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

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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

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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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mused someone aloud. Mr. Busby nodded and recorded a mark against the name. Now I have a lor of material to cover today, he told them when he had finished roll call. Today I will give my instructions as to behavior, class work, and study hours and explain my methods of grading. Tomorrow we can begin our regular lessons once more. Mr. Busby had reached behavior rule No. 9 when the door rattled and an annoyed treble, accompanied by the bang of the book falling to the floor, flooded the room. Oh, heck, said a voice, Oh, darn. In the front row one girl nudged another, and thirty pairs of startled eyes turned toward the door. In those eyes there was admiration, astonishment, and something like envy. How Mary Jo Benton always achieved the desired and unusual effects in every- thing she attempted was a source of unending mystery to the girls at Miss Hanley's school. Mary Jo had boasted that the new teacher would like her--more specifically that she would be A. Busby's pet, and the English IV class believed her implicitly. They had expected her to be prompt on this day, so that she might gain the new teacher's approval. But Mary jo never took the expected course. A part of the English IV class now began to comprehend faintly an inkling of Mary Jo's reasoning, she had wanted attention, whether unfavorable or not, thus she had arrived ten minutes late, when he had expressly requested that the class appear on time. Mr. Busby frowned at the unwelcome interruption and regarded the slight, red-haired girl with too much lipstick, who was just entering the room, with extreme disapproval. Mary Jo Benton, I presume, he said. Please be seated. Mary Jo sat with a rustling of her skirts and a vigorous chewing of her gum. She tossed her bright curls, extracted a pencil and sat stiffly at attention, something insolent in her gold flecked eyes. Mr. Busby was a tolerant man with children, but he sensed that here was an unusually disagreeable child. I announced especially that I wished my class to be on time this afternoon, he announced curtly. I suppose you have an explanation of your delay. Mary Jo transferred her generous wad of chewing gum from one cheek to the other and crossed her slim, silken clad legs. I had a soda on the way, she announced smugly. It was such a lovely soda! Her tone implied to Mr. Busby that she was laughing at him, that she was attempting to shake his habitual dignity before this class of critical girls. In such cases, Mr. Busby had been used to retaining his temper and calm, no matter how nettled he might be. Completely ignoring the flippancy of her reply, he adjusted his notes and proceeded with his instructions, only, his glance wandered impersonally to Mary jo after a moment. Throw away your gum, he ordered, interrupting behavior rule No. 14. Mr. Busby sat in his imposing office with his efficient aunt, Miss Hanley, watching her as she corrected smudgy examination papers with a firm red pencil. And how do you like teaching in a girls' school? asked Miss Hanley, marking a bold F on a particularly unkempt sheet. Are my students all right? Hm, replied Busby noncommittally. Who's this Mary jo Benton person, Aunt Hattie? Aunt Hattie's mouth sat in grimmer, firmer lines. What's that girl done now, she asked exasperatedly. She's really the school's worst trial. The girls worship her because she's got what they call nerve. She quarrels with all the teachers. She shan't, declared Mr. Busby, quarrel with me. An only child, I suppose, and pampered to death by fond parents. Miss Hanley pursed her straight lips now, and deliberated over a scrawled page. It was a matter of pride with her that she knew the intimate businesses and history of every family whose girls attended her select school. Mary jo's uncle is an explorer, I believe, she told her nephew. She's an orphan and has been in boarding schools all her life. The uncle has enough money to educate her well, General Literary Section 1 PAGE 18