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Page 29 text:
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m: ioics TEN score and eight weeks ago our Fathers let loose upon this campus two hundred forty-one freshmen. Although conceived in liberty, we were soon dedicated to the proposition that all sophomores are slave drivers. All that is past. Now we are engaged in great celebration . . . celebration of what, we do not know., for like the court of Louis XVI we rejoice in the shadow of the guillotine. For four years we have been flitting about eluding realities. Wolf-like, they lurk at the chape! door waiting to pounce on us as we emerge with our diplomas. Yet, as classes go, we shall be well equipped to grapple with the situation, for if we are outstanding for any virtue, that virtue is versatility. We have had to adjust ourselves to changes that were shocking to our academic nervous systems, and we at least seem to have survived. We had the temerity to enter college at the rock bottom of the depression. It was a gamble, but it was a lucky one,-to-day the evidences of a more abundant living almost engulf us. The communistic economic order is passing . . . to-day a college man even knows whether he’s wearing his own socks or his room-mates. S M T Hi C WM SLIPPERY ROCK MM P A We have survived the crumbling of the old regime and the installation of the new. In our careers we watched the departing and arriving faculty members pass in a bewildering procession. In the women’s dormitories, playing cards came out of hiding, and patent-leather shoes and pajamas became respectable items in milady’s wardrobe. With our leaving, the old order will have passed from the student mind forever. The boys were installed in South Hall in 1935 and the restless spirit of their former sanctuaries, The Pines and The Maples, were tamed under the domestic hands of Mrs. Ketterer and Mrs. Yingling. In our sophomore year the prospect of final exams reared its ugly head and has been haunting us ever since. In our senior year objective testing, which we had been deluded into believing was one of the sacred cows of education, was banished, and essay examinations triumphantly took its place, leaving us again, gullably idealistic as we were trying to bridge the gap between theory and practice, ideals and realities.
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Page 30 text:
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m: ioics In d comparison of class histories we find our class has done well all those thinss classes are expected to do. Our resources contributed much to the success of our basketball, football, and soccer teams. Our class politics have functioned smoothly and without that partisan friction which sometimes characterize class activities. Our departure will be concommittant with a tremendous social change at Slippery Rock. Forty-thousand dollars worth of fire towers are to replace our old fire escapes. Since the towers can be opened only from the inside after hours, they will be co-ed proof as well as fire proof. Thus they will serve a dual purpose, for not only will they strike a blow to danger by preventing students from being consumed in a dormitory fire but will also strike a blow to sin by preventing their souls from being consumed in a different sort of fire. Never more will our Cinderellas, on taking leave of their princes charming, be forced to throw their shoes into the face of a revolver-toting ogre to impede his progress in that grim race up those iron stairs. 1 9 3 7 ■■■! S A X I G E N A Entering school in the face of adversity, we seem to be leaving in the same way. We are the first class to contend with the teachers’ tenure law. Formerly all a Slippery Rock graduate had to do to get a job was to wait for a school marm to succumb to the wiles of Cupid. The state legislature has deprived us of this ally. The only thing we ninety college seniors can do now is to wait till some of the lady teachers get sick and tired of supporting their husbands. Although flippancy is a vital element in youth’s defense mechanism, we can’t leave school without shedding a tear. There are aspects of Slippery Rock that we have learned to love . . . simple things we shall miss: The friendly greeting of everyone we meet on the campus . . . The welcome security of the curfew bell . . . The mellow warmth of old brick in the sunlight . . . Long leisurely discussions about everything and nothing . . . Dogwood blossoms falling in the May sunlight . . . The provocative smell of bread baking at noon in the kitchen . . . The click of hurrying heels between classes . . . The fellowship and abundant enthusiasm at a game, when faculty members forget they are faculty members, and students forget they are students . . enough of this sentiment. It’s below the dignity of seniors to snivel. THE
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