Schuylerville Central School - Schuyler Yearbook (Schuylerville, NY)

Page 28 text:

'putting |turpu5r 3utu %xft To the Senior Class of 1932, of which I am a member, T dedicate this article with the everlasting hope that we can be benefited by it. Putting purpose into life is one of the most serious problems faced by us seniors. Purpose is defined as an aim for one’s self, an inten- tion or plan. Substituting for “purpose” in our topic the definition of purpose, we find that it reads like this—“putting an aim, intention or plan into life.” Man can be divided into two classes, the “Climbers” and the “Drifters.” The Drifters are those who are content with what they possess. They take life as a matter of course or, as one lecturer has cleverly put it, the Drifters travel in the same old rut day after day. Drifters do not put purpose into their lives but take things as they happen to come along. They do not care to better themselves in any way and as a result they increase their faults and bad habits instead of decreasing them. They lack courage to try again when they fail once. The Drifter is led on by temptations, lie forgets his God, and soon finds himself friendless and hopelessly lost in despair. Are we inclined to be Drifters? Let us hope not, for Drifters surely do not have any purpose in life except to make it harder for the Climbers. The Climbers are those who put purpose into their lives and plan ahead. In the case of the senior, the Climber is the one who has planned his career. He knows what he is going to he after leaving school, what training or experience is needed, and where he is going to get the training and experience. He pitches right in and starts working. Climbers are always striving for something better; they correct their faults and bad habits; they are friendly, kind, and courteous. Can we seniors be called Climbers or are we Drifters? Abraham Lincoln was a very good example of a Climber. He made his purpose in life to free the Negro from slavery. Later he formed another purpose, to save the United States from falling into two separate countries. He worked toward these goals and succeeded in the end in spite of all difficulties. He planned ahead, he tried to better his character, he worked constructively, and he did not forget his God. I am sure, Seniors, that we want to be like Lincoln, so let us try to be Climbers. Let us put purpose into our lives if we have neg lected to do so. Remember, we are bound to be successful if we put purpose into life and live up to our purpose. R. WINSTON PRINDLE, ’32 Twenty-six

Page 27 text:

WlUiltS r love all kinds of woods—woods where there are (lowers and brooks, and woods where trees gossip, and sometimes whisper sweet torget-me-nots, and again sing of days that are gone while they nod wisely in the breeze. But I love especially the woods where paths run bumping along, jumping over each other in their haste to outrun me to some hidden paradise. There are thin little paths, decked with beautiful wild flowers, which run and jump in their glee to be more beautiful than the others. 1 enjoy their fragrance while I imagine that on some moonlight night the smallest and most beautiful of the flowers were the cups from which the fairies drank their nectar. But the paths I love best are those which run ahead of me and every now and then hide in some secret haunt of theirs, out of sight among the trees. 1 wonder where the path has gone, where it will come out, and what it is after. Per- haps it will lead to some hidden patch of ladyslippers or trailing arbutus, or it may be to a sweet fir grove. X matter how much I exclaim over the paths and the flowers which beckon me onward, no less do I love the free wind and all tin1 sweet scented stillness of the woods. 1 love the stumps which show that some good tree has given itself to humanity, leaving its ancestral haunts forever for the new and strange haunts of mankind. et when a babbling brook peeps out from among the flowers and sings a song of the sights it sees as it races merrily to the far away, then I leave all of these and follow my beckoning comrade to tin haunts which are never seen by men. Over waterfalls, through flowered valleys, up hills and over dales, I run, following my merry friend. BESSIE BOOTH, ’33 Omritru iHitnhs Each day I wander into the garden to meet my friends. They all seem quite excited with my arrival. The woodchuck has just finished a bunch of lettuce and one small carrot. He looks for a second and then lurches off to his underground castle to await my departure. The robin is very tame. He flies from place to place eating bugs and insects that are harmful, only once in a while taking a red berry for dessert. Mv most honest friend is Jericho, the snake, who never does any harm, hut kills and eats the big June bugs which destroy my cabbage. .Jericho will come to me when 1 whistle and crawl into my hands and sleep until I tell him that I must go. I have many more friends but these are the most interesting. 1 know that I miss a small quantity of vegetables but as 1 think it over, this thought comes into my mind, “Look wliat God gave me. Cannot I share with my animal friends?” WILLIAM LOOMIS, ’33 Twenty-five

Page 29 text:

Jfhst rltt High ;§rhxrxrl What picture those words bring to our minds! All around us we could see new faces, teachers, books, rooms—everything was new. The sound of bells ringing could be heard above the turmoil. Someone said, “Assembly in the auditorium;” at that time we were assigned to our home rooms, where program cards were given to us to be filled out. So that we might become familiar with the routine, we had five minute classes. In algebra class we sat and stared at our neighbors as the teacher used such terms as “2x-2y.” We thought they were teaching Greek here and we had gone to the wrong class. A traffic cop was needed in the hall to prevent accidents. People were being pushed, hit, and pulled at the same time. Of course there were arguments about seats in study-hall. If a freshie had a seat near the window and an upper-classman wanted it, all he said was “Sorry, but that’s my seat,” and the poor frosh would move on until he was left on the opposite side of the room. On the whole, it was a day of great adventure. We soon realized the truth of the words, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Would wo ever get used to it all? MARCELLA NACY, '33 ilrrmtt (Of (Ontiumfinu As I sit here gazing out into space, I see a picture, one that often comes to me when I think of future years of high school. It is the twenty-first of June, 1934; the day is warm and sunny, the sort of day one dreams of for graduation. The birds are singing merrily as if they too are happy. Tonight 1 shall be graduated from Schuvlerville High School with a record that is good and honors that are high. I shall leave t lie school, with its green lawn, beautiful shrubbery, and wonderful teachers, leave it forever. It seems but a year ago that I was razzed for being inexperienced in the ways of high school. Today I am looked up to by those of lower classes. As I look at the school I see it as I have never seen it before. It seems to say to me “You enter me tonight as a student and leave me as a graduate. Never forget the place where you received your first start in life. Visit me occasionally and recall past days of happiness and study.” Tonight 1 shall be graduated and next September 1 shall be in college. I shall never forget the school where I took part in the activities that brought me so much happiness. It seems an honor tc graduate from this school. This dream some day will be fulfilled for me. It seems hard to be- lieve, and it will be hard to leave the school, teachers and classmates. I wish the seniors of this year, “Farewell, and good luck in everything you undertake.” BARBARA POTTER, ’34 Twenty-seven