Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 OUR ADVERTISERS The Golden Rod has a substantial list of advertisers and yearly the question comes to us, ‘‘Does it pay to advertise in your quarterly?” The answer is always in the affirmative, for the majority of the pupils patronize those merchants who ad- vertise in the Golden Rod. In some cases High School classes have sent out of town for purchases because of the better sam- ples and more reasonable terms submit- ted by other firms. Quincy merchants help support our school magazine and we, in turn, should give them our business to show confidence in their work. Give them a fair chance, even a slight preference, and they will stand behind us in school enterprises. Trade in Quincy! F. I. RIDING THE WAVES “There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,” said Will Shakespeare. So say we all, but, as Shakespeare was the first one to say it, he receives the credit. But do we all heed Shakespeare’s wise words? No, a glance at the annual college exam- ination returns will assure anyone of that. Year after year, thousands of high school students watch the “tide” go by unheed- ed, and then when thoughts of college stir them to action they find that the “tide” has gone by so far that it’s no use. Now is the time for Sophomores and Juniors to grasp the educational advantages and opportunities that are flowing their way. “Grasp them,” we say, for the opportu- nities which now arc flowing to you will just as surely recede when you reject them, and a great deal of their value will be lost. Study hard, do diligently the homework assigned, retain all that the teachers give you, and you will ride on the crest of the waves on or near the honor roll. Seniors, whether you have grasped by-gone opportunities or not, now is the time to work with a will and partially, at least, offset those that have escaped you. If you have studied dili- gently in grammar school and the past high school years, the Senior year, the last “tack” on the course, will not be very hard for you—of course, you don’t know that, but “the saddest part of it is that you’ve been on the toboggan a long time before you realize it.” The courses may seen long and hard, but before long you will find that you are in the “home stretch,” riding in on the “flood tide” which has been accumu- lating all these years. Then in the clos- ing chapters of your high school career— the final months of the Senior year—isn’t it a great feeling to know that you have taken the tide at its proper time and in the proper way; to know that college examinations hold no fear and that there is no need of last minute studying! That is the reward for utilizing high school years to advantage, and it’s well worth it. Let’s go Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors—boost the Honor Roll and Col- lege Examinations. Gordon Peterson. June, ’27. COLLEGE EXAMINATIONS Mental quagmires! Banes of life! Towering doom! Inevitable destiny! College Examinations! The boy in the second scat will please tell me why these expressions arc synonymous. It has been my fate to go through oper- ations, crises, climaxes, and college exam- inations, and I would rather sniff the ether once more than inhale the examina- tions again. Imagine, if you dare, the birds flying hither and thither, the frog calling lightly to its mate in the fields below, the leaves of the trees already half-green in their endeavor to enter summer with success, the flies buzzing merrily around a room where one proctor and fifteen students, or I might say, aspiring collegiates are ar- ranged in checkerboard fashion in seats not the most comfortable in the world. Picture, if you can, the interior work- ings of the cerebra contained in the heads of these poor subjects, gladiators with algebra, huntsmen of English. I have squirmed in the torture chains of learning and know how it is to gaze

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6 THE GOLDEN-ROD To MR. FAXON Quincy High School is fortunate in hav- ing, among its many supporters, one who is deeply interested in the school and its sports. Mr. Henry M. Faxon has given Quincy High School the spacious athletic field on Coddington Street, near our splendid building. Although PfaffmaifT Oval is one of the best gridirons in this section, the hill making a natural bleacher from which to watch the games, the new field will in all probability be improved and enclosed to such an extent that it will surpass any of the neighboring high school gridirons. Word at hand also dis- closes the fact that the remainder of the land is to be divided and developed into more gridirons, diamonds, and perhaps later, a running track. To Mr. Faxon the pupils are grateful for this lasting gift. F. I. THE BIG SISTER CLUB What a wonderful opportunity for the girls of Quincy High School to get ac- quainted is the Big Sister Club, estab- lished by Miss Baker and carried on by- girls of Quincy High School. When the Sophomores first come from Junior High they feel very strange and lonesome, al- most like intruders in the big family of Juniors and Seniors. In order more per- fectly to unify these classes a Big Sister Club has been formed in which each Jun- ior and Senior is given a Sophomore for a “little sister.” The “big sister” has a duty, which soon becomes a pleasure, of introducing her “little sister” to all the girls she herself knows. So many of the girls find it hard to speak to those they do not know that it is a great opportunity to have someone introduce others to them. We are sure that Quincy High School and all its girls are very happy over the new found Big Sister Club. Louise Locke, June, ’27. OUTSIDE READING Four times during the school year there reigns at Quincy High the most bewilder- ing state of chaos ever seen in any well conducted house of learning. I am, of course, alluding to the four times when outside reading, the bane of so many school boys’ existences, is due. For about a week before the date set the school and the Thomas Crane Libraries are the scenes of agonizing “book hunts.” Some lazy persons have left their outside reading until the last minute, and are caught in the tide of other delinquents streaming in and out of the libraries with anxious, faces. All other studying is ne- glected. home work becomes a mere farce, and the mutual aim of all is to have their outside reading done on time. Even to the end some few careless persons neglect the duty, but there is no escaping it, for if it is not finished at the appointed hour one has just twice as much ahead. I suppose it is of no use to urge and preach at length, for human nature can- not be altered, and an unpleasant task is put aside as long as possible. But why think of it as such an ordeal: Of course if one waits, then has to dash through five hundred pages of uninteresting read- ing in an evening there is no pleasure in it; but really there are some lively, en- tertaining books on the reading lists, and if one takes example from the early bird, securing an interesting book and giving himself time to read it at leisure, one will find his task not at all hard—even pleas- ant. I’ll admit that some of the five-point books, dusty old biographies and essays, are dry. Why not then get two easier, more readable books and learn to enjoy outside reading, rather than struggle through a five-point, boresome book in order to get the distasteful task out ol the way in one sweep? The English teachers know how much they are helping us by acquainting us, willingly or no, with the famous writings of literature, so let us depend upon their wisdom, and since outside reading is in- evitable, make it pleasant for ourselves and for them. M. C.

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8 THE GOLDEN-ROD upon a gaily cavorting insect climbing up a part in the hair of a fellow sufferer and actually wish to become one myself. How easily the gentle fly doth leap both in and out the windows on examination day. Yes. the suspense is heartrending but, after all, we must go to college and, if we are determined on this point, we may as well be determined to take the examinations and pass them successfully, if possible. College examinations are hard but helpful. Paul Reardon, June, ‘27. BUMMING RIDES The dangerous practice of bumming rides, which is being indulged in by some of the pupils of Senior High, is indeed serious and entirely unnecessary. We have good car service to every part of our city. Why bother the busy motorist? A recent statement by the American Auto- mobile Association, which is urging a nation-wide campaign to end this ride bumming, says that hundreds of accidents are caused by this selfsame practice, and urges our parents to discourage this habit. Is this action necessary? Yes. We at Quincy High School can end the practice ourselves. A recent accident at Riverhead, L. I. has just made the most substantial contribution to this campaign. Two children were given a lift by a chauffeur and shortly afterward the car was demolished, the driver killed and the children seriously injured. If we all will remember that standing in the street or on the curb is dangerous and that in beg- ging rides one takes a big chance, there will be little cause of complaint in the future. F. I. SEEK YE PEACE? AUTUMN IS HERE Come where the sea wind howls, Where the raging breakers roar. Where the sea-gulls scream And the sunset gleam Is gilding the rocky shore. In the old brick chimney. Voices wierd and shrill Whisper to each other When all else is still. There where chaos is reigning. Where wind and sea are at strife. Your heart will find peace And glad release From the bitter struggle of life. By “Izzy,” ’27. It is raining, drip, drop. Splashing little plops upon the pavement. Drip, drop, like the tick, tock of my clock Always dripping, never changing Like the chirp, chirp of a cricket. The deadly monotone of rain Dripping, dropping (j Makes my heart Knock, knock, Like the heavy clop, clop Of horses’ hoofs on cobblestones Drizzly dripping, dreary rain. Won’t you stop your plip, plop Before my brain goes flip, flop? By ‘ Izzy,” ’27. Little leaves arc tapping ’Gainst the window pane. Something seems to tell us, Autumn’s here again. All the little tinted leaves, Dressed in every hue, Some in brown and yellow, Some in scarlet, too— When their task is over Go to rest their heads, On the little pillows, In their tiny beds. Soon the hand of Winter, Comes to tuck them in. And before we know it. Autumn’s gone again. Myrtle Richards.