Merrily We Sleep! Drowsily I enter the class¬room, struggle to my place , and start to snore almost before I hit the seat. Do not be surprised for this is a daily occurance. This is the period when I catch up on tie sleep I lost last night (That is--I would catch up on it if the fellow behind me would stop hitting me on the head at regular intervals with his book.) I watch the professor as he calls the roll, gives his daily "bless¬ing" to the late and absent, and proceeds to collect the materials with which he induces sleep to the already snoring students. I see him stand, open his book(as if he meant business) and begin to tell us about the "good old days" Oh, I admit it was interest¬ing the first week or two, but afterwards it has played the part of tie sandman in my life. It is into such rooms as this that beds instead of desks should be installed. There is nothing I admire more in a teacher than the ability to make his class interesting to his students, especially if he is teaching an unusually dull subject. How often have I yearned for the chance to study a little at tie end of each class, but I have given this up, because I have arrived at the conclusion that it is wasted energy. Some teachers expect a student to study one hour in class and one hour out of class, but since that has been gone over before, I need not say anything about it; however, I can say that a student who spends all his time after school hours in study is a "sucker". In this spare time they should be developing their own individual personalities. Oh, it's alright, if you care to have people say that you have "the personality of a book". When I look at the bright side of the question, i find some of my classes very interesting. This sermon does not apply to those teachers who teach such classes, but rather to the classes which are "sleeping fraternitiesV With spring coming on it will be twice as hard for me to attend school and twice as hard to stay awake once I get here. All I can do is cross my fingers and hope that a miracle will happen and odds are ten to one that it doesn't occur. Ida Rose Langford. My, My, it must be spring Look what We've found My Girl You make my poor heart skip a beat, You are my little grain of wheat; I want you in my arms to hold, You are my little lump of gold. You are my one and only folly, You are my little hot tamale; I love your manners and your voice, And that it why you are my choice. D. L.