Sharon High School - Marsengold Yearbook (Sharon, MA)

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Sharon High School The last important events of our Sophomore year were our vocal contributions at the high school concert and at graduation. By the time we reached our Junior year, our number had been diminished noticeably, but what we lacked in quantity we made up in quality. The year marked the beginning of our real social activities. Being promoted from the class where we knew it all, the Sophomore class, we proceeded to unlearn, and consequently our presence was easier to bear. The hardest work we did that year, outside of preparing for the Prom, was to scrape together enough pennies to get our class rings. In truth, I think some members actually engaged in real physical labor to lift the mortgage the rings put on their property. Others transferred the mortgage to their brains and allowed it to foreclose. The mortgagee got the worst of the bargain at that. Can you imagine Donald Stockman with dirty hands and disheveled hair? Neither can I. Yet Don actually went without a new hat and raked leaves to get his money. Nancy Wood conducted a spelling class for freshmen. Jean Caldwell pawned the jazz bells she entertained us with in English class once. hvian Leighton got her money by tutoring a couple of teachers who were behind in assignments. Venita Baker earned hers by requiring a penny for every minute she held her tongue (it took her three weeks at that). George Watten- dorf gave a few lectures on elocution, and Kenneth Brown let the car alone for two whole weeks, just to have enough money from his allowance. The others worked just as hard, but used more method than madness. We always emphasized equality not quantity and we showed it very well at our Prom. We did not allow enough tickets to be sold to over-crowd our spa- cious ballroom, but gave the limited number present a most unusual time. Our decorations could not be rivalled by any class. Our orchestra was incomparable, and the guests mixed well, insuring a good time for all. We spent the rest of the year listening to the Seniors tell us to follow their shining example of good behavior. We never could quite see the illumination and determined to be models ourselves. I will never forget how saintly and quiet Venita Baker was. But George Wattendorf spoiled the class by his constant talking and loud laughing, you know how noisy he is anyway. When the end of the term came, we sighed with relief, not because we were through for the year, but because the Seniors were— for good. This year, our Senior year, we entered our lofty seat, with equally lofty ideas. We were modern, or tried to be, and when a Shakesperean play was suggested we downed it and chose one that had more to do with prohibition. The name was No Trespassing.’’ We did not burn the mid-night oil very much at re- hearsals, but wasted a good deal of eleven o’clock gas (hot air) on various parts. The refreshments at these rehearsals were abundant and varied. Cake was com- mon, although Mr. Stockman can testify that a cake shower in the literal sense of the word, is nor exactly appreciable, nor that cleaning up the affected area is either. We all enjoyed the drinks. Our hero was again the victim of excess when one night he came limping home with a sprained ankle, caused by a fall when he went for the drinks too eagerly. 1 do not have to mention the success Page twenty-five

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The Caerulean Class History I N September, 19x2., the class of twenty-six entered the spacious halls of the Sharon High School. Timid and green we were perhaps, but we knew our place, and stayed in it, always striving and groping for some new seed of knowledge (book knowledge of course). We spent our first year studying industriously, as every freshman class does (after that year they know better, having learned all the rules of the game of bluffing). Two weeks after our first appearance, we organized the women’s partv, beat- ing the men’s at the polls, for women were selected as president, as secretary and as treasurer. The class was thus ably managed. The crowning incident of that year was our sleigh ride. We finallv reached Norwood, our goal, amidst showers of snowballs. The first drug store that we saw we entered and proceeded to warm ourselves by eating ice cream. Mr. McGrath and Miss Curley were our chaperons. Oh, don’t be alarmed, Mr. McGrath was a gay young bachelor in those days. To cap the climax of our freshman year, we held a picnic at the lake. Ask about the food! Our Sophomore year was one shining success after another, beginning with our famous presentation of “The Courtship of Miles Standish,’’ in which we first displayed our remarkable talent as actors and actresses and ending with our unequalled co-operation in the song at graduation. It was in our Sophomore year that we realized our importance, as all Sopho- mores do, and what an asset we were to the school. Our members then began to branch out in almost every field open to us. “Babe,” “Awny,” “Rob,” and “Sully” practically made up the boys’ basket-ball team, while Katherine Shel- don and “Deta” were all star players on the girls’ team. “Deta” has always been good in all forms of athletics, especially when it comes to calisthenics of the tongue. Another field was the honor roll which was attained by several members of our class. That was the year Vivian succeeded in vamping A’s out of all the teachers. (Now, we understand she is specializing in child culture.) During the last half of our Sophomore year, our members were inspired to enter the field of poetry, and fine poets we were indeed! One seventh period Miss Curley called for a heroic poem that was being passed around for inspec- tion and criticisms. But, alas, she had no appreciation of true art, for she de- stroyed the paper at once, saying “Report after school at two-ten for disturb- ing the main room.” The girls in the commercial department boasted of being able to typewrite to the time of a phonograph which had recently been installed in Room C, but they had nothing on us. By the end of June we were making perfect circles and squares at the rate of fifty a minute to the tune of ’’Yankee Doodle.” Page twenty-four

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The Caerulean of the play for you have all seen it or heard of it already. I need only say that we had all worked hard to prepare it and a day after it was given we were offered a contract to present it in the biggest theatre in Boston every night for the rest of the season. Of course we did not accept; we could not bear to leave our beloved High School even for so great an offer. After the play we turijed our thoughts more and more toward the future. We became serious. We resumed the role of student abandoned since our Fresh- man year. As we approached this eventful day, we have thought solely of leaving. Tonight we go. Tomorrow night we shall be all together for the last time. Now we realize our good times are gone, that High School offers more than drudgery to the student. Now we realize that we are facing a far more difficult task than getting passing marks in our classes. We are about to enter schools of higher learning, or, more important yet, the School of Hard-Knocks. Page twenty-six