Simmons College - Microcosm Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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1 -A: - -.', V- T' , ,C ' - ' -L ' r rs i51'2-iilkzfl 1 - ' 49348 1 I Mr. John A. Timm, Professor of Chemistry, ' l . A V. :Q 'Z ' and Director of the School of Science :I 1 'V You came to Simmons as a freshman already fascinated by the glimmer ol: test tubes or the smell of formaldehyde. Either you had been much impressed with some romantic story of Madame Curie when you were a child, or you gloried in the type of grueling work 'most girls wouldnt touch with a ten-foot pole. For your First year courses, you took Contemporary So- ciety, English, Cerman, and Biology or Chemistry or Physics or Math. Doctor Timm introduced you to Big Butch and Little Johnny, the only two people who ever got away with throwing snowballs in Inorganic Chem class. Or, in General Bio you were made a present of your very own frog-a smelly and rather stiff little creature whom you treated very formally at first, but whom, as the year wore on, you got to know inside and out-eliterally. VVhatever your pet course, you had a little chat with Doctor Timm at the end of the year, and the next fall you returned to Simmons to disappear forever into the labs of the School of Science. If you were a Chem or Bio major, you took Quantitative Analysis with Doctor Bliss . . . VVell, now, let me sec . . . acids and bases . . . indicators . . . ionization . . . electrolysis . . . oxidizing and reducing agents . . . Honor thy balance! Remember working out the dolomite experi- ment? When you were a junior, perhaps you took Organic Chem with Miss Cranara. Maybe you were there the day shc was accidentally sprayed with the hose on the water con- denser. And you worked with saturated and unsaturated cpd's. Then there was Chem 13-2-Mr. Neal's Qualitative Analysis class . . . now, let me think, an acid or a basic solution will precipitate what? . . . Is it silver or is it lead? . . . It was all pretty complicated, but you got through it finally. s Y ..fr ' How's your experiment coming along, Margie? -Mrs. Sargent in Chem Class The end of that course marked the beginning of some- thing else-your senior year. You were a Big VVheel in the eyes of the under-classmen . . . if they only knew! In Dr. Timm's Physical Chem class you learned about thermody- namics and one fell swoop . . . il: you were only Yahudy . . . Then there was Mrs. Sargents Organic Chem class. You studied qualitative organic chemistry in the lab. Of course, you remember this, she said in every lecture while it always went over your head. Then came graduation-then a job or perhaps graduate school or marriage. But even if you never became another Madame Curie, the four years in the labs were worth itl S . 19 Hurrah! I+ came out right this lime!

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The priniing machine: You put the blank piece of paper in here, so . . Publi ation You dreamt of a glamorous job on lllazlenzoiselle, Clzarm, or Vogue. Or maybe you wanted to become feature writer or foreign correspondent for the New York Times. Then again, maybe you were after television or radio work, pub- licity, advertising, personnel relations. You Found that you'd be trained for all of these in the School of Publication. Your Hrst real introduction to your chosen school was in Copy and Proof, with Mr. Bliss and Mr. Bosworth. Delete, carry over, close up, wrong font, transpose . . . these words became a part of your vocabulary. The Clzicngo Manual of Style became your Bible, English Usage your pocket dic- tionary. VVill you ever Forget that trip through Vermont with Mr. Bliss? You met Mr. Valz and more confusing terms in Graphic Arts, You learned how to make a picture bleed and when to reduce proportionately. You looked at types and type sizes, all the way from Great Primer to Hea-point eyestrain . And you saw picas in your sleep. Maybe you took Advanced Comp with Mr. Bosworth. If you hadnt 'planned your work, those 20,000 words became a nightmare by the time Christmas vacation rolled around. Or maybe you decided on Journalism with Mr. Fessenden, receiving and handing in assignments to the tune of acc-racy, acc-racy, acceracylu You took Business 35 not because you had to, but because you were strongly advised to . Two hours a day, live days a week, you concentrated on speed in typing and shorthand. You may never have reached 100 words a minute, but at least you could say yes when prospective employers asked, Do you know typing and shorthand? H 5 Me-- H Mr. Raymond F. Bosworth. Professor of English, and Director of ihe School of Publication r Senior year . . . more Graphic Arts. You pored over Pnlllislzers' llfeekly, and you sweated over the Valz project. Field study brought into focus all the work you'd been doing for the past four years, you began to realize the tremendous possibilities of this Held you were in. Because the School believes in a broad education for its girls, you had plenty of opportunity to take other courses . . . Nineteenth Century Lit, introduction to Music, Modern Art, Modern European History. Maybe you decided to com- bine your pub courses with those of Home Ec or the Boston Museum School for more specihc training. VVhatever you did, you were confident of getting the right education for the right job. Replacing 'the type: Baskerville goes here . . .

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x.. ci iijftiiz- XY' fi' ' S S 1 I a! fiff' ' ,-1 Social Science VVhen you first came to Simmons, the School you were to graduate from four years later wasn't even there. You took the course prescribed for all freshmen without knowing quite where it would take you or what you were going to -lo with it. At the end of the year you still weren't sure. liiy the following September you had Finally decided on Business, Publication, Nursing, or any other one of the six schools. You took the sophomore course in whatever school you had selected and you liked it, but something was missing. Maybe you were in the wrong school. You looked at what the catalog had to say about each of the other schools, and you had interviews with some of the directors. but still you weren't completely satisfied. So when you began hearing rumors of a new school to be started in the fallj you were interested at once. VVhen the new cata- log came out and the School of Social Science became a reality, you'went directly to hlr. kvelliling and, after talking with him, you made up your mind. This was for you. Thus it was that you entered the School of your choice in the Fall oF your junior year rather than your sophomore year. You had a little dilhculty adjusting your courses to 1 Mr. Weldon Welfling, Professor ot Economics, and Director ot the School ot Social Science those required by the new department, but oncc you cleared that hurdle, you settled down to work. You learned something else when you chose the School of Social Science: your life wasnt settled when you made that first choice, for the School offered tive distinct programs and you had to make a second choice of one of them. It was hard to decide among them: public administration, economic analysis, community work, psychological measurements, or pre-teaching. YVith the help of Mr. W'elHing. however, you were ready to begin in one of them. You plunged into such courses as: Business and Social Measurements, Principles of Personnel, and Office Manage- mentg or Xvorld Ee Development, Labor Problems, and Seminar of Social Economicsg or Government, Sociology, Social VVork, and Psychological Measurements. It was hard to believe, but you had spare hours for academic electives. too. Came the end of your tour years. You were prepared for almost anything-graduate school, or work in the field you had studied for. You were only the second class to graduate from the School ot Social Science. but you were all for itl Some of our instructors caught in an intormal moment: left to right: Mr. Hunter, Mr. Halko M Tolletson, Mr. Kahl, and Mr. Hawthorne How can you get a wrong answer when you use a machine like this?