St Anthony High School - Tattler Yearbook (St Anthony, ID)

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T H E T A T T L E R iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Mr. Jewell ' s well known speeches: “ There’s going to be a game — ” Mr. Arp ' s accusing finger , As he calls aloud our name. There ' s Mr. Kindig ' s long exams But always willing help , And no matter what has happened There’s a smile for Mrs. Bell. So faculty, studies, friends, Games in basket ball. Lectures, singing, parties — Yes, we’ll miss them all. So, we shouldn ' t want to make Time fleet And think it at all slack. For our opinions soon reverse. We want to turn it back. Page Thirty one

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the tattle r mini Fleeting Time Have you ever in your childhood Thought Old Times so dreadful slow. And wound and wound with all your might To try and make them go? Have you waited for the summers, And waited for the falls. Looking for the future To bring some brighter calls? But oh, why cant we realize. Before it is too late, The free happiness of all our life Is in our schoolhood days. In looking back o’er memories Of all our High School life We realize with wonder There was sunshine more than strife. We ? ll miss the dear old high school W hen we get beyond its walls, We’ l miss Miss Wood’s “no talking, girls,” When we gossip in the halls. We’ll miss those “tardy” lectures As the Sophomores straggle in; Or a Freshman peeks around the corner To see if school’s “begin.” We’ll miss Miss McKinney’ s blushes. As she scolds amid her smiles. And Miss McDougair s cheerful laugh W hen she chats with us a while. Page Thirty

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THE TATTLER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINIimillllllllllimillllllllll Romances of St. Anthony High I’ve heard of many romances, O love ’ neath azure sky; But there are few that can surpass Those of our St. A. High. If you’ll come in and steal a glance You’ll find them there in twos, In the fartherest corner of the room, With loving looks and coos. Love must be blind, as poets say. You can look and laugh and shout; But they’re so busily engaged They don’t know you’re about. They sit with such a love-lorn look. From four till half past five; As for the clock. I’ll bet that they Forget that it’s alive. In fact I know they quite forget That school was meant for books. Or for another single thing But lovers’ cozy nooks. In hall and rooms and every floor You’ll find it just the same; Then we just can’t blame them. For it is such a thrilling game. But still you know, or ought to know, That some times play must lull. All work, or we’ll forget to smile And find that life is very dull. With romances and books and work We’ll make our St. A. High Just climb until her deeds will grow To reach the very sky. R. P., ’22. Page Thirty-two