St Helena Extension School - Saint Yearbook (Norfolk, VA)

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1 . “ The only campus dominated by the largest crane in the world” 2. “ The only campus subjected to the most putrid smell in the world” — Col. Fitzroy -The Student Body r 106 ]

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t946-47 September 21 Registration. For all a new life. For many a new home. September 25 Convocation. The pomp and ceremony of academic tradition. The faculty in cap and gown. The past, the present, the future. October 25 First dance. A gay informality that was to become a standard. November 4 Inaugural meeting of the Great Books Club. For the literati, Plato. November 6 First issue of SHE published. A student’s newspaper, named, com- posed and censored by the students. November 27 Publication of the first Dean’s List. Academic recognition. For some, joy; for others, sorrow. January 8 Initial basketball game. By E. C. T. C. a defeat. The first of many. January 25-30. . . .Final Semester Examinations. Midnight oil and cram classes, blood, sweat and fears. An opulence of posted grades. A promise to do better. February i Berkley Civic Dance. From the people of Berkley, low lights, music, and hangovers. February 7 Beauty contest launched. A wife, a girl, a whistle, a sigh. A heart that beat a little faster. February 19 First play. The warm glow of the footlights, the cold criticism of the audience. March 15 Spring formal. A governor, a queen, a best girl, an orchestra. A hand- kerchief marked with red, an empty flask. April 21 Elections. A candidate, a cheap cigar, a handclasp, an office filled. May 24-29 Examinations. Again, again, again. May 29 Summer vacation. For the weary, rest. September 18 Registration. Old faces, new courses. October 7 Political Campaign. Screaming banners, leaflets dropped by plane. OcoBER 15 Election. An officer elected, a quiet regained. November 12 Open House. To the public, an invited view. December 14 Christmas vacation. A time to forget. February 24-29. . .Examinations. A time to remember. April 24 Annual Formal Dance. A stiff white shirt, the clink of glasses, cheek-to- cheek dancing, a wilted corsage, a tired, aching body. June 3 Final Examinations. For some a degree, for others a transfer. For all a farewell. June 6 Summer vacation. The end of something, the beginning of something. For the future, the eternal question. [ 105 ]

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7 StucCmt By LeRoy Spruill and Barney Annas The inmates of Saint Helena, the on-campus students, tread their knowledge-laden paths with complete assurance that their aspiring climb upward will not be hindered by that pitiful mass of displaced persons, the off-campus student. The true off-campus student lives beyond the far-flung reaches of the antiquated trolley lines, and, to them. Saint Helena presents an almost impossible goal to attain each and every day. The school is located on the other side of a natural moat, to we who live on the Norfolk side, and is made doubly hard to reach because of the amazing regularity with which the drawbridge operates in the path of the oncoming students. Weighing each factor carefully it has been decided that the geography of the surrounding area and the architectural menace of the bridge is of trivial importance; the main disaccord in the existence of the off-campus student is that he experiences the horror of having a home of his own. The on-campus student who has only thirty or forty dormitory friends to contend with may be considered lucky. Allow your thoughts to dwell for a moment on the plight of the off-campus student who has returned home only to find that Little Sister Sue has dunked his history lecture notes in her oatmeal, or, worse yet, upon arising, he is confronted with a formidable opponent in the shape of his wife, grotesquely disarrayed and lurking behind puckered lips — waiting for her reward for burning his breakfast. He usually arises two hours before class time, literally vegetates for minor eternities at isolated street car stops, is dissected physically and mentally by irate conductors and groggy shipyard workers, only to be thwarted by The Bridge before he arrives in school. Pity the poor soul who commutes ten to forty miles a day from such places as Suffolk, Virginia Beach, or Monkey Bottom, North Carolina. He has to contend with sleep-blinded drivers, hazardous driving by moonlight, and mental deterioration on his own behalf. He is usually late for his first class, and, toward the waning hours of the day, would seem to be ready for the infirmary or Miss Tillotson’s nerve pills. When the day’s sch edule has been survived, he must repeat the agony of a return trip, only to face an empty house, or worse. Grandma, rocking maliciously, and conflicting Hume’s philosophy with her own. That evening, to the tune of yowling offspring, he will dine, and, more important than the Napoleonic Wars, he will “do the dishes.’’ Studying is a simple matter, accomplished between visiting relatives and inquiring children. The off-campus student conquers college: with grease-stained lecture notes, being fortified with heartburn, and with cries of chorusing dependents ringing in rouge-smudged ears — he’s off! [ 107 ]