Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. 9 TLhe Sophomore's IDream. CLAM. Arid August had just blown into sur- reptitious September. Classical applica- tion had just succeeded irresponsible freedom. The Sophomore parted with his vacation feeling as only a Sopho- more can. Having served his one year’s apprenticeship, he returned to his Alma Mater with the mistaken idea that he was a factor in her institutions, that he was something a little lower than a Senior and immeasurably greater than a Freshman, and that he was a subject to be regarded with wonder and admiration by the existing class of inexperienced youngsters. In fact, his whole appear- ance suggested the idea that internally the estimate placed upon his general value was “ O.K.” For a time this indomitable self-satis- faction wore well. It always does. It might have lasted indefinitely but for circumstances. The present Freshman class, like all other Freshman classes (possibly like the very Freshman class in which our Sophomore had once begun an unsuccessful stern chase after knowl- edge), despite its glaring greenness, its natural and child-like freshness, ceased to do many things which smack of our more cosmopolitan grammar school education, ceased to feel out of place in its classical surroundings, and ceased to look upon a Sophomore as a rare and happy possi- bility, reverencing only a few tall Seniors and the busy Radiator men. This reaction had a bad effect upon the Sophomore in question. He medi- tated upon his wrongs daily in long and tedious study periods, and nightly in calm and peaceful sleep. One night, after participation in a little game of whist, a happy, blissful dream seemed to reveal a method of solving the whole difficulty. The vision appeared about midnight. The first sensation was motion, that vague, indescribable feeling of motion that carries us through all our nocturnal travels, in a mass of darkness which sometimes resolves itself into night, and sometimes remains shapeless, boundless space. Then the dreamy student be- came conscious of a ludicrous feeling of compulsion. He was sailing through the air at a track-sprinter’s pace, but not because he wanted to. Yet he seemed to be driving something,— what it was the gloom effectually concealed, but he held a line in each hand. Still he wasn’t exactly “pushing on the reins,’’ the reins were pulling him. “Somebody’s got me on a string,— no, two strings,— perhaps they’re apron strings,” he mused. The reins dropped. The scene shifted. He found himself in a grove— a grove of pines and firs and hemlocks, whose bristling branches, in the moon’s gentle light, shut out the heavens in patches resembling irregular daubs of ink. Between the two battalions of silent, listening shadows was an open space. The ground was covered with young fellows, who from their number and disorder could be nothing but stu- dents. They were supported by long laboratory settees grouped in a semi- circle around a carefully built centre- piece, a black speaker's platform, bear- ing in long gold letters upon its face, “ Tandem.” About this stand, pro- tected by this motto, was a group of tall, sober boys. The main body was in three divisions. A motley crowd of grinning, twisting, wriggling children in the middle was flanked on the right by a haughty array under the proud banner, “Knowledge is Power,” and on the left by a sedate, well-behaving coterie who unpretentiously displayed the standard, “Our Trust Is in the Seniors.” In his vision the Sophomore was standing near the platform. The feel- ing of restraint was gone. He was par- ticipating in th° shifting scene as a spec- tator ; he was walking, listening, seeing, and thinking. 11 is fancy soon revealed

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. A Summer Evening. cues teh no Lit hook brows, s. l. a., iooi. Slowly down behind the mountains Sinks’the sun in all his splendor ; Shafts of gold upon the water, Shafts of gold upon the mountains, breaking through the purple cloud-rifts, Purple cloud-rifts lined with silver. Golden lights now change to crimson, Now to violet, now to azure, Deepening, as the sun,descending, Seeks the far off eastern countries. Till two clouds alone remaining, Rosy with the sun's last kisses. Pictured in the lake's smooth mirror, Seem like stately swans reposing— Two pink swans upon the surface. Into the cool water shoving My canoe, I paddle slowly, Softly, through the reeds and grasses, Through the nodding Hags and rushes, Out among the water lilies. There awhile to sit and ponder. Pondering, to watch the moon rise Down across the swampy meadow, From the forest covered hillsides, From the glades among the pine trees, borne along upon the west wind Comes the sweetest of bird-voices, Comes the hermit thrush's singing, Falling like a benediction; breathes of peace and of contentment. Tells his love of God and Nature. Everything is dark and silent: All the birds have ceased their singing : Stealthily across the meadow Comes the west wind lightly treading; breathes upon the sleeping water, And the tiny waves, awaking. Follow in each other's footsteps To the edges of the lakelet, Rippling softly 'cross the sand bars, babbling lightly o’er the pebbles, Lappmg gently on the marshes, Singing lullabies to Nature, Drowsy murmurings of slumber. Everything is dark and silent: Not a sound provokes the stillness Save the crickets in the grasses. Save the frogs among the marshes, Save the murmur of the water. And the humming of mosquitoes. In and out among the alders, To and fro beneath the willows, Dance the fireflies by thousands, Flashing, sparkling like diamonds. Deep down in the swampy places, Where the water brown and stagnant Lies with shadow green upon it, burns the fox-lire glistening, gleaming, Camp fires of the gnomes and eif-folk, Of the gnomes that haunt the marshes. O’er the summit of black Mountain. O'er the heights of spruce and hemlock. First a light flooding the treetops— Now a narrow strip of silver, Now a cimeter of silver, Growing larger, larger, larger, Comes the full moon slowly sailing Silently across the heavens. Slowly, then, I paddle shoreward. Shoulder my canoe and turning, Look upon the silent lakelet. Molten silver in the moonlight. On the shore across the water Stands a venerable spruce tree, Scarred by thunderbolt and tempest. Patriarch among its neighbors. Lifting its bare arms to heaven Like a spectre in the moonlight. From among its scraggy branches Comes the whip-poor-will's complaining ; Sad and mournful, weird and ghost like. Echoing across the water. Two Departures. The “vacant chair” has been most unusually in evidence among the E.II.S. faculty the present year. Two impor- tant positions, those of master and sub- master, were left vacant by the de- parture of Mr. Getchell for the principal- ship of the Hyde Park High School, and of Mr. Akers for that of Holyoke. Both gentlemen had been connected with the E. II. S. since an early period of its existence, and by their hearty sympathy in all departments, both scholastic and athletic, as well as by their masterly instruction, had made their work one of influence and power. 2 The New Master. That the School Board of Somerville believe in Civil Service is plainly proven by their action in advancing Sub-Master Avery to the vacant master’s position. Mr. Avery has been connected with the E- H. S. since its opening and has been an indefatigable worker and a most suc- cessful instructor. He is thoroughly conversant with the working manage- ment of the school and is heartily in sympathy with its policy in every par- ticular. Committee and school arc for- tunate to have in our midst the needed man for the important vacancy in the master’s position.

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IO SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. to him that he was at a huge school gathering. His mood taught him that each of the four divisions was an under- graduate class. 11 is common-sense told him that grouped immediately about the stand were Seniors, that directly before it were Freshman, that the haughty ones were fellow-Sophomores, and the others just Juniors. But the nature of the exercises completely puzzled him. At length it seemed quite natural to query of a youth whose recognized leader- ship and unlimited self-confidence proved him to be no other than the president of the Senior class and master of cere- monies,— “ What sort ot a shooting match is this ? ” “ These,— O ignorant one,—these are the Woodbine exercises. Here, annu- ally, we gather black sheep into the fold, we welcome the Freshmen, as it were. Here, annually, the president of the Senior class hands down to posterity an oration. That,” he remarked, pointing to the large, black stage, “is the centre- piece. am the master-piece.” Just then everything became silent, and all attention was turned toward a solemn procession issuing from under the gloomy branches. A Sophomore and a Junior supported a large draped motto, escorted by a dozen hushed Seniors in lock step. Evidently “Quak- er’s meeting ” had begun. They paused before the pulpit, and raised the placard high above their heads. The president mounted the stairs, all the Seniors re- moved their hats, and the stillness be- came oppressive. At last, clearing his rhetorical throat, he began — “ My children, our first duty is to bid you welcome. It is done. It is our next to prepare you for the obligations you take upon yourselves by thus entering our classic halls and woody grove. Your first perquisite is a motto. Recognizing the fact that your inexperi- ence would render it difficult, we have consequently made the choice for you. Torches! ” At this, two flaming lights were held before the chromo, and the president gracefully reached over and loosed the drapery, declaiming,— “ Ignorance is bliss.” “ The Latin for which is er — er — £. Pluribus Unum, which you see engraved upon this canvas. It is your motto, 'lake it — keep it — live up to it — out- grow it. Marshals, do your duty ! ” The whole escort advanced, and the marshals unsmilingly presented the pon- derous daub to the only Freshman in long trousers, whose embarassment proved too great for words. Next, the other class presidents were called upon to volunteer advice. The sub- stance of the Junior’s remarks was just this — “ a little learning is a dangerous thing.” The Sophomore prated more extensively, yet said much less. Finally he unconsciously succeeded in creating the impression that if the last speaker’s words were true, Sophomores would never be very dangerous. Other re- marks were given and received, argu- ments were made and un-made, all out- lining the Freshman's position, obliga- tions, present uselessness, and hope of future value. Throughout all these ser- vices a serious, solemn, almost sombre vein had been sustained. It had seemed necessary to present to the Freshmen a calm, indifferent demeanor, a contrast to their own child-like maneuvers. The Senior president himself, by his taciturn and laconic sentences, discouraged any approach to light-headed clatter, and with his classical frown crushed all hys- terical chuckles. Again the Seniors resumed control. Again the master of ceremonies rose to the occasion. Again he addressed coun- selling words to the attentive throng. “ Colleagues, the dawn appears. Freshmen, at last reflective realization dawns upon your vacant minds. To accomplish this, to make you see your duty clear and give you strength to do it,— that is why we hold these brief sepulchral exercises. Now prepare yourselves for the worst. Among us is a strange phenomenon, a man out of place in his surroundings, with oily tongue but shallow mind, — gentlemen, it is with grave misgiving and severe apprehen- sion that I permit our poet laureat to spout. Cave canem. Nothing daunted this black-hearted individual rose. With both hands in his pockets he humorously bowed to the