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

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Iiollom Row: V. Harvell, S. Sultan, G. Hunt, Miss Andrews, M. Plaistcd, C. Grawoig Top Knut U. l3eW'itt, li. Stewart, V. Millard, xl. Cannvnn, M. McDonnell, M. Buckley, -I. Slierwnod N, Mnlmfeldt Qflflxellf: G. Fieldj SOPHOMORE CLASS M155 WINIFRED ANDR1iXYfS, Spmlxor MARY PLAISTIZD-Pl'c'Xirf1'7lf Mary excels in many fields Her interests are vnriedg Many friends she has nr school Though heavy work she carried, GLADYS HUN'I'-Vive'-Pr1'siJz'f1t XY'e .ill agree that Glndy's sweet, Vi'e like her friendly wnyg She's equally sincere and nice Vfhether nt Work or play. QIIVUIII lvfi fo Vilqblj CORINIQ GRAW'OIG-Sc'4'ri'lury In every meeting that we have Corinne our minutes reads: ln social limes and elnsswork tim The rest she always leads. SHlfll.A SULTAN--Trr'uxuri'r Sheila is ai lot uf fun, Shc's witty and she's clever: Our treasurer and friend this year, We'Il remember her fnrever. Tzwuly-five

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Twenty- four TROPICAL STORM Black wind and rushing rain- Trees in frenzied contortions- Noise-yet with a strange absence of human sound. . . A feeling of insignificance combined with one of greatness. A feeling of smallness of body- Yet largeness-ability of spirit. Ambition of superhuman accomplishment. The clearing .... Brilliant sun, dazzling color- Trees standing upright and triumphant. Clamor of living things, miraculously safe and calm. . . The world and one's self back into the groove. -Sheila Sultan, Sophomore THE VITAL HOUR On the eve of the prom While we're waiting for Tom, Our joys and our fears rise and fall In hopes that he may Send a wee, tiny spray Of flowers loved by us all. As the hour draws nearer The doom seems the clearer And my hope of flowers is dim. But just as despair is filling air, The bell rings and I give a sigh. Then with crushing of paper and flying of thread, Soon a priceless treasure is laid on the bed. He has not forgotten the kind and the size, The color and shade that matches my eyes. So with great glowing fragrance of beauty Tom leads flowers and me away on his arm. and charm, -Gladys Hunt, Sophomore MOTHER SPRING Soon Mother Spring will be here again, Then will come many a silvery rain. The golden sun on the earth will glitter And many a happy bird will twitter. Ferns will be found in every nook, Catkins growing beside the brook, 'Mid snow-drops, tender, white and green Myriads of violets will be seen. Little blades of grass so green just through, Covered over with sparkling dew. Overhead the azure skies of blue Add to this beautiful picture too. How soft feels the early spring breeze As it gently blows through the trees. We all should be so happy and gay For Mother Spring will be here in May. --Nancy jean Malmf eldt, Sophomore

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Twenty-six LULLABY Now the golden ball is sinking, Misty star-blue curtains fall, Baby's eyelids fast are blinking. Answer to a fairy call- Sail out into the cloudy moonrise, Catch at the foamy waves so tall, Laugh with the breezes softly, softly- Innocent love that conquers all. Sail away to the far off shadows, Plunge through the rainbow scarf of the moon, Sing with the rain-sprites softly, softly- Slip back from Dreamland to mother soon. -Mary Plaisted, Sophomore HAPPINESS If only happiness could be grasped And to my breast I could hold it always, tightly clasped. But only a few moments at a time with happiness can be spent, And with those few moments, unwilling, I must be content. -Mary Frances McDonell, Sophomore GYM CLASS That long, graduating line of green- Prisoners before a firing squad of one. Then Piano . . . Left, right, left, right. Square corners! Please, girls, square corners! . . . All so futile and boring- Giving her an unconquerable desire to laugh and talk- To get out of step- To accidentally knock down chairs in passing- To upset the class. Whistle! Wheel inward to left! What's the good? Why wheel? Rebellion! She won't wheel correctly. She'll turn the wrong way-pretend she doesn't know how. Everyone wheels correctly but Sheila. Straightway she is angry. Why is she so perverse? Next time she will wheel properly. Fifteen more minutes. Tumbling! Now she feels more inferior than bored. Self-conscious. She becomes rather afraid. What if, when standing on her head, her neck should suddenly snap! How do the others do it so calmly- Why aren't they afraid they'll break themselves? She is scared. Her turn comes. She tries and fails. She giggles. Gosh, is this nuts! Whistle. Bell. l'All right. You're excusedln -Sheila Sultan, Sophomore