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Page 14 text:
“
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a freshman class. This class wasn't the best little freshman class there had been; it chewed gum, ran and made noise in the halls and otherwise plagued the teachers, but everyone hoped that it would grow up to be a fine senior group. Now in the class there were two people, a girl named Forty and a boy named Six. They, we think, were typical of that class. For instance, on the first day. Forty became hopelessly lost. There she was, caught in the rush between second and third period. She knew where she was supposed to go—Social Studies in 211—but with millions of people rushing past and all the noise and confusion, how could she possibly beat the bell? At 10:20 someone sneaked noisily into Miss Remsen's class very much noticed. It was only Forty, five minutes late. But Six found a little excitement, too. After we had been in school a while, a few playful upperclassmen went on a spree. Initiations! (That word strikes terror into the hearts of the neo- phytes.) Six was chosen to be the guinea pig in the experiment, What the Well Dressed Woman Should Base Her Wardrobe On? Result: Eyes bulging and gasping for breath. Six walked down the Freshman Halls in a beautiful pink girdle. Conclusion: No conclusion . . . just the question how in the world did he get into it, and how did he get out? Christmas vacation came and went with its usual last minute rush, chapel programs, presents, and over-stuffed tummies. When we came back, there was a big surprise waiting for us. Miss Baumgardt had broken her ankle skiing and was hobbling around on crutches, very much handicapped. Now, thought we, we can get away with murder. Experience is a great teacher. At any sign of noise, Miss Baumgardt would grip her trusty crutch, aim, and touche she'd have us right where she wanted us.
”
Page 15 text:
“
The big event of the year for us was the Freshman Party. It started off with a bang! The girls sat on one side of the gym, and the boys on the other. To cross the Noman's Land over to the other side was too much for even the bravest lad. But after much prodding by the chaperones, someone started musical chairs and the next thing we knew we were having a grand time. Everyone signed the Class of 46 emblem which has been kept for three years. We were even honored by having a few upper classmen try to crash the party. June exams, report cards and summer vacation came and went, but in September we appeared at school, All grow'd up. We knew our way around; we were worldly, sophisticated, non- chalant; we were Sophomores! Like many Sophomores before us we elected officers. Harold Hansen nominated for the second time won the presidency. Connie McKay served again as Secretary. Willie Grodski and Jimmy Hagen were Vice-president and Treasurer respectively. But let us get back to Forty and Six. Like other upperclassmen they looked down on the lowly frosh, never quite understanding how they could be so-o dumb. Six was in a complete fog in geometry. He couldn't see why a line couldn't do two things at once. As for Forty, she was secretly disappointed that she wasn't squeamish in biology. Not even one nice dramatic fainting spell. The Soph Hop arrived with one prize brainstorm that we mustn't fail to mention. We intended to shower everyone present with a rain of gayly colored confetti. This confetti was placed in a pail above the people's heads. At the scheduled moment the pail was tipped. The confetti poured down in one steady stream to the floor directly below. The effect wasn't quite as planned, but everyone agreed it was beautiful. Forty and a friend have just cause to remember the Soph Hop. They had been licking and sticking everything in sight until their tongues were heavily coated with the most horrible tasting stickum which they tasted weeks and weeks. Then came the time that Forty and Six had been waiting for. Take 7’ 2 points, a slip from the office, and a $3 deposit and what have you? You've guessed it—Junior rings. On the wings of our Junior rings we pass over the remaining interim between our younger days as frosh and the more glamorous junior year. But truthfully no one could say we were examples of perfect deportment. Forty would often go wolfing in the halls with the other girls. But not quiet, well-mannered little Six. He and the gang got into no mischief whatsoever. Of course, no one ever did find out how that bottle of ink managed to get up on the shade in Miss Doyle's homeroom. Funny how things like that just happen. (continued on page 20)
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