Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 14 text:

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Page 13 text:

On Shields High School N THE magic glass of memory, With its visions of the years, Looking close we see the pictures Of our early joys and tears. As your wondrous doors were opened To our toddling baby feet, With what heart-throbs then we entered All your mysteries to greet. And as time passed on we lingered, Growing stronger day by day; For you led us ever onward, In your wise but gentle way. Here, the questioning mind of childhood Found the answer which it sought; Here, with throes of youthful anguish, Life’s experience was bought. For the fields of broader vision, For the insight into life, For the power to win life’s battles Mid its conflict and its strife, For these gifts of priceless value, Guardian of our youthful days, We to thee our tribute offer, As we go our different ways.

Page 15 text:

Shields High Srhonl WAS erected in 1871. Brick by brick, my walls rose, until at last my lofty head proudly lifted itself skyward. About me were planted thrifty young trees, and in the midst of my beautiful surroundings I stood, proudly conscious of my great and important calling. My walls soon rang with the voices of children, and from my halls were turned out graduates, who are an honor to my institution. Judges, an attorney-general, speakers, congressmen and legislators were once the mischievous little boys who played under my trees and skipped through my halls. Years passed on. Seymour grew from a thrifty little village to a growing and prosperous little town. The school population increased rapidly and the citizens began to cry: ‘““More room; build a south wing!’’ and lo! it was accomplished. Commence- ments were then held in my assembly room, but this soon became too small, and the different churches were used to accommodate the crowds, that flocked to these great annual affairs. As the decades passed one after another over my head, and the little trees, upon which once long ago I had looked down, now spread their branches and lifted their heads far beyond me, I began to feel the infirmities of old age. They braced me up as best they could; erected fire-es- capes; but no use; my floors were warped, my doors creaked, my stairways were worn and unsafe, my walls moldy, my whole frame trembled with every swaying breeze. And once again the cry came from the city: ““Too small; too far behind the times. Our children should have and do deserve a better school home.’’ So the edict went forth, and then the havoc commenced. I was treated more cruelly than ever I dreamed human beings could treat me. ‘They knocked and they banged; and finally (it is too painful to relate) I remained only a pile of white, mortar-bestrewn bricks. “Alas!” thought I, “‘my day is over.” There I remained in stacks for several weeks. One day, as I was patiently awaiting my fate, I overheard the contractor remark to a member of the School Board: “Sure, we can use