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Page 14 text:
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6 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR ARE YOU AN ACTOR? By Pauline Dudley, ’32 A LL the World is a Stage,” said A Shakespeare, and never was there a truer statement, for we all act, do we not? Some of us give fine, splendid per- formances. Others seem to be merely walking across the stage. Haven’t we all, at one time or another, been so dejected and miserable that we could have screamed and yet we kept on laughing, talking, being gay, even some- times overdoing it? What was that but act- ing? Which are you, a good actor or a bad one? Are you glorifying your part whether it is large or small, or are you degrading it? For remember, your own part, whether it has brought you glory or not, will be most impor- tant to you when the curtain is rung down on the final scene. Will your audience remember or will they forget? It all rests with you! The people of the theatrical life have an ex- pression which is like a code of honor to them; it is rarely violated. Always it is their motto, their one and only permanent creed: “The show must go on.” How many, many times we have seen this enacted on the stage, but isn’t it true outside the theatre, too? Isn’t it one of the cruelties of life that even though your own little world seems to be falling in broken bits around you, although your dreams seem shattered, life keeps on, unmoved, un- changed, racing on toward the inevitable goal which is never quite attained. There is no time to stop and sympathize for more than a moment. Then it is, when the sunshine seems to have faded away, that you find out what it .means to be a good trouper, to go forward with your head up and your eyes turned to- ward the future, to give the best performance of your life and spread happiness around you instead of making life miserable for your as- sociates. But no matter what you do the show will go on and either you will learn to be in the front ranks taking your cues without a falter, or you will fall to the rear, unnoticed, a shadow across the stage. Even if your part is but a bit, some one will understand and real- ize what lies in back of that gallant perform- ance, but, far better, you will have the realiza- tion in your own heart that you are carrying on, doing your part in the drama that is life. AN APPEAL! By Julia Saparoflf, '32 DO YOU KNOW that last year the Radia- tor was rated among the six best school publications in Massachusetts? This is a high honor, and I suppose we should be satisfied, but, like all ambitious editors we would like our paper to carry off first prize this year. But we can’t accomplish that feat or even keep our old success unless you, the student body, contribute much more material to the paper than you have so far this year. If more of you would write, we would have a greater variety of talent, and so have a better, more interesting Radiator. We need, especially, more poetry by different writers. If poets would buckle down and work, and give us the fruits of their labors, our Poet’s Corner would be the richer for it. You may be authors and poets without knowing it, so why don’t all of you try your hand at writing, and give us a “break”? You’ll be astonished at your capabil- ities, and so may the school. Come on, and put your finger in the literary pie! With your co-operation perhaps we can lead the ranks. ON LOOKING WISE By Marion Standish ISDOM is natural sagacity. There are many people, however, who think it is necessary for them to try to look wise. They really believe that if they look wise others will think they are wise. Such people are “wiseacres” and the character of this type of person is often not up to the stand- ard that it should be. It seems that when they begin to deceive by their appearance their whole life becomes mixed with deceit. We all can understand that people who naturally look wise have the advantage, but not as much advantage as one might think at first, because character shows plainly on the faces of men and women who are wise, and these people need not depend on their appear- ance when wisdom is tested. It may be that some people who are not wise succeed fairly well when they try to appear wise. But such people fear the result of their mask of knowl- edge for they are in constant danger of hav- (Continued on page 23)
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Page 13 text:
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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 5 The Hardening Process I “Ole Swimmin’ Hole is deserted again. The folks at home and country relations get a moment of peace now and then, yet the neighborhood grocer misses his errand boy. May we not flatter ourselves for once by saying that we are missed when we are in school? Do you know that there is a belief that when one is born the head contains a soft substance? Evidently, so the tale goes, this matter be- comes hardened as the young person learns a new trick or name, or the like, and so on through life. Now I suppose you are thinking that some of these professors and so-called “know-it-alls should be top-heavy. However, we’ll not go into that for the thing that really concerns us is whether or not we are getting any “hard spots. Surely we could wish for no more helpful surroundings than Somerville High School. Don’t you feel a little bit of self-importance when you come in sight of school in the morn- ing and realize that this convenient and inspir- ing layout is all for you? I do. Of course, I sympathize with those who dread entering, for isn’t it uncomfortable when you’re con- tinually wondering if the history teacher will call on you and when you’ve been to a show or dance the night before and haven’t done a bit of home study? You just know a reception will be tendered you, only it will be during the seventh period or else a chum remarks: “Say, Bill, you had all the luck today. You weren’t even asked to recite. Luck. Is it really luck and do we wait to be asked to re- cite? Certainly it is luck for the teacher but hardly for us, is it? Why, the way I’m carry- ing on you’d think we never studied, wouldn’t you? Still it’s good to remind ourselves that anyone can say “I don’t know, but it takes study and observation to learn to think so that one may honestly say and feel confident that he does know. What difference will it make in later years whether or not we remember a poem or a cer- tain “brain-teaser” in mathematics? No dif- ference whatever because after all if we ac- tually learned the poem, or whatever it might have been, our brain developed that much more as a result of it and even though the very words are not on the tip of our tongues, still our brains have conserved the idea expressed in the words and their beauty and meaning have developed the senses which make human life livable, for it is the union of all these senses which gives power to think. Then is it not easy to see that if each of these separate senses are well developed then their union into a thinking body should enable that person to appreciate the beauties and enjoy the happi- ness of life. Great educators and authors have purposely written books, poems and songs to convey this very idea and how can we, the leaders of to- morrow, conscientiously feel that we want to go through life missing half of what it holds for us solely because we did not make use of the opportunity that our schools and teachers offered — the opportunity to learn to think. W. C. R. ADVICE TO AN EDITOR By Edna Morus, ’34 When you feel that things arc slow. When your stock of news runs low, When there seems a woeful lack, And the murder-market’s slack, When, I say, you’re short of copy, Don’t grow lachrymose and sloppy.
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Page 15 text:
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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 Something to Remember Him By By David O’Brien, ’32 OLD JERRY, slouched in his chair by the training table, rose and prepared for business as the clump of many cleats signified the end of the game and the approach of the players. First came the substitutes, most of them without even their hair disar- ranged. These boys rushed in full of spirit and still fresh, all joking and in a joyful mood because of the victory. Next came the regu- lars, stamping in one by one, weary enough to drop, each accompanied to the door by one or more congratulatory friends. They were all mud-smeared, many of them limped, and few there were without some ache or pain. Soon the room was filled with hot steam from the shower, the smell of liniment, and the noise of Jerry’s slaps as he got busy on stiff muscles. Nowlan, the coach, walked about, critically eyeing the injured, giving a word of praise here and there, the watchful guardian of his flock. Nobody consciously noticed the last figure to slide in, drawn of face, resentment shining in his eyes. This was Ted Burwell, first string guard. Ted slouched over to his locker, spun the com- bination, flung in his helmet, and then fell on to the bench. He was bitter, had been bitter now for all of three weeks, he thought. No, he realized, he only felt this resentment after a hard day's practice or after a game, and queerest of all he didn't know just why. He was first string, played a good game, but that was it, just a “good” game. Curious but he was too tired to think of it now. “See you at supper, Ted,” called Frank Jones. His voice brought Ted up with a start, and he noticed that the locker room was almost empty. Slipping off his uniform, he took a shower, and soon was dressed and on his way to the training table supper. Everyone was in a great humor as Ted en- tered the room. Enthusiasm was rampant and banter held sway. “Hi! Ted, old sock!” “How’s the old ‘sweetheart of Sigma Chi?' ” “Hey All-America, where’ve you been?” “All-America,” growled Ted and hot anger surged up in him. “All-America” nothing! Why did they have to call him that he wond- ered? He finished his meal in comparative silence, as his tablemates soon excluded him from the conversation after he had favored them with a few non-committal grunts. He rose from the table and went to his room in the far corner of the third floor, there to brood with himself over this strange feeling which obsessed him. The next week passed uneventfully and Sat- urday found Ted in the lineup. He still had not shaken his obsession and was sullen as the team ran onto the field. That game ended in a nightmare for Ted. He missed tackles, let the opposition roll over and through him, balled up plays and did everything wrong. After he was taken out in the middle of the third quarter, Nowlan walked up to him and said: “Little stale, huh, Ted? that’s 0.. K. Take time off next week, you deserve it.” This, burned Ted up as he hated to admit that he had gone stale even though he knew it to be true. But this opinion traveled further with terrific results. While reading the reports of the game next morning, Ted encountered his name down in one corner of the page:------“Burwell played a lackadaisical and uninspired game, far below his usual standard” — “Uninspired,” the word smote him. Suddenly he realized just why he had hated the sight of a football these last few weeks. He wanted recognition. Not screaming headlines, he was not built that way, but just appreciation of his work. “Far below his usual standard,” the report read. So! they only expected just so much of him, hey! well he would show them next Saturday! his last game, give them “something lo remember him
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