Newspapers / High Point Junior High … / June 1, 1956, edition 1 / Page 4
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Page Four JUNIOR POINTER Friday, June 1, 1956 1 1 Med icine Mother Judy Leonard When the disease germ finds a victim and confines him to hed, the sweet, loving mother becomes bewitched by a strange power. She becomes a raging dispenser of capsules, asprin, and penicillin pills. After phoning the drug store for more medicine, she begins to feed you soup. It doesn’t matter to her what kind it is, just as long as it is soup. Also she fills you up to the brim with as many liquids as she can find in the house. If you are perfectly satisfied the way you are, she says you would be more comfortable sitting up. When you are hot, she puts more covers on the bed and turns up the heat. After you begin to feel better, she comes in with more medicine and more soup. A sickly color of green creeps into your complexion and the bright hope of a quick recov ery dims. So take my advice and stay well. Don’t give your medicine mother a chance. The life you save may be your own! I Say No Jack Neal Would we have punctuation to day if it were not for a philosopher named Gerola I say no you decide for yourself Gerola was a great Greek phil osopher He wrote many documents and important papers of the time It happened that one night while working hard on a very special document he died suddenly of a brain hemorrhage Later when one the papers was examined there were strange marks and figures all over it there was no apparent ex planation of these strange shapes but the Greeks being highly edu cated people thought the marks to be a new improved way of writ ing. Actually the real reason behind the marks was that Gerola while writing the paper spilled his ink Quickly he picked it up and began to blot the paper only a few stains remained on the paper these small ink blots are known today as our punctuation system the point is that we’re doing extra work only because of Gerola’s carelessness So I say do away with punctuation I already have Classroom Basketball Bill Davis Ka-plunk! A shotgun has just hit another set shot from his seat amidst giggles from the girls and smiles from the boys. In case you are wondering, this refers to boys who are always hitting one-handers or hooks from their nearby seats. Even a short boy (or girl) can dunk the ball, or paper wad, in the waste basket. And he doesn’t have to be a dribble king to get a chance to play. All he has to have is a seat near the waste basket. From that vantage point, the lucky boy can try all kinds of shots and show the room, espe cially the girls, something of his basketball skill. Classroom basketball can be lots of fun provided the teacher likes to play. If she doesn’t, it might not be a bad idea to wait and go out for the basketball team or try a skill where you’re appreci ated. Otherwise you may some day try one of those beautiful hooks or behind-the-back shots and it will come right back with a note be ginning, “Dear Mr. Thayer.” jm (tnjfeii Page of Creative Writing Edited by Mary Womack, Advised by Mrs. Rogers Ethel Aardvark Created by Mary Womack The United States Claude Cline The United States is big and great— From New York City to the Golden Gate. The land is rugged and the land is smooth. But the people who live on it are good and true. There are many cities in the U. S. A. From New York City to Santa Fe. There are many people in this land so fair From the factory worker to the millionaire. Its mountains are majestic Its lakes are blue It’s a land of opportunity for me and for you. Cappy Frank DeSaix In a few moments Cappy, my dog, will be gone. I will probably never see him again. As the big, black and white mongrel sits on the floor of our speeding car, I think back to the good and bad times we have had together. My mind brings back memories of romping and playing through the woods and meadows near our home. It also brings back the grim details of when his right foreleg was broken by a speeding auto. The vetenarian gave him no hope for recovery, but a month later he was running around with the rest of the neighborhood do-gs. But we are there now. Our car pulls up to the gate of the small farm where Cappy is to live the rest of his life. The reason we are giving him up isn’t that he is such a bad dog; it’s that he is so pro tective. Everytime anybody comes around to our apartment, he growls at them thinking they are attempt ing to harm my baby sister Mar- riane. Finally the apartment of ficials said it was he or we. Nat urally it was he. Now he is ready to enter his new home. A tear creeps down my cheek, but I don’t try to brush it away. I give him a last big hug and leave. Hail to Fritos Roger Strickland On these crisp morsels I insist; Who cares if nightmares do persist? Through dreams of monsters having fits? I still will love those golden bits. Don’t take away my fried delight. Sensational in every bite. They may give braces a tough time, But still a Frito gourmet I’m. Awakening Barbara Hemric Heaven and earth are joined to see The coming of the spring; The time when decked will be each tree And robust robins sing. The sun, it dawns upon each day With glowing golden spires And sets in that same lovely way In many awesome fires. And God up in his great domains Looks down with pleasured pride To see the land o’er which he reigns In beauty now abide. Passing Time Mary Womack I walked down an old street, But it tvasn’t an old street For my thoughts were new And my dreams were young. And underneath the old trees. Beside the old houses, My heart sang a song That had not yet been sung. I went into an old house, A house that I visited Once, long ago. On a rainy day, But I saiv it in a new light For the rain was long ago. Memory is short And the past is far away. I tried to play the old games. The games I played yesterday. But Time had locked the door And hidden the key. The old things are new And filled with hope and joy A new door is open And my new soul is free. Larry Kilby Children are always asked the question: “What do you want to he when you grow up?” In these days, however. Junior isn’t interested in becoming a fireman or a policeman. He had rather make some quick money and plenty of it. No, he won’t be another Jesse James. Junior has learned from the Lone Ranger that crime does not pay. Quick Money He’s just going to make a profess ion of being a quiz show contest ant. When this chance finally comes, what subject will he choose? Our Junior must know ahead of time, so he can study and win. He doesn’t want a common ’56 Caddilac or a few measley thousand dollars as a consolation prize. The subject will have to be something unusual. Maybe the stockmarket or classi cal music would do, but they’re be coming common choices. Something like famous Voodoo witch doctors would be more unusual. All of Junior’s time will now be spent in studying for the all-im portant quiz show. He will have to work long and hard to succeed in his profession, for it will require vast knowledge. Success, though, will bring fame and fortune with out manual labor. Baby-Sitting Nowadays Ann Cook In our enlightened age of pro gress and inventions even baby sitting has changed. When correct ing a child, you no longer spank him. You must use psychology. While you are meditating on what tactics to use, he’ll probably be hacking away on the dining room table with his Junior-Do-It-Your- self-Kit. Children are no longer satisfied to spend a quiet evening at hc^e. The TV set must be going full blast. The children sit entranced as the Masked Rider single-handedly cap tures twelve outlaws, stops a run away stage coach, and saves the heroine from drowning. Most children like to be read to before going to sleep. But you wouldn’t think of reading a simple story like “The Three Bears,” “Captain Video versus the Green Men of Mars” would be more ap propriate. Today’s children won’t touch an ordinary bowl of oatmeal. They must have a multi-colored cereal that pops, cracks, snaps, or ex plodes. Also, the box must contain at least one “prize”. This “prize” may be anything from a small bal loon to an atomic-powered sub marine. And, now, what is needed in the way of inventions is a new defi nition of the word sitting. The First Date Sandra Hussey I had wanted him to call me for a long time. Then on Friday night he asked me for a date Saturday night. It was to be my first date. The next morning I was wash ing and rolling my hair at eight o’clock. I felt like waxing the floors, washing the windows, mow ing the lawn and baking a cake. At nine o’clock I began the waxing. I waxed a whole room and looked at the clock. It was 9:16. After waxing all the floors and washing all the windows, I discovered it was just lunch time. Gosh, would that short hand ever get around to seven ? After lunch I wondered if play ing tennis would make the time go any faster. I played until I thought I would keel over. I kept looking at the sky. It was beginning to get dark! I ran home to see the clock. It was three o’clock. The day had only grown cloudy. I thought I’d take a beauty nap, but I couldn’t sleep. Mom called me from town and asked me to go get the groceries. Fine—that would take a lot of time. I sauntered around the super-market for ages and got behind the longest check ing line. When I opened our front door, the coo-coo shot out of the clock and chirped four o’clock. -Smart aleck! I always like to be punctual in my plans, so I begin dressing for my date around 4:30. I tried on everything I had. After I decided on the dress I’d wear, I was put ting a dab of perfume on and spill ed the whole bottle on my dress. I took another bath and went through the deciding process again. At 7:15 I walked down the steps. Mom and Dad were sitting there looking so sympathetic. I sat down and looked at Mom. Mom looked at Dad and Dad looked at me. A ring broke the silence. I shot to the door. There was no one there. I looked at the telephone and slow ly walked over to pick up the re ceiver. He had just broken his foot coming down his front steps.
High Point Junior High School Student Newspaper
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June 1, 1956, edition 1
4
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