Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

Page 8 text:

6 THE PORCUPINE them are kind of “sissified,” don’t you think so? But some aren’t, you bet. They’re jolly as boys and are the “real stuff.” I made up my mind that this one was a “reg- ular brick.” But to my dismay, there just a few seats away was one of those old “‘smarties” from grammar school whom I just hated. He was a regular bully and was always sticking his nose into iny business. I never could bear him, be- cause he was a short, fat, fellow, was never neat about his clothes and his hair always stood up in all directions at once, as though it was trying to fill up the extra amount of space in his hat, which was about a size and a half too big. You may think I’m a kind of a “sissy,” but I’m not. I know how to make the girls admire me, you’d better be- lieve. This old enemy of mine looked at me as if to say, “We'll have a scrap at recess, old man, and I'll show you who’s who.” Well, we didn’t have any real lessons the first day, so the second morning I went to my classes with a brave face, fully prepared to distinguish myself. Our history teacher was such a dear little lady in a blue dress. After giving a number of questions, she suddenly said, looking straight at me, “Mr. Jenkins, who was the Black Prince?” I felt important all of a sudden. She had actually called me Mr. Jenkins. She had called on different ones in the class before, and some of them had gotten up and spun off long yarns, most of which were only biuff. I said to myself, “I will just shine. now; I’m not going to bluff.” I stood up and—well, you must be a little lenient, be- cause the class was large and as I had a seat near the back they could all look around and see who the Mr. Jen- kins was. My! but I do despise that name to this day. Well, as I said before, I stood up; my knees began to shake; I got red, white, and I know, blue. However, I pulled myself together, for you do feel kind of queer when you first get up before a lot of

Page 7 text:

THE PORCUPINE 5 shortcomings.” Then the father spoke: “I am glad for you, Allie. You deserve it all. You’ve been the sunshine o our home, and, I repeat it, you deserve it all.” ARs Up Against It One of the most important days of my life was the day I entered what my elders called “that famous institution of learning, the Santa Rosa High School.” I was a rather prepossessing lad of fourteen years. I had always been on good terms with everyone around me and on excellent terms with myself. That is, I had always been a favorite among my classmates at the grammar school, being their leader in every prank, and so I expected to be quite an important chap at the High School. My mother told me that morning to behave myself and not disgrace the family, for she always spoke to me as if I were a “kid” tied to her apron strings, instead of a boy who was able to take care of himself. I answered, “Oh, bosh,” and, whistling my shrillest set out for the school. When I arrived there I found many others in the same position that I was, but there were a great many more who were “old in the service,” and took pains to let me know it by the murmurs that I heard passing around the room. “There goes a Freshie,” and “My, but he looks ereen,” and “I’m mighty glad I’m not just starting in.” Do you think I minded being called a Freshie? Not me! I just straightened and said to myself, “ Now, John, don’t you let yourself be made a fool of. You just show them what a I'reshie is made of.” Well, when the school took up, the first person I not- iced was the prettiest girl sitting across the aisle from me. Whew! I was in a better humour already. She looked at me and smiled as though she wanted to be friends. You know I always did like girls, but most of

Page 9 text:

THE PORCUPINE 7 “kids” you never saw before. I kept getting redder all the time, just like a girl when she blushes; but I said as calmly as I could and in an import- ant way, I thought, “Why, he was the king’s son.” The whole class began to laugh, but for the life of me I couldn’t see why. They would be laughing yet, I guess, if the teachers hadn’t looked daggers at them, but not be- fore she had had a good laugh herself. I was so mad I could have licked every last one of those boys. The teach- er said, “ we all knew that he was a king’s son, Mr. Jen- kins.” You can imagine how insignificant I felt when she said that. I thought I had made quite an impression, but it seemed I hadn’t. I thought that little incident would pass over, but not much. The next day as I was going through the hall some of the “big-bug” girls—seniors, I think they call them—remarked, “Oh, there goes Johnnie, the poor little boy whose first attempt at recitation was a failure. Isn’t he cute?” I said to myself, “John, can you stand any more of this?” I had come to the conclusion that to be at home, even if it was by my mother’s side, would be better than to stand any more such torment. I did not answer my- self until the end of the month. Then, I said, “John, you’ve just got to grin and bear it.” For there in the High School paper they had written it all out and told a lot of stuff about the poor little freshies who mustn’t get discouraged. I know they meant only me. I would have quit there and then if my mother hadn’t urged me to stay and do my best and not be a disgrace to the family. % Well, I’in still at S. R. H. 8S. and you couldn’t hire me to quit now, as I learned a lesson which has been an advan- tage to me all through the months that have followed. The moral of my little tale is: Don’t think yourself so important that you can distinguish yourself, for you will find yourself “up gainst it,” and your pride will take a fall as mine did. A. 706.