Rawlins High School - Roundup Yearbook (Rawlins, WY)

Page 28 text:

A Dream The moon hung low in the velvety sky. Quickly I entered the High School building. The hall was brilliantly lighted, and various strange sounds filled the air. Softly I opened the door of the commercial room, and lo: the sight that greeted my eyes! Miss Hoag had harnessed together two typewriters and was driving them over the floor, meanwhile talking rapidly to herself in shorthand. A ledger, which was following could not keep up the pace, lost its balance, and fell, moaning dismally. Miss Gibney had locked herself into the Latin room, and was reciting Latin verses backwards. The shades of Cicero, thundering mighty invectives, were trying to enter. I went on down to the Library. An immense pile of lost articles, composed chiefly of books, permits and excuses, were heaped up in the middle of the room, and rummaging frenziedly in this, her eyes glittering, was Miss Toole. Occasionally she would pause, and consider intently some article she had apparently recovered, only to resume her hunt more fever ishly than before. Softly I climbed the stairs, and peeped into the domestic science department. I found Miss Frandsen imprisoned in the oven of the cook stove. Dishes scattered over the floor were singing in high, “cracked” voices to the dressmaking patterns. In the English room I found Miss Phelan declaiming rapidly and without pause, bits of classics with occasional paragraphs from “David Copper-field”. A pile of theme papers on the desk were whispering and giggling among themselves. I peeped into the mathematics room. A circle had itself firmly bound around Miss Sherman’s ankles, another around her arms; an acute angle was dancing a jig on her head, and squares, parallelograms and triangles were merrily chasing algebraic equations over the desk and seats. I opened the door of the music room and behold, there on her knees, was Miss Noonan. A half note was belaboring her lustily over the head with a piece of a staff, the notes from which had fallen on the floor and were dancing and capering around in impish delight. The history room came next. There the ghosts of innumerable histori cal personages had gathered before Mr. Olne.v, who stricken quite dumb and white was shaking from head to foot, while they were pointing their ghastly fingers at him in mocking derision. Apart from these in a group and conversing earnestly together, were Caesar. Alexander, and Napoleon, laying plans for the conquest of the spirit world. Down the stairs and into the lower hall, I hurried. The gymnasium was wide open. The basketballs had taken on hideous faces of witches and were running away with the baseballs, while Mr. Fletcher and the bats were chasing them to a merry tune set up by the locker keys. In the science room, Mr. Robuck, kicking impotently was suspended in mid-air with the law of gravity clutched firmly in one hand. Unholy sounds as of mirth and laughter, came from the laboratory behind. A terrible, bloodcurdling cry took me to the manual training room. There was Mr. Axtens firmly implanted in a vise and horrors of horrors! A try square was planing his hair off, assisted by several chisels and a hatchet. I awoke screaming. PANSY ALLEN.

Page 30 text:

THE ROUND-UP OPAL ALLEN “The mildest of manner and the bravest of mind.” BILLIE CLIFFORD “And even though vanquished he would argue still.” FRITZ ANDERSON “He is never too busy to talk to the ladies.”