Starrett School for Girls - Starette Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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E ll O Junior College COLLEGE CLASS ACTIVITIES The college class, under the guidance and leadership of the class officers, president, vice president, and secretary-treasurer, and sponsored by capable members of the fac- ulty, has spent a very active year. The heart', project of the class has been the sponsorship of the Library and every possible effort has been extended in that direction. Funds, of course, were a necessity and in order to pour the gold into our coffers we have had four bake sales which, we are happy to state, met with enthusiastic response on the part of the faculty and stu- dent body. In addition to the sales, we have maintained a rental shelf, receipts from which have been made use of as purchasing power. The student body has been made aware of our activities by means of the Library Bulletin Board whereon has been posted news of the literary world and the furtherance of our project. But, we have not had all work and no playf, We, too, have enjoyed our social mo- ments. Let's see. There was the Pie and Crust Week -a week of surprises and secrets in which everyone was a giver as well as a receiver. The daily Pie and Crust activities culminated in a delightful party held at Miss Gaiford's apartment, and it was then that all the cats were let out of the bag. Then, too, we have had Social Third I-Ioursf' There was a Christmas Play, a pro- gram of sketches and musical numbers, a talk by Miss Phillips, and the talk given by Miss Jane Addams, noted social worker, to which occasion the entire faculty and student body were invited. We contributed to the annual prom, lending both Hnancial support and cooperative spirit to make the social affair a success. Clubs and activities outside of the class circle are supported by our members. French Club, Aberdeen, G. A. A., and others claim us as participants. We have also had repre- sentation in the Student Council, Social Service, and the Dress Committee. A-nd last, but not least, we have had the distinction of having a class member listed among the faculty! The crowning success of the year was the traditional pre-Commencement Garden Party sponsored by us with the cooperation of the entire student body. Do you wonder why we claim that it was an active year? It was a happy one and we are lookin forward to another crammed full to the ver to . 8 Y P Fiflccn

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NIGHT Night is deep- None of its mystery solved by human minds. People wonder about it But learn nothing! Some study stars, but they hold the secret of night closer. Night is strong, At times frightening, other times sooth- ing- Night is deep. --Jean Russell, Senior MEDITATION Life is strange, Unfathomable. Sometimes happy, Sometimes sad. A few thrive under it While others wilt and die- Who can solve this mystery of life? -Jean Russell, Senior HOPE The little yellow dog curled up in the big, red chair gazed dreamily at the fire. Everything was so good-he had a perfectly delicious bone hidden safely in his little bed and he was warm and sleepy-life was good. I -am sorry, John, but we cannot have that cur here in this house another night. Mrs. Williams has a new wolfhound. I will not stand the mortification another mo- ment. A muffled protest from the husband followed. In a short time the dog saw instead of the fire, a cold, dark world. He came back to the door and whined hopefully. No response-no sound. A half hour passed and his eyes gradually lost their hopeful expression. Slowly he trotted out to the street. If he only had his bone, it would be all right, but no bone and no family was hard-very hard. The lights in the houses shone forth invitingly but were as inaccessible as his lost bone. Winding his way through the now deserted streets, he was aware of a damp cold that seemed to fit in with his spirits. A man rounded the corner. He looked at the little dog, and as their glances met, there was a firm bond between them-both deserted and alone -the man passed on. Suddenly something made the lamp lights grow dim and artificial. It was a white ball hanging low, just above the buildings. It was cold looking-the dog hurried on a bit faster but it followed him. He ran along without aim but with that indestructable faith that dumb animals possess. Soon his home and his family would come. His simple little puppy mind half expected the warm ire and the red chair to appear right after the next corner. It did'n't though, but he was greeted instead by a husky Hello there, doggy ole fellow. The merry inebriate almost stepped on him. What was this silvery thing in front of him? It was a long strip of water glistening because of the white ball in the sky. It was so cold looking. There seemed to be no way of going farther. His ridiculous yellow tail drooped ever so slightly and his dark little form was etched clearly against the brightening sky-there was hope in his eyes. -Azalea Wiggins, Senior Fourleen

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OLD SHOES Old shoes are one of my most valued possessions. The older they are, the shabbier they look, the more I value them. Why? I don't know exactly. Of course, they are always comfortable, still there is more to old shoes than just comfort. They are friendly things always ready to be of service, never stopping to question me about rain or s-now in the street, and whether or not they will be stretched out of shape. They are usually mis-shapen, having long ago adopted the contour of my foot, until one day when mother will unearth them from a dark corner of my closet and probably burn them in the furnace, to my great displeasure. My favorites among old shoes are the oxfords, and I hang onto them until they almost shout at me to allow them a quiet and peaceful burial in the ash-can or wherever ancient oxfords go. My mother usually takes their side of the battle. There is something about a scuffed, dirty, ragged, brown and white oxford in mid-winter that is comforting. You can look down at them and remember back to the days when they were new, in the spring of 1931 and completed a stunning golf outfit that has long ago been discarded. Or remember the day only last summer when they were almost lost when you were try- ing to cross a swamp instead of going around as common sense told you to. Then the slash in the side of the right one, that was the day you were thrown from that beastly pinto, Oscar was has name, and thought you were killed when all that had happened Was, Oscar had stepped on your foot. Oh, oxfords are grand things to have around, if they only wouldn't wear out, and force you to leave them in the past While you walk valiantly on into the future. --Jane Gilbert, College II A NEW SPRING HAT A warm spring rain, the smell of fresh, damp earth, and what do I get? An urge to buy a new hat. I don my hangover-from-the-winter-season hat which has suddenly be- come very shabby and I set forth. I begin to wonder why I ever liked the hat or why I never noticed that it was so shabby and drab. Surely, it was an ugly blot on the shining brightness of the early spring morning. But, I reassure myself. Within three or four hours the once-upon-a-time good-looking hat will darken this world no longer. No. I have no particular kind nor color of hat in mind. I'll look at them all. Up and down State Street I go. Into every store, and in each one it's the same old story: Yes, I like this one very much, but I think I'll look a bit further. There is time out for lunch and then I resume my search for the new spring bonnet. By four olclock in the afternoon, I am clog-tired. My hair is anything and everything but combed. My spirits are lagging. And, then, wonder of wonders! I find it ! just the very thing! I make my purchase, receive my change, and saunter forth proudly with a gay band- box i-n which reposes, on a veritable cushion of tissue paper, my new possession. Gone are my lagging spirits and aching feet. I have uperked up considerably. The W0rld's troubles aren't mine. I'm one apart from it all. Why? I have my new spring hat! -Aletha Eggert, College II Sixteen