Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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THE Page Seven conclusion however, you have failed to estimate the frail little teacher, Aunt Mary, at her full value. In her mild, modest way she reigned supreme. By her culture and refinement, her example and her precepts she gave many a boy and girl the basic elements of character and the inspiration which brought to them success and nonor in after years. But of that little school room in a poor “back-woods” settlement, largely as a direct result of Aunt Mary’s influence, has come more than a score of college graduates. Among them are lawyers, judges, physicians, ministers, educators and bus- iness men who have a.ained high places. Who can fully estimate the influence for good of one noble character even under every un- favorable opportunities. While this is the brief story of one little school and one little woman teacher of forty years ago, it is by no means an exceptional story. The man of the world today, those at the head of large bus- iness enterprises, those eminent in professional life, inventors, statesmen, in fact the men who largely direct and control the af- fairs of the world at this time, can each tell you of some obscure little teacher of forty years ago whose influence is largely respon- sible for their success in life. Fortunate indeed is the boy or girl of today who comes under the influence of such a teacher as Aunt Mary. FERN RITTER, ’10 -FROM A DIARY “Oh, dear, what shall I do this rainy afternoon. Oh, yes! I'll run up to the attic and get those quilt pieces that I promised aunt ‘about a week ago. “Why! what on earth is this? Well, if it isn’t my old school diary from the year 1910 when I was a Soph, and here are all the names of my schoolmates. I just must stop and see if I can remem- ber them. First, there’s Joe McDonald. Oh, yes, I remember Joe. I read in the morning paper that he is a famous doctor in New York. And here’s his chum George Laupus—little George has now become a great inventor and married a society belle. Ah, here is a name that I will never forget, Hattie R., how we teased her, but that is past and to think that she married Leland Hadley, a travel- ing salesman. Well who is this?—ah! now I remember, it was Rea Gilbert, who joined the navy before finishing school; and then there is Hazel Henderson, that popular little ‘Miss’ who is now one PATRIOT COMMENCEMENT NUMBER of the best stenographers in the city. Then there is the name of Lora Reynolds,—what was it she wanted to do, oh yes—go to Hurope and study music; but alas her wish was never fulfilled. Then there’s that dear little Linton B. who has won fame by his latest edition of “Brewer’s Unabridged Dictionary.” And here’s our: infant ‘Ray F.,’ who is now making a sensation as pitcher for the ‘National League Baseball Team.’ And here’s a name that is rever- enced by all, that of Ethel R., who is now a primary teacher in one of the city schools. Then here’s a name loved by the many poor in Hast New York, Clarence Craig, the generous millionaire, And here’s Jewel of our class, now a leader in the chorus of the ‘Gingerbread Man.’ Then ther’s the name of Russel P. and Ruth A. who shortly after their graduation went west. Then there was the ‘David and Jonathan’ of our class, Ruth B. and Ruth Lebline, who are now nurses in alarge hospital in Indianapolis; Bessie Bol- linger, now noted English teacher. “And here’s a name that used to cause a smile of amusement to flash over the faces of those who heard it, Roy Hughes, who is who are now nurses in a large hospital in Indianapolis; Bessie Bol- ‘Luella Louis,’ oh yes, she is now an able Latin teacher, I have forgotten just where, but I know it is in some large city. And the class sport, Francis Bunton, is.the proud possessor of a large farm, where he resides in peace and happiness with his wife, who was formerly Miss Elizabeth Hoffman, also a member of our class. And here is the name of another one of our number( Willard Everhart, who has become lost in the whirl of some large city, but who is probably making a large fortune in the way in which he should. Then here’s the name of one I saw only yesterday, Frances Switzer, now librarian at the Public Library. Next is the name of a famous lawyer, Carl Fox. ‘Nellie Fenton,’ she is the member of our class, that is now winning fame and money as a vocal soloist. And Hazel Heintz, I am sorry to say, is still enjoying the blessing of single maidenhood, in company with her cats and numerous pets. And Edna Schwab, much to our regret, has gone to some distant city, and we have lost all trace of her. I have also lost track of my schoolmate, Alice Stanfield. Alas! how many of our number have stolen beyond the reach of friendly eyes and ears. Roy Schafer is now owner of a department store in the enter- prising and flourishing city of Freetown. And our class seems to be a lover of lawyers, for here are two more renowned ones, John Pes

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THE COMMENCEMENT NUMBER “Then Imogene, would you be brave enough to leave your un- cle’s roof and help share my life of good or evil?” “Hvil it could never be for you are good. I am going to my. uncle and tell him to give his wealth to somebody else and let me go with you. And before he could restrain her, she sped away to the castle. She ran eagerly into the library and breathlessly re- nounced all desire of the heritage it her uncle would release her from the proposed marriage and give her to the young artist. “An artist,” sneered the old man, “artists are always poor and worthless. No, if you are not careful, you will be locked in your room and have only bread and water to eat.” Imogene knew that to argue farther was useless, so she turned and walked away slowly back to the brookside. ‘He will not con- sent, he says all artists are poor and worthless. Money seems to be his all-in-all,’ and she sank down on the mossy bank. The artist put down his palette and brush and upon Imogene’s look of inquiry, answered, “IT am going back to the castle with you. When your uncle sees me he will not refuse to give you up.” Wonderingly the girl led the way up to the castle and into the library. The old man looked up astonished to see a young man of so distinguished a bearing with his niece. As he peered intently at him through the gloom, the artisc said, “Sir, do you not remember me?” The old man sprang up eagerly, ‘Malcolm is it really you? When did you arrive? How is the Earl, your father?” Malcolm, seeing Imogene’s astonishment replied, “Yes, 1 am Mal- colm Chesterfield, the son of Earl Chesterfield, your friend. I am going about the country, sketching and painting a little and have met your niece, Imogene. But sir,’ he began appealingly but with laughing eyes, “you used to like me very well at court and was my friend and defendant. Now you say all artists are poor and worth- less, that Imogene could never marry one with your consent.” ‘But Malcolm,” answered the old man, “I didn’t know the painter was you.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” turning reproachfully to the girl. “Blame me,” put in Malcolm, “she supposed that I was some poor vagrant,—but sir, for the sake of old times at the court and even if I am not the man you chose for your niece, won’t you accept me as a substitute?” PATRIOT | Pope sie “Yes, boy, yes.” “Tmogene, show him about the place, I must return to my books.” But he sat a long time, gazing with softened eyes after the forms of Imogene and Malcolm, strolling about the garden E. M. H., ’10. AUNT MARY The flickering flames sank lower and lower casting weird shad- ows over the dimly lit parlor of Judge Stanson. Soon the flames leaped up and fell upon Beverly seated on the floor at her father’s knee and gazing dreamily into the open fire. She was thinking about tomorrow—her graduating day. i “Father tell me something of your early- school days,” she said. Judge Stanson’s head rested on his bosom and he sat musing of his school days and his friends, many of whom had passed into the great beyond. The room was intensely quiet, only the ticking of the clock and the snapping fagots broke the silence. Presently, Beverly pressed her warm cheek more firmly against her father’s knee which seemed to bring his wandering thoughts back to her. Slowly the Judge began, ‘My first recollections of school days are of some forty years ago. I was then a boy of five on a farm, one mile from the little village school. The teacher whom we all knew, as aunt Mary, was a frail uttle woman and boarded at my father’s house. Behind her on our old family horse “Mollie” I rode to school each morning and home at night. Over hill and fields, fording a stream which at times was swollen to dangerous proportions through rain, snow and mud, we made our daily pil- grimages. There was one room in the school building and one teacher for some fifty or sixty pupils of a.l sizes, ages and grades. In iact there were no grades at that time. The relative standing of the pupils was measured by their ability to read, spell and manipulate fractions and percentage in arithmetic. The school furnishings were crude indeed. Wooden benches, a smoking old wood stove, a globe six inches in diamater, a few wall maps and charts and eight or ten feet of blackboard constituted the entire equipment. The school term was in the winter months and lasted sixty to eighty days. You would say that with such a school little could have been accomplished by the school of forty years ago. In arriving at such a

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THe COMMENCEMENT NUMBER Eckler and Duncan Reed. Our class also seems to be favored with mathematicians, for I understand that Walter Wonning is still win- ning his quarters for solving the problems of a household for two. Two of our boys have passed out of our hearing, but they are making a success in lie, and they are George and Marion Mc- Intyre. Irene Montgomery, Mayme Lebline, Leona Thompson, Alice Ruddick, and Martha Loertz( I have not heard from recently, but trust they are enjoying peace and happiness. And last but not least, Clarence Kasting and Mabel Barnes, who have at last decided that two can live on the same amount as one. Well I have spent more than an hour sitting here thinking of my happy school days, and I haven’t got my quilt pieces yet. i eos al Ded me sca MISS ABEL’S RECEPTION Now that spring is here and “that time” is drawing nigh, the popularity of after school parties and receptions seems to be ever upon the increase. Possibly the most popular of these social events, and the one to which invitations are most eagerly sought, are Miss Able’s after-school receptions and class parties. The writer will at- tempt to describe one of these events which he had the very good fortune to attend. The affair was announced by Miss Able at the close of the third hour in the morning session, to the ever hopeful Freshmen Latin class. The Latin “students” did not greet the announcement with any demonstration as might have been expected, but received the news with apparent indifference. Probably they had attended too many of these events to become unduly excited about them. When at last the leaden hours of the day had slowly dragged past, (apparently on crutches rather than feet) the momentous moment arrived and the Freshmen (and some others) trooped to a certain room in the building. Miss Able was there with her usual bright smile of welcome. The formalities usually observed at par- ties were dispensed with and the real pleasures of the afternoon began. First, a number of strange books containing stranger reading matter were produced. Then ensued a very bewildering guessing contest, which no doubt would have been very amazing to a P°A T RiPOrT Page Bight stranger, were he present. Luckily no stranger was there, so no explanations were necessary. Apparently Miss Able forgot the refreshments, but the guests freely forgave her as the cares incurred by entertaining so much, no doubt tend to make one very forgetiul. Then too, the guessing contest was so amusing and diverting that the absence of the re- freshments was not noticed at ail. In what seemed an astonishingly short time the growing gloom in the room warned us that the afternoon was drawing to a close. Miss Able very reluctantly let us go. All those present appreciated her hospitality to the fullest extent, and from the joyous air of the departing guests it was to be surmised that they had all enjoyed themselves very much indeed. VAUGHN JOHNSON, ’11. WHY THE FRESHMEN ARE GREEN We will now let our thoughts wander back to the warm days of September, when a group of merry students first entered the High School as Freshmen. Although we were not acquainted with the different rooms, rules and teachers, we were not slow in learning them. It is usually the custom of the higher students to “look down” upon the Fresh- men and sometimes call them “green.” This act sometimes dis- courages the Freshmen, but one day a good speaker came and spoke to the High School. One thing he said was, “The farmer usually has more pride in a green ear of corn than in a ripe one, for as long as it is green it can keep on growing, but when it gets ripe its growth stops.” Compare the ear of corn to the Freshman class. As long as we are “green” we have room to learn more and will, but if we were not “green” we would have no more room to learn. The Freshman always keeps “green” through his course in High School, even when he is a senior, for he yet has some things to learn and desires to go farther and get more knowledge. There- for, when you speak of a “green” class, remember that all the classes contain a certain amount of greenness, for they are “never too old to learn.” K. SHEPARD, 7138. Mr. E. says they are trying to improve the telephone so that you can see who is talking. Won’t that be nice? But we wonder why he cares.