Soph’s Registration The great and eventful day of my simple life has arrived. [| picked up the paper one night early in September and noticed the following, “Registration Day Announced.” In large black letters at the top the message was portrayed that Seniors would register September 19, and Juniors September 20. In small light print at the bottom it said, “Sophomores register September 21.” When the day arrived the neighbors were duly called in to supervise my apparel. Mrs. Down, was positive that a green turbin would be becoming, while Mrs. Up asserted the appropriateness of a blue and red blouse, Aunt Jane insisted upon khaki knickers and quarter-length maroon hose. Mrs. Pimplebalm bravely upheld a Scotch skirt with high-tops. Thus attired I set out with a purple parasol and striped lunch kit. As | approached the front door of the school, | came into contact with many other poor unfortunates. As we were about to enter we were confronted by the gleam of the searching eyes of Lowell Barker. | knew darn well he wasnt a Sophomore and so backed by the determined mob we proudly approached him and asked his mission. He very tartly replied that he had been appointed by Mr. Wahlquist to take the Sophomore’s hats off and show them which way the door opened. In our majestic haste we forgot our hats and were informed by a floppant young flapper, who turned out to be an English teacher, that it was a custom for Adam’s namesake to remove their headgear when under a roof. At the top of the third flight of stairs we accosted a whole tribe of the upper classes. When we finally reached the assembly hall the janitor was cleaning it. He told us the registration had been completed an hour ago. As we were about to leave, three To the future Sophs we give this fatherly advice. “Be ed because Submissive,’ as tough as we were. Lowell day Barker when Caesar he was ambitious, he We was lived thru writing asked was Rudy kill- but he wasn’t it. a letter one to a how spell certain word. “Why don’t you buy a dictionary?” asked Rudy. “What would I do with a dictionary? If I can’t spell the words | couldn’t find them, and if I can spell them I don’t need a dictionary.” Mr. Swenson—“How much time did you put on this shorthand?” Fae Rose—“Oh, about half an hour, railroad time.” Mr. railroad Swenson—“What do you mean by time.” Fae Rose—“Including all stops and delays.” Vernal (in English class)—“Do you say ‘Stas ane or tds 1?” Mr. Hancock—“Always remember the rhyme: ‘It is I’, said the spider to the ny Vernal—‘“I see—but couldn’t you say, ‘It is me’, said the spider to the flea?” Mr. Peterson (in angry tones) :—“Who told you to put that paper on the wall?” Decorator—“Your wife, sir.” Mr. Peterson—“Pretty, isn’t it?” small men were ushered in. They had black mustaches and small handbags labeled M. D. They knocked on our heads, tested our pulse, tickled our backbone and turned to the faculty with the verdict of “Water on the Brain.” “Paul, worldr” cant you tell us the shape of the asked the teacher encouragingly. “Yessum; it’s in a pretty bad shape just now,” replied Paul who had heard his father say a few things at home. Page One Hundred Twenty-seven