Stoneham High School - Wildlife Yearbook (Stoneham, MA)

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC library with one last, longing glance at Aunt Katherine’s portrait. “Perhaps,” Jane murmered to herself. half aloud, “I wonder if---perhaps, some day.” E. G. L. ’25 of locution (With Apologies to Miss S.) Dong! The study hour was over. Yeda was the first of the two girls in Study IV to slam down her books with a sigh. The next hour was a free one. “Done, Cynthia? Then come, let’s walk over to the lake. It’s too fine a day to waste inside.” Cynthia was willing, but she hesita- ted. “Yeda, aren’t you in Elocution II?” “Oh yes,” smiled Yeda, readily, and shouldn’t I be plugging away on my original and required essay, to be memorized and recited just twm weeks from today! Come downstairs and I’ll tell you how w ' onderfully I’ve progress- ed on it.” Out on the green campus, Yeda an- nounced triumphantly, “I’ve chosen my subject.” Cynthia was sympathetically glad. She had not chosen Elocution II, but she felt vicariously the sufferings of those in that enterprising class. Know- ing that the other contestants had their essays well under w ay, she feared for Yeda’s, yet unbegun. “The title of mine’s going to be, “Labor Conditions in the Shoe Indus- try, or some such w ' ording.” “That’ll be good.” “It’s a subject I know something about, anyway.” Yeda made a secret of the three years she had spent work- ing in a shoe shop, preparatory to her present college years. “You haven’t got any further than the title?” Cynthia asked dubiously. “Oh, you joy-killer! Isn’t that the most of it? But, seriously. I’ll wmrk hard after today. The two hundred dollar prize w ' ould make a little differ- ence to me.” “You’ve got to try whether you w ' ant the two hundred dollars or not,” (’yn- thia interposed, “as long as you’re in Elocution II.” A week before the fateful night, as the annual Elocution Night was called, found an excited group in Y ' ed’s room. The young lady, herself, held a disord- erly sheaf of half-scribbled paper in her hand. When she had “felt in tJie mood”, she had dashed off a paragraph of her speech, thrusting it aside anoth- er day to begin on a fresh l it cf paper. “Oh, Yeda, you ought to try, you’d win the prize!” You’ll fail in the course if you don’t have it memorized, too.” “What w ' ill Professor Leek say?” Yeda sat down resolutely at her desk. “I hereby announce my intention of getting to work — if you’ll only go and let me have peace.” “We depart, since you so graciously bid us good-night.” Left with Cynthia, Yeda seriously glared at her desk. She was good at spontaneous writing and talk, but tills task of constructing and memor ' zing a well balanced oration did not at all appeal to her. She sorted her papers, forceful little paragraphs, with here and there an outstanding sentence. Copying these, she formed an introduc- tory paragraph. How sleepy she was! The lights-out bell brought relief. She would think it all out in the morning. Thus delaying and evading, Yed:i faced Elocution Night with only the secure knowledge of how she iatonded to begin her talk, and also of the clos- ing paragraph. “I can think of some- thing to say in between,” she careless- ly remarked. But underneath her in- difference she was worried. That eventful night, as she listened to her own opening words, her real con- victions forced themselves upon her and because her subject was int-msely a part of her, she talked eager i.v and convincingly. But why was Cynthia looking so worried? It must be almost time to stop. Yeda talked adroitly to introduce her closing paragraph, and finished in a burst of enthusiasm, just within the time limit. There w;is lo applause as she stepped down, for ;t was forbidden until the end of the ev- ening, but Cynthia whispered with ra- diant face: “You’ve done it ,Yeda!’’ And the judges confirmed Cynthia’s verdict. L. E., ’25. 15

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC I had been captured by a member of the Merrie Woodsmen outlaw band, and that as soon as a council sat my release would be granted me, but I must re- main in the camp through the night. A bed was made me of husks, ■;’;e which of I found was a privilege the other women wanted to lack. I scarce closed mine eyes during the territde night, although I w ' as promised no harm. At dawn, sorely tried by my unac- custunied bed, the likeness of her that had looked to my wants the night be- fore, roused me and informed me that I was wanted to be seen by the coun- sellor. Timidly I went before him and he drew from me a treaty of silence as to my adventure, saying if I revest- ed the haunts or the workings of his I band I should be in danger of my IH’- ing. Then blowing upon a conch shell the forerunners of the band rallied to conduct me to the clearing, from whence I could easily guide myself home to Berkley Castle. Just before leaving, the Counsellor handed me a sealed oil packet bound j with a linen thread. I was to open ) this when I reached the clearing. I accepted it more from fear than from willingness, forsoothe I fain would have cast it into the stream which ran but a few paces from our very feet. With no more ceremony I was .lis- missed from the Counsellor’s presence and began my way home. The men made much sport among themselves with their bottles and paid little heed to me in their midst, for the which 1 was very thankful. Finally we reached the clearing and ever as soon as we arrived thei’e, wilh nary a word the outlaws wheeled about on their steeds and were gone within a twiiiKling. There I opened the packet and with- in on a wax tablet, dug out with a sty- lus, was a note from the Counsello -, himself, stating that as long as I woL e the signet, seal ring, which was within the packet, wherever I chanced to be, I need never fear, for inside the ring was an instrument, vhen blown to its full size, (which was thrice its compa-t form) and when rubbed with the seal on the ring, would sound the call of the band. This signal was quite un- known to anyone not a member of the klan. After giving the call it w ould be but an instant before aid would come in answer to the summons. Quickly I slipped the ring on my forefinger and betook myself to my father’s castle, which by this time I knew would be in arms searching me I out. 1 But, dear Jane, thou must know the ; rest of the tale and behold! mine hours ' are now few here, and thou hast not told to me yet the ways of thy life, lit- I tie girl. I prithee tell me if or not thou be happy. “Oh-oh, Aunt Katherine, I am ex- ceedingly happy. This has indeed been ! a wonderful thing. To think I should I be the one to meet you tonight, it is I truly more than I can believe!” i “Ah, precious, did I not see in thine : hand the signet seal, the which of I spoke to thee?” “Truly, Aunt, you did.” “Well, dear, only those who possess I that ring can I talk with. I neve r used I the magic call, and for aught I know ! it is still in the ring. But let me look at the treasure, for I darest not have the touch of it on mine hand, for veri- I ly, evil would be my fortune if ever ! again I felt it. Eemember, my dear little girl, the magic charm is locked within and perchance thou dost meet ill fortune, the mysterious potent will bear thee aid.” I ' hen there followed the story of Jane’s few years, with the revelation of the marvellous inventions produced by the world’s tide of progress, when, hark ! The little French clock on the man- tlepieee is fairly galloping away in its haste to be the first to warn of the da 3 ' - light hour. The steadj’’ tick, tock, tick, tock of the grandfather timepiece tells majestically ' that the charmed hour is coming to an end. “Boom,” from the grandfather clock, “Boom.” Goodbve, dear new fashioned little girl.” “Goodbye, dear Aunt Katherine, I shall always remember you and what ’0U have told me. Some day, perhaps my portrait will hang beside ymurs. “Boom!” “And I do hope we shall meet again-” “Boom !” With a soft rustle of her silken gown, the old-fashioned lady mounted the portable library steps and entered the golden frame. “Boom ! !” The fifth hour sounded and all was silent. Jane blew a kiss toward the beautiful, smiling face in the enchanted frame, then turned slowly and left the 14

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC Oloacli nnb ' 2TI]e cliaol By R. S. Morrill, Stoneham High School Published in the School Review, Chicago, Illinois, May 1924 A generation ago, the athletic coach, as he is today, was almost unknown a- mong the smaller schools. One of the men teachers or the principal went to games with the boys, perhaps attended practice occasionally, and helped to pre- serve order and uiiitj in the teams, but with that his responsibility ceased. The boys organized, conducted, and control- led their extra-curricular activities. Educational authorities now recognize the fact that sports have a tremendous bearing on the development of youth and that athletics should be used to give impetus to school aims and endeavors, and, in order to obtain the development of character, physique, and personality in the highest degree, they are putting in charge of athletics highly specialized teachers called coaches or teachers of athletics. These athletic instructors may be di- vided roughly into tw ' o classes, namely, members of the faculty who are engaged to teach classes and coach sports and meji who are hired primarily and solely to coach the teams. Men of the former class are proving themselves indispens- able to modern school life. Men of the latter class are frequently found to bo dangerous liabilities Avhen allowed to assume control of school athletics. In order to maintain a true personal perspective with regard to he funda- mental aims of the school, it is necessa- ry for the coach to be a teacher. It is noticeable that every teacher tends to overemphasize his own subject. The teacher of history year after year in- creases the demands which he makes on his students and enlarges his conception of the place that history should occupy in the curriculum. The teachers of mathematics beAvail the lack of prep- aration on the part of the students who come to them and demand more time in which to increase their accomplish- ments. Likewise, if a man teaches ex- clusively, he magnifies their importance until, unless checked, the school be- comes an institution for the training of modern gladiators rather than modern citizens. Coaching must be considered as merely a part of a teacher’s duty if the coach is to maintain the proper bal- ance beween athletics and instruction. The coach should be a teacher in or- der to have that understanding of the problems of the school which will en- lable him properly to correlate his ac- ! tivities with what the school is trying to j do. Such problems may be purely ed- jucatioiial; that is, they may involve the I preparation of athletes for college, classroom requirements, school disci- pline, the financing of athletics, or ideals which the school is trying to establish ; or they may involve the en- tire community and be political or soc- ial. A coach who fails to adjust his coaching so as to assist the school in attaining its highest ideals fails to give athletics the place v.’hich they should occupy in school life, even though he may win every game sched- uled. Such adjustment can come only from a coach who thoroughly under- stand s the school and who is in sym- pathy with the school officials through daily contact with them. The problem of the school may be the implanting of American ideals in the minds of the children of immi- grants, newly landed, with all of the Old World selfishness and poverty and class distinction imbedded and reflected in their offspring. In the case of such children, the American admiration of the athlete develops a most unhealthy egotism unless continually combatted. 16