Spencer High School - Spencerian Yearbook (Spencer, IN)

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XX HIGH SCHOOL LIFE BETWEEN THE LINES-Continued. jolly friendship that followed? Perhaps the teachers moved him away in the midst of it, but that didn't alter things--much. Do you remember that handsome, manly young fellow who picked up your books that Windy morning, as you were going to school, and the silly cartoon which blew out and began your acquaintance? Or, again, that polite, curly-haired cavalier who escorted you home that rainy evening, under his umbrella, in order to make the hit which the girls wouldn't give him an introduc- tion for? Do you remember the time when you met him on the stairs during school hours, and the superintendent caught you, and ordered youboth to your rooms? Ah yes, and many more such incidents, past and present, you will never forget! Then, too, there are the social affairs, class parties of many kinds, hay-rides and skating parties. Yes, you remember those, too! The jolly games and amusements you enjoy now, as you will at no other time in your life. Let no one take them away! There are commencements, banquets and other imposing affairs with their distributions of honors and fun, their worries of dress and behavior, which at the time seem very serious. We would not change these for anything! All this without considering lessons and athletics! Much could be said about both, as showing the under-current of high school life, and the rippling little eddies that move on to the placid or rushing river of later years. It is all necessary and worth while. A school without the life between the lines is dead and dead indeed. 'The Ships. RU'1'i-I CULMER, '16, When we look back o'er the sea of life, At the wreck of the Yesterday, We think of all the toil and strife That with it has faded away. But anchored lies in yon sheltered cove The good ship called Tomorrow , Chmay it bring to those we love All joy, no touch of sorrow. 24

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High School Life Between The Lines. IRMA GRAY, '14. UBETWEEN the Lines! That which is not provided for in the rules and regulations. That which exists for those who wish and look for it, otherwise remaining unseen. The pages and pages between the lines are adapted to ourselves, our natures, our inclinations, and reflect our moods. Between the lines we find sunshine or gloom as we make it. It is companionship in little things that does so much toward fostering interest and success. In school life is this especially true. The hard student finds only his books to interest himg the giddy, heedless youngster cares nothing for his studies, and lives only in the merry, rollicking round of mischievous rule-breakingg while the pupil who strikes the happy medium is the normal specimen. The high school age sees the character which has been forming during earlier years, molded, often, into a firmness which holds, and makes the man or the woman. Truly important is the fact, that the part of school life which is not provided for in the school regulations is that which makes, to many, the drudgery of lessons bearable, and which supplies the stimulus of zeal and interest, without which little would be accomplished. One of the many little things which tend toward this interest is one which comes to every person, that of hurrying to be on time. Suppose your exemptions depend upon being at school at half-past eight, and you wearily open your eyes at a quarter past. It doesn't matter why you are so late, it may have been merely a sleepless night, caused by the mince-pie which you ate for supper, the fact remains. For a moment you are horrified, you rub your eyes and look again at the clock. It cannot be! When you realize the truth, you give up in despair. Then there arises in your breast that spark of stubborness that has saved many a day, and you are possessed with the burning desire to beat Time and bluff him entirely. You dress as you are sure you never dressed before, and feel that you present a most ridiculous appearance, but-you are not tardy. Then after recitation you are delighted-at least the girl is-to be told by your most candid friends that they really couldn't tell the difference. For one day, at least, you feel an interest in school life. Then there are the thousand and one little incidents of daily life, which one is indeed unfortunate to have missedg the notes passed on the sly , the hurriedly whispered confidences in hall-way and assembly rooms 5 the mischievous pranks played on class-mates, and-dare I say it ?-on teachers. Who does not recall with a smile-partly mirthful, partly tender-his experience in school cases '? Do you remember the rollicking youngster who occupied the seat in front of yours, when you came into school, a new scholar? Do you remember the naughty wink he gave you that first morning, and the astonished, then admiring, expression of his face as you gravely returned it instead of blushing or getting angry? Then the 23 l

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On My Way To School. JUANITA BAUMGARTNER, '15. As I was strolling down a side street on my way to school one warm spring morning, I passed a large colonial house covered with green vines. An old-fashioned garden, merry with bright flowers lay on one side, on the other were trees and a cozy summer-house, in the door of which I spied an old lady knitting. ,ln order that I might more closely observe this in- teresting picture, I walked along very slowly. The old lady had snowy white hair which waved about her face. Her eyes were blue and her cheeks a delicate pink. Every few minutes she gazed eagerly down the street as if looking for some one. On her perfectly poised head she Wore a white lace cap, trimmed with lavender ribbon. Her dress, too, was lavender, around her throat was a white kerchiefg a small white apron helped to soften the picture. I thought at once of a beautiful painting I had seen of a dear old Puritan dame. As I turned the corner, the coun- tenance of the dear old lady brightened perceptibly, and I noticed a chubby, golden-haired, rosy-cheeked tot of about five years come running up. Dramma, drammaj' he shouted, I tum to det my tookies l And the dear old lady surrendered the contents of her spacious pockets to him. The Boy Next Door. LULU WAMPLER, 'l5. I remember that in a town where we once lived we all had somewhat of a horror of the boy next door. Not that he ever did anything really mean, but the many pranks he played on us and on other long-suffering families, portrayed a never-subsiding mischievousness. His ingenuity along that line was marvelous. One did not have to live by him more than a month to find him a careless, care-free, impetuous boy, brimming over with fun and spirit. You could see it in the sparkling of his blue eyes, and in his breezy way of saying Good morning. The abundance of light brown hair, which curled around his forehead, was usually bushed up from hastily pulling off his cap. His mother told me that he had a most unaccountable way of wearing out stockings and trousers, and his father marvelled at the pairs of shoes his young son could get away with in a year. One never considered it quite safe to leave anything of value on the back porch. Whenever Billy found anything in his neighborhood that was not fastened nor too heavy to drag away, he generally considered it his property. If it were a strap, he would have it around his dog's neck, leading him all over town, if it were a base-ball, he would be getting up a game with his neighborsg or, if it were a pair of skates, he would be skating down town to get the mail. I remember one time in particular we had company to dinner. The ice cream was in the freezer on the back steps, All went smoothly till Mother went to get the dessert. Just as she opened 25