Wake Forest University - Howler Yearbook (Winston Salem, NC)

Page 24 text:

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BOSTWICK DORMITORY. . . . The War Year. . . . 1942-43. . . . Army atmos- phere. . . . Reveille and the opening of sleepy eyes. . . . Lining up hefore daybreak. . . . The march to breakfast. . . . Classes and more classes. . . . Mail call. ... A few minutes ' rest. . . . Back to Bostwick. . . . Taps and bed-check. . . . The end of a busy day. Before this year, things were different. . . . Memories of ourselves there. . . . September. . . . Empty rooms suddenly filled with bedclothes, suitcases, footballs, study lamps, books, pictures of best girls. . . . Meeting of roommates. . . . Looks like you and I are goin ' to be together for a year anyway. I ' m lookin ' forward to it. . . . Awkwardness, not knowing what to say. . . . Beginning of school and of classes. . . . The usual routine. . . . Notes and textbooks and papers thrown all over littered desks. . . . Lamps burning into the night. . . . Radios blar- ing. . . . Glenn Miller playing Chattanooga Choo-Choo. . . . Commentators telling about those wicked Japs and Pearl Harbor. . . . Boys dashing from room to room. . . . Boys in bath- robes and towels running downstairs to the showers. . . . Doors opening and slamming shut. . . . How about a little quiet around here? I ' ve got work to do. . . . Boning for mid-term exams. Week ends. . . . Light assignments for a change. . . . Games of cards in almost every room. . . . Petty drawings on the wall. . . . Bull sessions. . . . The latest jokes. . . . Religion, sex, girls, professors. . . . Inquisitiveness. . . . Spirit of learning. . . . Spirit of adventure. . . . Love of fun. . . . Friendship of boy for boy. . . . Background for life. . . . Men growing up in a man ' s world. .

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WE RETURNED TO SCHOOL ! Arrival in Wake Forest: Freshman Jack Isley pushes luggage toward new home. Emharkation on a college career: Freshman Isley walks through arch to greet the new life that awaits him. J iARLY in September every year, the sleepy little town of Wake Forest is roused from its August nap by the sounds of Negro boys cart- ing trunks up the road, car doors slamming, boys yelling from windows Hey, Dad. bring up my tennis racket, and mothers shouting anxiously back from automobiles Be a good boy and don ' t forget to write. The people of the town know what all the excitement means, for they have seen it happen year in and year out. It is another freshman class beginning its four years at Wake Forest. The first few weeks of school belong to thi freshman class. The sophomores and the juniors and the seniors have held their places in the limelight in vears past; now it is another class ' s turn. Either the freshmen take full advantage of it from the start, or they soon find themselves forced to bv superior upperclassmen. They go through the procedures of registration and