hand seemed to be ani- mated with the eagerness of a lion watch- ing unsuspecting prey. They so fascinated me that I forgot to answer the gnome, who was waiting expectantly. “Stupid! Don’t you understand yet? Come on, then, and I’ll show you.” So saying, he clambered onto one end of the davenport and slowly waved his wand above his head. The davenport glided forward like a roller coaster, gaining momentum all the time, while the walls receded till I thought I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Then, without any warning, the davenport shot over an abyss. There I sat, my eyes bulging from my head, every nerve and muscle tense, watching the hea$of the davenport reluctandy dip down. Then an agonizing pause before we dived into what seemed to be eternity. Down, down we shot. I felt as if my stomach had lagged far, far behind, yet was still connected to me by some tugging elastic band. After ages, a patch of hard earth jumped up to meet us. I took a long breath, shut my eyes, and awaited the inevitable impact, but much to my surprise we floated gently to a resting place. It was not until I had collected my scat- tered senses and the lagging parts of my anatomy that I discovered we were in the shadow of a towering wall. The old man was standing in front of a curious gate. “Hey! you lazy mortal!” he cried with impatience, “come on.” “If you please, sir,” I said as meekly as possible, “where are we and what are we going to do?” At this, the gnome danced up and down with rage, shrieking: “You numb-skull! Why, you ought to have guessed that long ago! What were you doing during our pleasant ride down? You—-you—” Here he paused, inarticulate with fury. I took the safest course and kept quiet. Then he said: