Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE HIGH SCHOOL QUIVER first time and in such a moving way, gave me comfort and courage and when I came out from the music hall 1 felt as one transformed. The first impression could not be better: the High School had begun its way toward my heart! The first lesson 1 attended was about “The History of the United States.” I could understand very little or nothing at all, but as the class-room, the pupils, the teacher were new to me, I gave all my 'ttcntion to them and, naturally, with the present scene, another one Jar away then, but yet vivid as ever, came to my mind, and I looked at both. How different they were! and yet each one had its charms lor me! The democratic conditions under which pupils of all social classes are welcomed by the high schools had already been a subject of wonder to me; and later I was gladly surprised by the spirit of equality and liberalism that, I noticed, animated teachers and pupils. If I had not known I should have guessed that I was in an American school; and this spirit was heartily welcomed by the tranger who, in her own country, had often been designated as “the independent head” and had been several times put out of the class for too much enthusiasm during the lessons about the French Revolution. Another thing arousing my admiration was the interest in the pupils shown by the teachers, who, even after school, kindly devote to them their patience and their time. Such privileges are not the lot of my old companions and had never been mine! As for the discipline and order of the pupils, considering that the rules are less severe than ours and comparing their conduct with ours, in answer to a question of my old companions, I could not help saying: “Building fires are the order of the day, but these students’ heads are not so easily enkindled as ours were and as yours are still.” And now that 1 am speaking of fire, I remember not only my impressions but a funny incident caused by the fire-drill in school. It was my third day in class, and I had just begun my study period in the hall when I was at once attracted by an unusual movement. I looked around, the pupils had all arisen and were running downstairs. I had been lost in thought and could not understand what was happening. “What can it ber The end of the period? It is impossible, unless I have been dreaming loo long and have let the time pass without noticing it. But no, a glance at the clock reassured me of this. “What can it be then and in less time than it takes to tell it, a host of ideas filled my mind and, what would have been, in other circumstances, a source of pleasure to my venturous spirit, served then only to shock it and to impress upon me that I was but a stranger. But, meantime, I had lemained alone and, losing no more time, I ran after the pupils,

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4 THE HIGH SCHOOL QUIVER you deceived me! I knew that the Principal and the teachers were Americans, but 1 had never been acquainted with these before and, owing perhaps to the idea that Latins have of English people, when f had been told that we were going to see the Principal and the teachers, my fancy had depicted them to me as perfect gentlemen and ladies, of course, but as impassible as statues, as cold as ice; and my heart had shivered. Oh, my terrible fancy, how happily you deceived me! and what a big sigh of relief I gave after the kind and amiable manners, first of the Principal and then of the teachers, made me convinced that I would never regret the kindness of my former teachers! Yes, the remembrance of the beautiful days spent in my dear college in Rome would sometimes fill my soul with deep longings for home, I would in some moments of difficulty and discouragement seek a refuge in the recollection of the past; but, dear old teachers, never, never was I to regret your kindness! Being so reassured, I came away for that day, and with a lighter heart I found the way shorter, my beautiful sun brighter, and the bells and the birds and all around the High School said to me: “Come again! Come again!” And I came the following Monday. Oh, how long, and how brief, were for me the three days of expectation! They passed at last, as every thing does, and on a fine morning 1 took my books and courageously set out toward the High School. My new life was to begin and my heart, my poor heart, could not keep still. It beat, beat hard! and my fancy was galloping. But I was resolved to be brave and, led by the ideal that, like a star, was shining on my horizon, I went to the High School as boldly as a soldier to the battlefield. But poor countries, if their soldiers should do as I did! for, as soon as I entered the High School and heard the English language that I could hardly understand, the cold reality of my situation, the vision of the future unknown and full of difficulties came as a dark mist to hide my bright star from me, and I felt myself alone and a stranger, while my courage was on the point of failing. Happily, I had arrived at the time of the morning exercises and these deeply moved my heart, filling it with sympathy for my new school, with energy to walk forward in the path I was beginning to run over. When they began their usual morning prayer, although it was in English, it appeared not so to me ; and, ceasing to be a stranger, my heart joined those of my new companions to rise with them to our common Father in Heaven, while I thanked Him for being the same everywhere: I was sure He understood me! Then followed the song and the music, always so powerful to my soul, and those new voices that I knew for the

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() THE HIGH SCHOOL QUIVER reached the last two, and in my halting English, asked them what the matter was. The expression of my face must have been very funny, since it made them laugh while they answered me; probably they said that it was the fire drill, but all that I could understand was “fire.” Then, frightened and scandalized at the placid indifference of my informers, I hastened back to my room, for I remembered that my desk was full of books which did not belong to me and I wanted to save them. I was excitedly looking for them when I saw the pupils coming back in order and perfectly calm. I remembered now that in running downstairs they were in order too, and I considered “order” a little out of place in a case of fire. In my school, at least, the scene would be quite different. So, I let my arms fall; I could not understand it! I was so shocked that instead of asking the French teacher about it. I preferred to keep my trouble and followed the others to the study hall again. But, if you think I could study! No, no; my mind was wholly occupied by the preceding scene, I needed to know, and to find out by myself, so, after, thinking and thinking and thinking, at last I believed that I had found a solution; and yet I rather feared to relate it! At home I was confirmed in what I had nearly guessed and was laughed at for a long time! So I had occasion to learn well about fire-drills in school, and, in spite of my funny incident, I could not help admiring such wise measures whose benefit can hardly be overestimated. In my own country, owing to the material of which buildings are made, fires are as rare as white flies, and there I had never heard of fire drills. Many things, every thing in my new school has been to me an object of interest and reflection, a means of instruction, and so varied and so many impressions have I received that a whole volume would hardly be sufficient to express them all, and as I would. My conclusion, however, is this: in spite of the difficulties which sometimes made my new student life a true battle-field, or perhaps on account of these difficulties, the High School has won the best part of my affections. When it did not disdain to welcome me among its children, I was just as a poor flower pulled away from its own soil and transplanted to a strange one; but little by little, in the shadow of this sanctuary of thought and under the beneficial warmth of kindness, it has bloomed again, full of gratitude! I have realized what one of my former teachers said to me when I left him ; I have learned to be “a citizen of the world.” Yes, the day is gone, the year is almost over, and will soon vanish into the mystery of all things, but its memories will join my dearest ones, and with them will survive in my heart full of freshness and beauty. —FELICETTA LEONI.