Upsala College - Upsalite Yearbook (East Orange, NJ)

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eworking doggedly Eight o,clock classes are a pain in the neck. They mean getting up at six for most com- muters. We, having no car, are forced to take the bus, two buses in fact. We'have successfully gulped our break- fast, and just caught the trolley bus. Having found a seat we get down to the serious busi- ness of scanning our history notes. tDocis going to call on us, you knowJ But for some reason or other our minds turn towards spring and the first robin we saw the day before yesterday. From birds to music is but a little jump, and we begin to whistle softly. Nothing bothers us today. However, by the time we have arrived at that conclusion, it is time to switch vehicles. There,s still a chilly breeze sweeping the corner on which we wait for the WAmpereW bus. A wait of seven minutes, and a dime clinks into the register. The driver remarks that we look sleepy. We don,t argue about Twel m that. Some of our freshmen are fellow passen- gers and are worrying about a religion quiz. We smile indulgently. Then we suddenly re- call that Nisi, might spring an Ed. test on us. Oh well. In the back of the bus several Panzer stu- dents speak disdainfully of the Panzer- Upsala basketball tilt. We discolor slightly and vow that weill murder them next No- vember on the gridiron. Corner of Springdale and Prospect, uAll Upsalans Out,,! Still a bit weary we trudge down the street toward Old Main where an unpleasant surprise awaits us. On the bulletin board is that yellow multi- plication table with the telling tale, Deanis List. Well, might just as well wait until after class to learn the fatal news. But we do feel sorry for the drawn, haggard features of those who made the first team. Resolutions

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egreen pastures running general errands for the upperclass women. To the Freshman also falls the hated job of Shop Duty? Every night some one of them must sit and wait in the recep- tion room so that they may announce any visitors. Even to a freshman the Dorm life is vital and they wouldn,t give it up for the world. Further down the campus, looking out upon Springdale Avenue is Norse Hall, the stronghold of the sturdy males. Here too, continous sound effects can be discerned. And if you think the girls are particular about their rooms just take a peek into one of the boys. There, besides banners and photographs, you Will see prints, colored and otherwise of paintings, ships, airplanes and often original drawings. Some of the boys take pride in quaint regalia gathered on initiation missions. When you see the lights on at 2 A.M., you know that the gang is hashing over the Euro- pean problem. Anything can happen in the Boys dorm and has been known to happen too. It,s not surprising to come back to your room only to flnd it absolutely empty. No desk, no books, no rug, and finally not even a bed to lie upon and try to figure out just Where your fellow dorm pals have so generously replaced your furnishings. Soon some kind fellow informs you that your room can be found upon the roof, complete in every de- tail. Bill Anderson, as President of Norse Hall, tries valiantly to preserve some semblance of order but that is not often an easy job. As Spring rolls around the lawns are the favorite lounging place. Even the signs put up by the Student Council donit seem to stop this. MR. ANDERSON, President-obviously posed Eleven

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infest the air; but the nextis Dean,s list wonTt be any shorter, we fear. Too much going on to find time for cramming. The Dean,s office now is a bedlam of nervous voices, hands and imploring glances. Dean himself is serious but kind, firm, yet sympa- thetic. And not one leaves his precinct With- out a glimmer of hope in his eyes. After the ordeal With the Dean is over we need the relaxation of the cafeteria. This is where from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.eeds and coeds can be found leaning back on chairs, munch- ing, andelo and behold!-sometimes study- ing. No place on the campus is so typically collegiate as 322? In corner one, Lennie Larson is reading his history assignment. A blaring sound comes from corner two, inhabited by several Taus hugging the radio. From corner three emanates the Godh chorus With uDon,t send my boy to Princeton? tNo aspersionsq That stops all the other corners, for music hath charm. Mrs. Johnson, proprietor and pie-handler, counts her money in rhythm with the songs. Several professors assemble and discuss the foreign situation. The songsters disrespect- fully shout on, the profs don,t mind. Hand- ekeep your fingers crossed some waiters tin feminine apronsy Wipe the tables and swipe the plates before the last piece of bread is swallowed. And so it goes. Always in a hurry, stu- dents forever rushing hnd welcome relaxa- tion in the cafe? ewhat? n0 coffee! Thirteen