Salina High School - Trail Yearbook (Salina, KS)

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“WE WON’T GO THERE ANYMORE!” ■ HE Senior hates sentimentality; that’s the reason why he 4 despises last looks, last words, last farewells, last kisses an d the like. Unfortunately he is a senior: he must take the farewell of high school. The other evening about five thirty he strolled in at the west door fora more or less valuable notebook. He entered the big quiet building with a smile in his eye and a whistle on his lips. Straight as an arrow he slide down the slick floor to his locker. Or. the way, he glimpsed into a few of the boy s lockers There was Woods, and not a thing in it but an old physics book, pretty much the worse for the wear. Several old copies of The Outlook” with Kirtland’s name more or less eligibly written on them, had fallen to the floor. His own notebook was not in the locker well maybe it was up in room 10 on The Habit table. It was at least worth looking for. Up the west stairs two steps at a time to the main floor. No- body in sight! Mr. Brooks’ office door was even closed no familiar bald and red head grinning at him from within. Kinda got on his nerves! In the domestic science room, he heard Mr. Reaser whistling away at “We’re Marching to Zion”. Jim Reaser might march to Zion if he wanted to but the Senior preferred to stay right there in that old D.S. room. He’d certainly had good times there. As he passed the chapel, he decided he wasn’t in such a hurry. In he stepped; up to his own seat he walked. Hm! he’d had his share of fun here. “What’s the matter with the team!” It certainly was fun to come to high school. But then of course one wouldn’t really want to come more than four years. If you had to leave, well you had leave; that was all. He left the chapel slowly! Slowly he walked up the steps. It certainly wasn’t his custom to walk slowly up stairs. He noticed the marks of footsteps on the stairs. He’d done his share of wear- ing them away. For four years, his freshmen crudities in the matt- er of stomping upstairs had been dwindling. He took a glance in at Miss Fones room, - clean as a new pin. That teacher certainly kept the cleanest desk in school and she was some patriot too, made Thirty-one

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Jean was sitting in her room thinking over the events of the day. she was called to the phone. When she answered the call, a boy’s voice asked, Say aren’t yon the girl that won the championship this afternoon? Well , I want you to be my guest at the Phi Gam party next week. You will, won’t you? Jean almost too surprised to speak, uttered a faint, Yes.” — Thelma Short JWp Wiit y neighbor’s wife is a suffragette of the Pankhurst tj pe m ■ Band an abominable disposition. It is a common occurrence. when her temper is raging somewhere in the neighbor- hood of 90 degrees centigrade for her to run her husband out of the house, and down the street as long as her strength will permit. She is about five normal feet high and equally broad. Her eyes slant in an easterly direction while her nose is in marked contrast with her other regular features. Upon entering the house the first sight that meets one’s eye is a tangled mass on the floor assuming the shape of two human forms, male and female. It is none other than my neighbor and his wife in physical competition for equal rights. The wife is on top welding a rolling pin like a butcher cutting elephant steak, while the husband is breathing slightly, already weak from the loss of blood. On the wall is a sign which reads, Peace on Earth, Good Will toward Men and Votes for Women”. — Vernon Brown Thirty

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Impulsively, be stepped over to Miss Miles’ room. Not a very clean desk but some Latin, believe me some Latin, and some teacher. You couldn’t put anything over on her. ” Just a glance at Room 14, ’Merciful Fathers! Miss Llmore! Visions of geometry floated into his brain, “just at this spot, I vowed I ' d never take another day of geometry. Hm! I did though trust Miss Klmore for that. Well she was just right anyhow ' Probably Uncle Dutch was puttering away down in the physics iab. Xo! Only a stack of notebooks. His own was probably there. On the whole, it would be just as well to step on. “Here’s where I learned to be a good public speaker”, he ruminated as he passed room 17. I’ve got to get that notebook”; on into room 10 where the violet leaves were still green and The Hdbit desk filled as high as usual with exchanges, he passed. Here he d learned that Milton wrote the Intimations of Immortality. He was glad he had, on the whole; a fellow realy ought to know a little bit about the classics. There was the notebook! He’d go on home now. Might as well get this commencement farewell over. As he passed down the hall, his eye was attracted by a mirror. “Neva Anderson ' s! She ' s forgotten it! Oh well, she has others at home.’ ' Quietly , he left the building without any smile in his eye or any whistle on his lips. Down the street, he heard someone sing- ing, “ We won ' t go there anymore, We won’t go there anymore.” “I guess you’re about right, he concluded; “ because we ' re seniors and won’t go there anymore.” Thirty-two