Siskiyou Union High School - White and Gold Yearbook (Weed, CA)

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A BEGINNING CSonnetJ SEcoND PRIZE Poxim I saw an autumn day. Sky, clouds, and hills were gray, And on the barren ground Dead leaves, like memories, lay. With sad unchanging sound, The rain fell all around, Like tears shed for the past Upon the leaf-strewn ground. The year, I thought, at last Must die. Life mourns the past. From the sky gray with pain A voice replied, At last? From these dead leaves, this rain, Spring will begin again. ' v XINK 1 Nl l,UNlli.'XRl1l 34 .Ilo11ulSfnnfi1 Iligli Srfm MAY The month is lazyg it is hot. I'd just as soon play hooky as not. The trees are out, the willows bloom. The hottest place is our schoolroom. I5aseball's on, but I ucanit take it. Yes! I know I'd never make it. Spring fever's got me and won't let go. Oh, how I wish we Could have some snow! Rox' SMITH '37 lfnrf ,YIUVX lligfr Srlmnl Ciwlvnil l.ilw'ur'vy Swliolz 1 l'.'xc,l I6

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unable to think of any one thing. He finally threw himself down into a chair and picked up a book which happened to be lying open. He read this poem: rf In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still, ln men whom men pronounce divine 1 End so much of sin and blot l hesitate to draw a line Between the two, where God had not.', It was the one which Lucy had told him many years ago. He got up again and began to walk back and forth. Soon he sat down and picked up the book and read the poem once again. He sat thinking of how the other horrible deed had stood between him and Lucy. He re-read the poem many times and kept repeating, She was rightf, Finally he rushed out of the house, leaped into his car, and drove quickly to the small mining town. The unruly crowd had gathered again and was waiting for its leader. He drove into the middle of the street and got out of his car. As he began to talk, the crowd became silent and thoughtful, and when he ended with Joaquin Miller's poem many of the milling crowd began to walk slowly away. That night as john drove home it seemed as if Lucy were beside him smiling softly and saying, Dear John, I knew you would understand. ELAINIQ EIIWALL '34 Wr'ezf High Srliool. THE DREAMER FIRST PRIZE POEM They brand me but an idle, careless dreamer, Who strives for things he never may attain, And yet, in only dreaming, I,ve discovered A pleasure those who scorn will never gain. For when the feet of those sad friends about me Are mired in earthly troubles, worldly schemes, My heart has flown toward far horizons I'm looking onward, following my dreams. WILI.A BIAKI2 ,FIS Yreka High Srlmol. GI'm'rul Lifl'I'lIl'j' Svrfion 1 PAGIQ 15

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SIXTEEN SECOND PRIZE STORY THERE WAS A HUSHED, breathless note of subdued expectancy along the sedate halls of Miss Hanley's private school for girls. On this day a new semester had begun, and with it had come a most overwhelming surprise: a new teacher was there. A new teacher had been engaged for English IV Instruction, and he was a man! No girl in the English IV class could remember ever having been taught by a man at Miss Hanley's. Once, in an old school annual, a group of students had come across a martyrcd, masculine visage and were informed by the faded printing beneath that the owner taught music and advanced art. But that must have been many years ago, when the mothers of the class of '34 had rustled through the musty classrooms at Miss I-Ianley's school for girls, in poke bonnets and trailing skirts. It was one of that maiden lady's, Miss I-Ianlcy's, numerous peculiarities that she seldom hired a man teacher, being under the firm conviction that no member of the opposite sex was capable of the tasks a teacher must perform. It has been whispered that the young Mr. Busby was Miss I-Ianley's favorite nephew, and that because of the fortunate fact that a former instructress had resigned, she had given him the position temporarily. Huddled around the door of the English IV room, che daughters of the select in Elmsville discussed the probability of these rumors. Ner- vously they adjusted their regulation starched middies, and self-consciously pushed at a wayward lock of hair, or a curl, while now and then an adventurous group would break away, arm in arm, from the rest of the crowd and scan the bulletin board minutcly once more. Here they gazed in awed, open mouthed wonder at the curt, printed notice there. English IV Class: Please be on time promptly for 6th period instruction. A. Busuv. From that sign, each girl fancied she could judge precisely what Mr. Busby's character would be. Probably there had not bees such a prompt, interested English class at Miss Hanley's since the term began. Perhaps later, when the novelty of the occasion had worn off, the sixth period would be interrupted from time to time by the usual laggers to class, but on this day, at any rate, Mr. Busby would be spared that annoyance. On first glance, at least, it would have seemed that such was the case. Actually, there was one student missing from the giggling little group around the door. .Iangling his keys, Mr. Busby came down the hall. an imposing figure in slender black oxfords and a suit of gray. To the English IV class he appeared stern, kindly, and unbe- lievably handsome, and they pushed more furiously at their curls, giggled more delight- edly, and hoped against hope that they might make a favorable impression in their various recitations during this first peroid. They trickled into the room, daintily conscious of their feet, their uniforms, and their curls, and settled down with one tremendous sigh, while Mr. Busby bowed and smiled. I am very pleased, began Mr. Busby, professionally, after he had hastily scanned the thirty-odd blue skirted, white-middied group before him, to have your cooperation, which is shown by your arriving at my class on time today. It shows your respect and sense of responsibility. It tells me immediately that I shall have an attentive class at this school. And now, continued Mr. Busby, I will call the roll. Mary Jo Benton, called Mr. Busby a second time. Is Mary Benton here? A soft murmur arose from the throats of the English IV class. She was here this morning, General Liferary Svrliwz 1 PAGE 17