Spence School - Yearbook (New York, NY)

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{ Almost everyone has a radio, and those who haven't get a steady stream of music rang- ing from “Just One Of Those Things’ to Beethoven's Sth! The gaiety and homelike atmosphere everywhere make one forget the word “homesickness.’’ And even if you do get a bit “blue,” there’s ping-pong to dispel your mood. At dinner, the girls all dress, and everyone looks lovely in the soft candlelighted dining-room. Thursday nights are especially gay as the Seniors invite two members of their class as guests. And, while the season lasts, the “lucky seven’’ who are going to the opera appear in evening dresses of all descriptions. After dinner, there is coffee in the drawing-room for Juniors and Seniors. The group is always interrupted by girls dashing to telephone calls as this time is known as the “telephone hour.” After a brief respite, the bell rings for study -hall which all but the Seniors have in the library on the third floor. No sooner is it over than everyone dashes up to the Milk Bar for crackers and whatever may be on hand. Again the radios blare forth, bright Argyles pervade the rooms, the day’s letters are re-read, and last-minute peeks at home- work taken before the 10:00 bell. The days are packed whether you are a 5-day or 7-day boarder. On week-ends, there is lunch and a movie with some of the day-girls, and the symphony on Sundays. Before you arrive in the Autumn, you will have from one of the “Old Girls’ a wel- coming letter which will tell in more detail of “Boarding Life’ at Spence, for these two pages are only an introduction. 55

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| A 17 At | ee ee ne ee eg Se Betty Blair So you’re coming to board at Spence next year? Like all prospective boarders, I know you have thousands of questions and so here goes. Don’t forget to bring one of your favorite animals—my bear loves someone to talk to when I’m downstairs. Speaking of downstairs, we spend almost the whole day there. We're up at 7:25, breakfast at 7:45, walk a little later in red taffeta petticoats for the “new look” instead of in red flannels as they did in the old days, and then back just in time to see if the mail is in before school starts. The next big break is lunch at 12:40. The boarders always bring troops of day-girls up to their rooms afterwards for a fleeting half-hour. Out come the needles and the Argyle socks, and the chatter and radios mount higher and higher. When school is over at 3:00, there are walks and gym or, if you’re a Senior and are free, you dash down to Schrafft’s for the afternoon. The Seniors live a “life of Riley’ — room study, no chaperones and loads of other privileges. As for rooms, most of us are lucky in having roommates as there aren’t many singles. Some of the girls decorate the w alls with pennants and banners—St. Marks, Princeton and Yale are well represented, and all the dressers sport pictures galore—and not just those of mama and papa! 54

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YEARBOOK CONTEST CLASSES XII, XI, X First PRIZE ESSAY orncrscnscrensccrnseiteinitsatoachgchn nner eter sires tan enn hepe aah tee Ra ar Joan Wickman ee Lily Emmet Pea | eaceecccs ke Ee ee et erate ee Joan Wickman CLASSES IX, VIII, VII FIRST PRIZE SLA} eee er ene Er ENERO ct bar MOROR emetic ere rere meme ote St og AREY Phyllis La Farge Narr dhivie ccc ee ee ee ee Gioia Vlahos PO CHE 2B owt le ee ee al ee ETE ee ee Frances Ewing THE VOICE OF PAN (Prize Poem) The warm and misty August evening air Was filled with memories of the careless spring, And promises of fruitful autumn-time. I heard the lazy slapping of the waves, And sleepy songs from little birds nearby, Yet somehow was my heart unsatisfied— This beauty seemed to me no part of God. Then suddenly I heard a mocking laugh, And from behind a tree a strange man stepped, Of wild appearance, bright and slanting eyes. And in a merry voice he said to me, ‘So Nature has no place in your God’s heart ? Why, then, not worship other gods, like me?” “Like you?” I cried. ‘There is but one true God!”’ And then he spoke with scornful ringing words That seemed alive and haunted me till now. “Before your God was born, the earth was ruled By spirits of the lakes, the trees, the sky. And spirits, though forgotten, never die. Is your stern God so jealous of the past? Is there not room for more than just one God ? The grass, the leaves, small flowers of the spring, The waters of the lake, the clouds, the birds— They know the voice of Pan—now yow shall hear,” And then the gr eat god Pan spoke of the past, Of gods and nymphs that ancient lands once loved. He told me of the strong eternal hills, Of hills that cradled pagan altars grim, That hid the fairy rings and Druid stones. 56