Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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.idk d M he ,::s5s:u.xzmrvamssumzrasiezw-Eigamaze:-mn.ez.,a2-sz,... 'mf-1. 1. 'aw .. ref- ist!-zzrvai: 2' - .. gi ' a V., .N-ii? ff' : ' . ,,.,,. 21: f a. 5- . L 1 ' A .. , -A , T . - .i .M-T iT r ':7 . ,. ' T 1' f I Q: .,, .. 9.5 ... xi- 1- gi ' 'z 1 g ' i -42? is f if r Q 'ff-5 5,311-x if- .. w .Eel -T 1' -0 -. 0 . ' ' ' ., ' . A , .. f '. , 3 ,av -M-maaxes-me-as-nf:1au:awv.:'f:+ ae -f- La ' 5 , . .s .J If 3. f V ..-9 ' 5 'Z L . ' .V . 5 .1 xp ji' . -Mgt 3 -f F' M' ' i .fr 2- f I 3 1. 1, , E - . A N i if ' .X ' 'Ui 'fIt is only I, answered a musical voice. But who are you? Lucy persisted, growing less timid meanwhile. I am Leonore, the Queen of the Fairies, came back the answer. Lift up the cover and let me out. I am in the inkwell. Lucy, filled with excitement, and trem- bling with joy at the thought of actually seeing a fairy, nervously clutched the inkwell and opened it. Out stepped a be- witching little creature, robed in shim- mering white, her'mass of golden hair wreathed with a dainty crown of gold. She bore a scepter in her hand. Gracefully she dropped a low curtsey to little Lucy, who sat with her hands tightly clasped before her, and her eyes beaming with excitement. Again the tinkling little voice was heard. Laughing softly, she said, Come, now, Lucy, is this the kind of reception you are going to give me? There. that is better. Now. since you have all your lessons done and your theme written, let us have a pleas- ant little chat. And Leonore seated her- self comfortably on the desk before Lucy. At the mention of the theme Lucy start- ed up with a frightened look, as though recalled to life. But, oh-I had almost forgotten that I have a long theme to write for the 'Kipikawif Oh, dear-oh, dear-what shall I do? cried Lucy. You don't mean to say, Lucy, that you haVen't finished your theme! said the Queen, surprised. Why, when I saw you lounging so lazily in your seat I thought surely that you had linished your work. ' ' Well - but-I-I-was -just - think- ing what to write about-I don 't see why the teachers make us write for that old 'Kipikawi,' anyway. It is all bosh and nonsense. So therell' she said petulantly. The Queen of the Fairies seemed more than surprised at this sudden outbreak of temper, and said, '4Why, Lucy, my dear child, I never thought that I should hear such a remark from you. You, who al- ways seemed so ambitious and conscien- tious, talking in such a silly way. What is the matter, child? Matter enough! Lucy answered. Here it is, such a beautiful, warm day, and I have to stay in this miserable school- room and write a theme. I just despise school- I do, and I wish that I was out to Grandma 's this very minute, oh, I do- I do ' The queen's surprise turned to anger upon seeing Lucy in this mood. She said: Well, my dear, I see that you are in no mood for a chat today, and besides that theme must be written before the period is over. It must!-it must!!-it must! ! ! With this she stamped her tiny foot on the desk and dropped her scepter with- a decided force. When Lucy recovered from her sur- prise and fear she turned to speak to Leo- nore again. Well- But where was the queen and where was the tiny scepter? They had disappeared, and Lucy rubbed her eyes sleepily as she looked about her. What was her surprise to see, bending over her, her teacher, with an amused smile on her face. Why, Lucy, the teacher exclaimed, you surely werenyt sleeping? f'Oh, no,,' answered Lucy, but that fairy Was awfully angry. Well, laughed the teacher, you have been in Fairyland, then, and passed on. Lucy looked at the clock-only fifteen minutes to get that theme! Oh, I know what I shall write about! I do! I do! I'll write about Leonore. And she did. 'K' IK 111 SF W if W The teacher read Lucyis theme that day with a pleased look on her face. That little girl, really, has a great imagination. ' ' -Ella Evans, '13. Speedy Cphoning from farmhouse to garagejz I guess you will have to come and get me. I've turned turtle. -Exchange, Judge

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K, g gi ' A D -M M - .if I 5, yegfzm-4. M gg 'i i fl 'f't't5PW?'e r551-wiv' , ,-9.5 I-J. 'ggi the desk when students whispered. They simply smiled encouragingly. No clanging bells announced the end of the period. Instead, a flunky, clad in lux- urious livery, entered the Assembly Room and Went to each individual and asked those who had recitations the following period to adjourn to their classrooms. Whlen a student was tired, he had only to go to the Rest Room, where he could recline in a hugh easy chair for a period. There were no hated school books, no dates, no diflicult rules to learn. In class the boys discussed football, baseball or racing, the girls talked over the latest events of society, While the kind-faced in- structor passed silently from one to an- other, and if a student talked especially well, he received an encouraging pat on the shoulder. At the termination of the period, the pu- pils did noti have to climb long flights of stairs. Elevators stopped at each door, and in this way the students were con- veyed from one recitation room to an- other. The students in one recitation were just enjoying a talk about the Country Club dance when the flunky announced that the period was over. I awoke with a start, and looked up. Oh, cruel fate! It wasn't a richly-clad flunky who was speaking, it was Mr. Brooks, who called a cheery Good- night to me over the railing. Ah, yes! the high school in reality and the high school of my dream are two dif- ferent institutions. I had no elevator to take me to the hall, so that I might get my wraps, but had to walk up the long flights of stairs, tired as I was. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that perhaps when women had the ballot, conditions in the local high school would be like those of the high school of my dreams. -Hazel Buck, 'l3. Teacher Cinterested in birdsj-i'Did you ever see a night-hawk? Soph.- I'have seen a lot of night- hawks coming home on the owl. 1 THE? SMOKEIVS RECPETNTANCE CWith apologies to Shakespearej Oh! my offense is rank, it smells to the ofliceg It hath the Principal 's curse upon it. One solitary pill! Refuse if-I can 't-- Though inclination be as sharp as will, My strong desire defeats my good intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause before I take a pill- Then smoke another. VVhat if these lips Were thicker than themselves with cigar smoke? Is there not rain enough in old Lake Michigan ' To wash them white as snow? Whereto serves water But to remove the traces of offense? Then I'll wash up, my fault is past. -Guilbert Barr, '12, LUCY'S THEME The day was hot and sultry. Every- body in the Assembly Room was heated and uncomfortable. They squirmed and twitched, and twitched and squirmed, really adding to their misery, although they were unaware of it. At length a cool breeze from the lake wafted in through the window. Slightly relieved, Lucy, an important little Freshman, set- tled down in her seat, with an exhausted air. Oh, how I wish it were a month from now, she said to herself, longingly. There would be: No more lessons, no more books, No more teacher's saucy looks. And, continuing rather dreamily, I sup- pose a month from now I shaall be out at Grandma 's farm-maybe, in the hammock under the trees, or drinking soda Water, or eating candy-um-um ! She spent the next few silent moments in pleasant an- ticipation of the long summer vacation before her. She was awakened from this reverie by a silvery little laugh close to her elbow. She started nervously. . Ohl what was that? she asked, look- ing around her.

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. .Lia J'i2' t'Gf,Qe' ..,'-. f- ti. ,. - 11 ei.. 1 ,:.q.g,:. .1wag3yggqggqg,,,,- 1,r,.,,g,1,-.idgm-,:..,:.,mag-- ,.g1ep. ek ' ras-ir - A must' - -:g:2n ..1 ...,..,Z.., ......':. .., -,.,.,. -..wx ia..:,,'J7q,I, '.52,,, Q 1 J....,5..rf. .r . -A ., ,, ,. ff '57 ' '..i. ' 21.2 2-J-l '..f 3 4511 Si 'E if ' ' dwg . . .5 6, ik 'fYQe1.'-- ff Q 13 1,3 3 ,V 'et ff. V 3,,. ,!gf PIE!R0'S PUNISHMENT It was a beautiful morning in a certain district of southern Ita.ly many, many years ago, and after Piero's father and mother had kissed him and departed for the dayls work in the vineyards, Piero felt a great desire to leave the hut and wander in a certain direction where he was forbidden to go. He was fall alone this morning, for Lorenzo and he had quar- reled the day before. At his right lay Lo- renzo's home, and Lorenzo was all alone, too, because his father and mother worked in the vineyard, and at his left lay the forbidden fields. Father Niccoli had said: t'The taran- tula lives in those fields-the tarantula is a big spider-and it will bite you, and then you will feel all queer inside and forget how to see and hear, and they will get music and you will begin to dance, and dance, harder and faster, and harder and faster, until you fall down all tired out, and you will wake up cured. That was why Piero was not allowed to go into those fields. But when one could just see the trees where a little brook was bubbling, so cool and clear, over there- why, it was very hard to stay at home. So he started toward it slowly, because the sun was very warm-and there was another reason. At every step something seemed 'to say, Piero, you are a naughty boy, a naughty boy, a naugh- ty boy. But soon the voice ceased and he walked along, singing happily to himself. A big butteriiy flew by, and on and on he ran after it. The sun grew mercilessly hot. 'He gave up the chase and sat down on a mound to get his breath. Then he felt some- thing queer on his bare foot. It was a big brown spider with a black spot on its back. He screamed and shook it oi, but it was too late. He began to feel sick and languid, and sank wearily on the turf. Then a strange mist came before his eyes, and a ringing in his ears. Oh, why did I come? he groaned, and knew no more. 'But Lorenzo had watched Piero start across the fields and had seen with horror 5- W that he was barefooted. He quickly slipped on his high boots and followed. He ran when Piero chased the butterfly, he saw him stop, he called to him in vain, he heard him scream. He knew what the scream meant. Piero was unconscious When Lorenzo reached his side. He could not leave the boy while he went to get the musicians, for other tarantulas would come. The two were about of equal size, but Lorenzo half carried, half dragged Piero on and on, it seemed for miles, to the door of his home. Then Lorenzo had to get the musicians, for they alone could wake him out of his trance. The nearest village was two miles distant, but he bravely started out. Oh, how hot the sun was! It made his head swim and his steps lag. The dry, hot earth burnt his feet even through his boots. He stopped at a little spring to quench his thirst, and started off for the second mile on the run. He stopped at the first cottage and asked if there were any musicians in the village. Musicians, child! No, no. But there are some a few miles north of here, the housekeeper answered. A few miles north of here! The words echoed harshly on his ear. Has anyone here a donkey? It was the only resource. All the donkeys are in use, child. No, let me see, I think we have one you might take. But you might be a thief, and never bring it back. 'tTrust me, please, oh, please! cried Lorenzo. See, I will give you my boots and this gold bracelet if only you will trust me. So the bargain was made, and Lorenzo, seated on a donkey's back, started for the next village. The distance was cov- ered in a short time, and when Lorenzo asked again for the musicians he found them, and the party set out for the little hut where Piero lay. ' When the musicians reached Piero they struck up a lively tune. The boy awoke, he began moving, he started to dance. The music grew wilder and faster, and