University High School - Flickertail Yearbook (Grand Forks, ND)

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THE FIRST DAY OF PRACTICE TEACHING Scene-Terror-stricken individual in the History room ten minutes too early for her first class. Oh, dear! What ever shall I do? How is a person supposed to introduce herself to her class, or, does she introduce herself? Why did I ever ask for a History class, really I can't remember whether Columbus or Drake discovered America or whether---? Oh, gracious me, my mind's so muddy. And twenty-five children! How car I ever manage so many? I'm so glad I wore my new skirt and clean waist, and my hair done up in the latest style. Oh, what would I do if Mr. Kazda came in, and does one say, Be seated class, or class be seated, and ought I to sit down to talk or run around? No! I mean dance around, oh, what do I mean today, I never was so, oh! there goes the bell! Why don't the children come? Am I in the wrong room or can this be a holiday? I just feel in my bones that something is wrong today and see, there goes a class across the hall. And I mustn't let anyone whisper or speak until I call upon him, and I just know they will giggle and pass notes and then, but why doesn't my class come? I'm so faint. Shall I grow pale and thin over my class, and get so haggard that my poor dear family won't know me when I walk in at the wicket gate in summer vacation? But there! there! I just mustn't cry, and where's my chamois? I know my nose is red, and here comes my class at last. Guess that was the dismisal bell before. If only my knees and hands wouldn't shake so much. I do hope I don't look too dressed up. Thank goodness I took pains to look well! Here they are! Good morning, children, no, I mean good evening, oh, what am I saying I meant good afternoon. How many times must I tell you to sit down? No, I knew I'd spoil it and couldn't do it just right. Thank good- ness Mr. Kazda didn't hear that, but here he comes. Well, he who hesitates is lost, so here goes -l--. QCurtainJ . THINKING If you think you are beaten, you are, If you think you dare not, you don't, If you'd like to win, but think you can't It's almost a cinch you won't. If you think you'll lose, you're lost, For out in the world we find Success begins with a fellow's Will, It's all in the state of mind. If you think you're outclassed, you are, You've got to think to rise, You've got to be sure of yourself before You can ever win the prize. Life's battles don't always go, To the stronger or faster man, But sooner or later the man who wins Is the one who thinks he can.

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A FRESI-IMAN'S DIARY i Now that the end of the year draweth nigh, we do recount our expe- riences one by one. Probably the most interesting diary to be found is a Freshman's, so we shall glance across the pages that mark a year of turmoil and work. MONDAY-fthe days are not datedb When I was eating lunch a number of Sophomores and Juniors started to tell me all about the elevator and other peculiarities about Woodworth Hall. I told them they acted like a bunch of Freshmen. It took their wind away and I was able to make a retreat. TUESDAY--The English teacher made me stay after four o'clock to shoot spitballs because I hit a fellow with one. The worst part of it was picking them up later. WEDNESDAY--Miss Colvin told me if I did not settle down to work in Algebra, things would go hard with me. As a result I could eat no lunch that day and I certainly worked thereafter. THURSDAY-I was chased outside today by Mr. Kazda for making noise in the hallway. fThe truth is I saw Mr. Kazda coming out of his office and ran out.J FRIDAY--I went to a basketball game. The gymnasium was crowded but I got in unseen. When I was nicely settled down, along came one of those good for nothing Sophomores and said that he rented this place a year ago. I doubted his integrity but I gave up my place because he was much larger than I. Thus the diary goes on. We picked out a very few incidents to recount to you, so you will not forget the time when you were a humble Freshy. ,li-111 THE 23 PSA LM Miss Colvin is my teacherg I shall not pass. She leadeth me to expose mine ignorance Before the classg she maketh me to work Problems on the board for my grade's sake. She quizzeth me daily and mightlyg yea, Though I study until midnight, I cannot Understand Algebra for the problems Sorely trouble me. She giveth me low Grades, my work runneth under par, Surely, zeros and 70's will follow me All the days of my life, and I shall dwell in The realm of Algebra forever.

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OUR ANNUAL MEMORY BOOK When high school days are far away, And hair once dark is mostly gray, How thoughtfully we read again, These verses written by classmates then. Well we remember with what care, Our schoolmates wrote these poems there' And boldly signed their names below, Those pleasant days, long, long ago. For years this Flickertail memory book, Was lost within an attic nook, Until we glanced its pages o'er, And read these lines of their's once more. We do not know how each may thrive, Or even if they're all alive, Or if perchance, on sea or land, We e'er shall clasp their friendly hand. But just as in those high school days, Once more upon each face we gaze, And in our memory we live again, With friends and scenes so pleasant then. FLICKERTAIL SALES POEM Oh, listen my children, and you shall hear, A short little poem, and don't think it queer, I want this thought in your minds to prevail, Please bring one dollar and get a Flickertail Come, kind young' friends, shake up your wits, And get an Annual for only eight bits. TO VALLELY There was a youth who loved a maid His name was Alexander. He wanted her to marry him, A ring did Alex-hand-er. Y So later they were truly wed, And when the folks the papers read, Referring to the twain they said, Why there goes Alex-and-her.