Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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and the girls are all cryin’. Gee! the teacher really looks mad now. Hurrah! she says we can all go home, but Red. I was out first this time but I went to the window by her desk and guess what I saw? The teacher lickin’ Red. I guess she forgot all about learning about child sicology ’ at the state university. —Barbara Bidwell ’45 A FRESHMAN’S SCHOOL DAY Well, there goes the bell. I pick up Latin for Americans” and look around for Mrs. Rowe and Mr. King. They have to decide where Mr. King is going before we can go to Latin class. At last they have made up their minds. We go into study hall and everyone groans—class in study hall. Mrs. Rowe says, Well Lucille, all alone again?” Bill is out delivering that precious bottled liquid. Five, ten, or fifteen minutes after school has begun Bill finally arrives and does his share correcting my trans- lation. We struggle through the last ten minutes of the period, then at the bell dash to our seats to drag forth, First Year Algebra”. Then, still in study hall, Mrs. Gib- son attempts to pound the knowledge of equations, factor- ing, base, power, and all such confusing terms, into our heads. Once more the bell and at last two beautiful study halls. Miss Tipping stalks in and says, Study hall has be- gun, we’ll have everyone in separate seats.” Pandemo- nium reigns until we are settled and eventually become en- grossed in studies. Why! there goes the bell again. Now I look around for the commercial arithmetic class to come in so I can hear the latest jokes and settle down to another study hall. Before I know it the bell peals again. I pick up Ad- ventures in Reading” and start off for my daily adventure. The English 9 class goes quickly with the class read- ing aloud. Mrs. Rowe says, Lucille”, and I come back to earth with a start to find that Ivanhoe has returned. Well, that class must be nearly over because my stomach feels empty. At last the bell rings and a mad dash is made for 15

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I got out the door second. (Red was always first), I thought it was going to be last one to the big tree was it” for Pump, Pump, Pull Away”, but Red didn’t go to the tree; he went to the window near the teacher’s desk. I followed him and looked in too. Boy, was that teacher actin’ funny. She kept jumping up as if she was going to get up out of her seat but never got off. Finally she made it but there was a tear in the back of her dress like I made in my Sunday pants the time I jumped over the Mallette’s fence. Her face was red and she looked pretty mad. Red did too and then I knowed what for ’cause he said, Dang it all, guess I didn’t put enough glue on ’cause it said on the bottle 'guaranteed to stick’.” After awhile Miss Johnson called us in and we had to do some arithmetic. Well, we got through that and start- ed in on English. We had to write a poem, so I wrote this one: We have a new teacher, just for today, I don t blame the old one for staying away. Going to school’s an awful bother, Pop said I’d never be a scholar. Henry Aldrich” and That Brewetsr Boy” Seem to have a lot of joy. People laugh at all their fun, Why can’t they laugh when I am dumb? While I’ve been writing this poem the teacher’s been talking with Red. She asked him about the gl ue and he said he done it ’cause he knowed she wouldn’t give him no lickin’. She said she’d see him after school and he ain’t talked back so I guess he wants to see what she’ll do. Teacher ain’t turned around since recess. She ain’t even written the best poem on the board like she said she would. Guess she couldn’t fix her dress like Maw fixed my pants. (The tear don’t hardly show.) Miss Johnson is goin’ to open the top drawer for the book our reg’lar teacher is reading us. I’m getting kinda excited ’cause Red looks funny again. Oh boy! the teacher’s standin’ on her desk and her dress ain’t fixed as good as my pants are. The mouse just ran down the aisle 14

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the hall where I get shoved around more than I would at a nylon sale. Neon hour is over and we are now in Room S where Mrs. Gibson is trying to put the values of a good citizen into us. At last the bell and I’m almost at the door when Mrs. Gibson says, You’re not excused.” Finally we’re really dismissed and troop into the study hall. I spend most of the afterncon at Mrs. Gibson’s desk with an Algebra problem. But at last the bell rings and another day is over. —Lucille Judd ’48 USING ONE’S HEAD Scene—English room. Mid-year Exams—A question on Mrs. Rowe’s exam, Write a composition on the topic, 'Literature and Life’.” Chief character—Doris Sawyer (who has neglected to read the assignment on this topic), to herself: Well. I’ve got to use my head and write something. Here goes:” Literature and Life Once, thousands of years ago when men lived in caves and ate their raw meat, there lived a woman named Mrs. Apeman. Every day she polished the stone troughs and shovelled the dirt out of the cave and killed fresh meat for her husband’s supper. Her husband was a good man. Every day he went off in the woods to work, hunting for food and clothing or building furniture out of logs. Every night when he came home he would grab his wife by the hair and drag her out of the cave to watch the sunset. One night as the sun was setting, their daughter came running through the woods. Little Literature was a beautiful ape girl. Her arms were wonderfully long from swinging through the trees, and her teeth were long and sharp. Behind her came the neighbor’s son, Life. They both ran up to the Apeman, and Life throatily requested the hand of Literature in marriage. 16