Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

Page 8 text:

. . and the seasons they go round and round and the painted ponies go up and down — we ' re captured on the carousel of time. We can ' t return, we can only look behind from where we came, and go round and round and round in the Circle Game '

Page 10 text:

CLASS HISTORY The graduate settles back into his seat, the melody of the commencement march echoing in his mind. He gazes around and spies his little sister waving and stifles a laugh. ' FRESHMEN ' , HE SIGHS DISGUSTEDLY, ' COULD WE EVER HAVE BEEN LIKE THEM ' ? Faces of faculty and fellow students fade into a mist as memories of the first year in High School flood his already over-crowded mind. . . . The building looms before us, ominous and foreboding — a black, dark threat. Herded like lost sheep, we are ushered into the auditorium to hear lecture after lecture on the evils of High School life. Terrified yet excited, we enter our respective homerooms and are issued computerized schedules which, we note with satisfaction, are all screwed up. As wide-eyed Freshmen, we make futile attempts to locate our classes. We have permanently embedded memories of patronizing upperclassmen who purposely misdirect us, and we are left to wander corridor after corridor in a cloud of oblivion. Embarrassed and apologetic, we bump into lovers in the halls. DID MR. COLLINS JUST SAY SOMETHING ABOUT HOMECOMING? I SHOULD BE LISTENING TO THIS, BUT . . . We promise to ' Beat Them in the Long Run ' with our infamous tortoise and hare float, the first true Freshman class effort. The fabulous 50 ' s are revived with our next fund-raising project, the Sock Hop. Our sale of cookbooks proves to be more frustrating than treasury-enriching, but we are gaining experience, the hard way, in money-making. As confidence and assurance builds within us, we try our hand at skipping our first doss. Then we serve our first session. Caf B beckons appealingly to us, and a privileged few witness the phenomenon of ' streaking ' that causes turmoil and upheaval, in the upperclassmen ' s lair. THESE SPEECHES ARE TAKING TOO LONG. I LIKE TO GET THINGS OVER WITH QUICKLY . . . Sophomore year, the school committee is faced with the dilemma of double sessions, but we find it to be no problem at all, with dismissal at 1 2:20 P.M., making the class day short and sweet. We feel quite at home in the familiar school building Sophomore year, and our class functions together as a whole comfortably. We enjoy bringing in the bucks from our dances and car washes. A certain pride and self-esteem grows in us as we successfully try out for Varsity sports — no more Frosh teams for us. We disregard the tedious boredom of Sophomore courses because we are practically within reach of the highly-acclaimed ' electives. ' Closing out the year is our famous boat trip, bringing us together as Sophomores for the last time. THIS GUY IS ALMOST THROUGH TALKING. JUST A FEW MORE WORDS ABOUT CAREERS, AND . . . The fear of making decisions that affect our whole lives leaps up suddenly as we enter Junior year, and early one morning we trudge, bleary-eyed from the night before, into Caf B to take the PSAT ' s. With the knowledge that SAT ' s are harder, we sigh, smile and cry over our scores.