Newspapers / Albemarle High School Student … / Nov. 27, 1963, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page 2 THE FULL MOON November 27, 1963 c K •] pr Cl Pe ch ch ar “F Ei on Ch of sp th se va Cl Ja tu mi W( se Wi , cc i so; erti pe i L« M . M pr ,'r Be PC C( ' i'l ! m B( T1 N ' El Hi L( m A: C£ Je Fi er re The Full Moon Published Monthly By Mrs. Gamewell's Journalism Class EDITORIAL STAFF Editor Betty Herlocker News Editor Anita Taylor Art Editor Suzanne Webster Photography Editor Jim Sharkey Feature Editors Judy Hesley Edith Johnson Sports Editor Eugene Coley Assistant Sports Editor Jimmy Lowder Business Manager Kay Cornelius Assistant Business Manager Gary Nicholds Typing Editor Karen Hatley Circulation Manager Brown Bivens Page Editors Letitia Stockton, Nancy Butler, Joanne Lisk, Willene Rice Staff Members: Andy Cook, Paul Ellis, Nancy Fatkin, Betty Morton, Kathy Gamewell, Charles Morton, Diane Morton, Cindy Stone, Carlotta Taylor, Frances Vanhoy, Ma rie Williams; Ginny Rogers, Allison Harris, Dane Perry, Teresa Yow, Sandy Kelley, Mark Cook, Buck Snuggs, Charles Lefler, Sam Truette, Carolyn Eury, Marian Cranford Youths View Trials Of Youth “Yes, An' No, An’ Mehbe, An’ Mebbe Not!"—Westcott Responsibility! This is the key word to the discontent of today’s students. But still, why should we be discontented? After all, more gifts are lavished on us than on any generation of the past. Mate rially, we are the most oppulent, the most affluent of any former generation. So why the discontent? The answer, of course, is that the goals set for us by society are rather ambiguous. A few ex amples of this are given below. They are petty when figured in dependently, but try them for significance when figured into the entire scheme of our society . , , Act like a man, but don’t remind us that you are one. ? ? ? Be responsible, but don’t you dare take the privileges that go with responsibility ... ? ? ? Act on your own judgment—we trust it, but it had better meet with our approval . . . ? ? ? It's not the grades that count—it’s learning, but remember, you have to get into a good college, and your marks are very im portant . . . ? ? ? Don’t worry, if you ever make a mistake, we’re here and we’ll help to pick up the pieces and put you on the right track again, but . . . when you make your own mistake, take the consequences like a man . . . ? ? ? Confide in us, but don’t bother us with “trivial” things . . . ? ? ? Be realistic, but don’t remind us of the very real situation of our world today . . . ? ? ? Be perfect, but please don’t look at our imperfection . . . We want your respect, but ignore our hypocrisy . . , ? ? ? We want your love, but don’t let it bother you, if, at times, you don’t recognize ours . . . ? ? ? We know you want security, but what can we do about your apprehensions? ? ? ? -PAUL ELLIS "Striving to Better, Oft We Mar What’s Welt ’—Shakespeare School life for the American student is very tedious and com plicated today. This is because the world appears to expect so much, yet to yield so little. Keen competition between this nation and the Communist na tions, competition between organizations, and competition between individuals have led American society to set a severely rigid standard of success for American youth. This standard—that only perfection or near perfection is good—is born out of ideals and fears, not reality. Very few students today are allowed the luxury of being .self- satisfied. Those who pass judgment on students, those whose privi lege it is to give praise to students, deny the students this luxury. These judges—the whole of adult society—lead students to believe that unless they work as hard as they possibly can or make “A’s” they are not successful. The unreality of this is the implication that perfection is obtainable. As human beings we can’t really do our best. Partial-best is all that is obtainable. In defense of this notion that perfection is a proper goal, it might be said that it creates a .superior nation led by “superior individuals.” But this is a fallacy for it fails to recognize that only happy individuals can be “superior individuals” and that every American who swears allegiance to his country is as important as the greatest scientist in the eyes of the Constitution. It also fails to recognize that discontent with self, the product of “perfect” goals, breeds discontent with God and country, the ideals which superior individuals would serve. -ANDY CCOK Apprecid+ion To Pedagogs During this Thanksgiving season when one’s thoughts turn to the many blessings which he has re ceived, the student of Albemarle Senior High School should express an extra “Thanks” to the teachers who strive to make his high school career as interesting, valuable, and enjoyable as possible. Many teachers not only prepare and present the materials to be studied in a noteworthy manner, they also assume extra responsi bilities to make extra curricular activities available to the students. To the student, this presents the avenue by which he may par ticipate in numerous pleasing ac tivities. To the teacher, however, this means more work and spend ing more time after school, with no extra pay. Advising club ac tivities, working with the annual or newspaper staffs, producing school plays, planning the prom, or attending conventions with school groups are only a few of the ways by which a teacher ex presses his special interest in his students. In recognition of this special in terest, right now is a good time for the Full Moon to express its appreciation and for everyone to make a special effort to personal ly say “Thank You” to his teach ers. 11 The Shoe Fits . . . In the early times in the United States, Halloween was a time of playing harmless pranks, but recently many pranks played on Halloween night have not been harmless. Harmless pranks are enjoyed by both the prankster and the victim of the prank but harmful pranks are destructive and expensive. Evidence of de structive pranks was clearly visible around the schools in our county after this year’s Halloween night. Marring the beauty of structures belonging to the public is one of the most destructive pranks that can be played. Marring build ings not only detracts from their beauty and lowers their value, but sets a bad example for others. Such conduct can get innocent people into trouble and make the community cast disapproving stares on the youth of the community. Race For Life By SAM TRUETTE A human form strolled slowly down the rustic dirt road, stumb ling occasionally over an over turned rock, or a large swell of soil extruding from the irregular surface. He was a man of or dinary bourgeois standing, of average height and weight, but he had one adverse characteris tic, he was black. P'or this small reason he had been persecuted and mocked since he could re member. 'He was made to un derstand, in no uncertain terms, by his white counterparts, that he was inferior to them and that he belonged to a deficient social environment. In rebuttal to these opinions, he and other members of his race had attempted des perately to break the cruel bar rier which dominated them by engaging in demonstrations, free dom marches, and mass religious appeals, but these futile attempts were all in vain. Soon things grew worse for the Negro race. Mobbings of racial demonstrators, burning and bombing of Negro housing district.s—these were just a few of the horrible incidents. Having endured this wave of violence, he departed from that land of hate and despair. The broken figure walked down that crude, remote road, and as he stepped over its brok en plane, it reminded him of the lives of his people—a battle ground of prejudice and resent ment. He walked lonely and begot ten. Where? He didn’t know; maybe he could find a land, a Eutopia which would give equal ity and freedom to its inhabi tants. "A Domestic Dilemma,” which was printed in the last issue of the Full Moon, was written by Tony Almond. Appreciation is ex pressed to Tony for serving as a guest author. Whoa! Something’s missing it seems to me. Christmas is already here I see. The lights are hung, the sales are on. The season for Santa has really won. What happened to the poor tur key we eat? If life is a bus, he’s lost his seat. Already the dreams of yuletide appear. But what of Thanksgiving? Not stylish this year? On Love And Hate By CINDY STONE There is a world of difference in Love and Hate. Love, like i light June breeze, comes gently and gradually and settles inj comfortable comer of a warm heart, while Hate, like a torrent o January air, enters the heart as a dictator and begins at that momei* to completely dominate a person’s character. Love whispers f understanding note of sympathy at the shedding of a tear, whik Hate scorns the softness of any sympathetic utterance. While watt ing. Love learns to tiptoe lightly across a hard wooden floor ai may trip gaily across a field blanketed with daisies, for it wishS not to disturb the pink dream-mist which always caresses a thin! of t^eauty. Love throws back its carefree head and laughs at tW clouds of a sunny May afternoon, and, in time of trouble, raise* its hopeful blue eyes to a flickering star which is never far awal for those who truly seek it. Hate may take the form of a weed, | b'ack morning, a thorn hidden behind the fragrance of a frail yp lew rose, and the rotten side of a shiny, red apple. Hate groi*! a: a disease grows. It first affects the heart, and when it thoroughly invaded the secret chambers of a f>erson’s being, moves to the brain where it takes over the elements of emoti^ and clear thinking. Love is a magic wand. It can turn the mw common being into a king amid a place bathed in emerald sati» It can quench the thirst of a dusty traveler just in from a lo>'! day’s journey. Hate tears at an individual as a cruel DecemW snowstorm does to a shutter on an empty, long-forgotten cottag* Hate wears a black cloak in the midst of a masquerade party ai» holds about it a foggy mist which may be penetrated neither by tW eye nor the heart. Love is the fire which lights up a cold rooit' Hate, the remaining ashes. Love is the sunrise; Hate, the sunset Love is dressed in pink, yellow, and blue; Hate, in black, brow* and grey. Love is understanding; Hate is fear. Love is the Begii* ning; Hate, the End. For Whom The Axe Toils As I stand here in my makeshift prison cell and look at tljl stars above me, I think of my p>ast experiences and how they led my inevitable fate. When I was small, I ate an enormous amount and grew bif ger than the rest of the members of my species. My size brougj a twinkle to my master’s eyes. I was set apart from my frien® and placed in an enclosure by myself. I was given still more eat and grew bigger while my friends were barely given enouf to exist. , The other members of my species voted one night to reW against the master. By certain means, they were able to tell what they planned to do and wanted to know if I would join theij^ The loyalty to my friends seemed, at the moment, more importai' than my well-being, so 1 told them I would help. The appointed day came, the rebellion began, and a few manag^ to get out of their barriers. But it was of no avail. The rebelli® was quickly put down by the master and his sons. Severe measutj were taken with my friends. They were given a still smaller anio^ to eat and many of them starved as a result of this. For soH^ strange reason, no harsh penalties were dealt to me. I was J'*’ placed in my old surroundings with the same amount of food to One day my master came to my “cage” with another man. ^ they st(XKl there, they pointed at me and talked. , “I don’t know,” said my master, “he may be a tough onC' “That’ll be all right,” replied the stranger. They talked, nodded, and pointed at me for what seemed eternity. Finally, the stranger nodded and shook hands with master, indicating that a deal had been made. That’s the la*^ saw of the stranger. I try to keep from thinking about it, but my mind drifts the future and yearns to know the way I will die. Will my neck J twisted and pulled until I die of a broken spine, or will the fall upon my neck and cau.se my head to be parted from n body? I will just have to wait for the approaching tomorrow ^ find out. 1 do know that after I die, I will be disemboweled. body will then be cremated and my burned flesh picked off bones, without any type of decent burial, will be thrown upon ^ refuse heap and will decay there. What a way to die! ... ■ The sun threw a scatter-rug of colors over the surround!" countryside. Somewhere, in the mind of the prisoner, he vagUj remembered today. It’s Thank.sglving! The master approached ^ prison with a broad-bladed axe in hand. Decapitation! Yes, today^ surely a day of doom. Wee Wit And Wisdom Speeding motorists should remember that it’s better to little late down here than too early up there. * « « A journey of one thousand miles begins with one step. « ^ Some of us don’t know what we want, but we feel sure we do" have it. There are two classes trf pedestrians; the quick and the de^ Most of us never get too old to learn a new way of being stuP' ... j We would have no objection to people who eat like sparro'''® they would stop that everlasting chirping about it. An autobiography usually reveals nothing bad about its except his memory. • « « * There are two ways to get to the top of an oak tree: clini^ or sit on an acorn long enough. • * * * The oldest and shortest words, yes and no are those require the most thought. • • « • Life: Just one fool thing after another. Love: Just two fod things after each other. t(' ic> There’s only one thing wrong with modern marriages—the man doesn’t get the bride. • • • • Love is the star men look up to as they walk along, and ^ riage is the orbit they fall into. A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he off more than he can chew. • • • # We are all manufacturers in a way—some making good, tn trouble, or making excuses.
Albemarle High School Student Newspaper
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Nov. 27, 1963, edition 1
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