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TUESDAY, JANUARY 29, 1952
Lookit Dal Angle!
By Kermit Slob
Come awn, fellers, an git in thuh
baindwaggin. Grab yo gal an let’s
awl hed owt tuh thur mucho big
Sweahart Danct in thuh awdy
toirum come Satidy nite, Febru
ary 16.
Theay tel me hit’s gonna be a
jijantik affare, what with that
faincy arrkestry pervidin’ row
rantik musik, an thim gals awl
dahlled up lak goin tuh a fowth
Sundy sangin in July.
They say hit’s gonna be mity
nigh big as at laist danct whin
thim high-falutin, sassy sohphy
moores wuz in charge of akticiti
es. (I dawn’t thank at laist werd
were misspelled kerrectly). Any
hownh, hit’s been bilt upp as a
treemindis evine uv ire skule yeer.
(U know, I dun got me a perty
liddle old gal ats gonna go wim
me. Diden haf tuh kail butt three
dormetorries an therty-sevin gals
tuh getter ether. Emproovin ovuh
mah laast dait. An law, I jist kaint
wate tuh sea it, I mean her, a
standin’ aire in at pail munelite
a lookin lak a angle strait outna
heven. Gifs me chilly boomps jist
tuh invishun hit.
Big Undertaking
Ensidentalli, I dun seene mi
favorite undertaker an he pruh
missed tuh get me thuh pretiest
rozes fer a forsarge u evir seene.
Korpse—l mean, Korse, they wil
be secont hannd, butt whutss thuh
difference? Shucks, mah gal gonna
be dresst upp ; an I dawn’t mean
maibee).
Bak tuh thiss heer danct. U no,
ah heerd uh gal say other daye
thatt she nevir hadd no dait to
hit. Now ain’t that a derty shaim.
Y, thare’s moore uv uss ellybigull
batchilers runnin roun’ than kats
at a fish market. An, ferthirmoore,
’at gal sad there wuz wheir she
come frum, a lott of ’em dawn’t
hav no daitts.
U know, my footbawl koach had
that saim trubull whin he had
a big banqwitt fer uss onct. Us
dumb plaiers dident no thuh dif
frunce tween a dait an a kireprak
ter, and ferthirmore dident keer.
Weed herd of ’em, and wuz skeerd.
But he takin an comfitted uss
with sum praktibull add vise. He
sed that jist kawse u daited a
liddle ole gal ain’t no sine u gotta
marri upp wither, and he ferthir
sed wee mite evin injoy hit. He giv
uss a prety bigg pepp tawlk about
hit, and when he finishet us. brai
vune takin and ast fer a dait. An
u now hit ternd hout tuh be a
sempull prahsess, and we hadda
rite faire thyme.
Ah jist thot Ide paiss this yere
enfermachun awn tuh u boise tuh
lett u braivuns no that thare wuz
sum ahvaleabull gals runnin’ roun’
that wahnta go tuh thiss hepp
bigg thrownup, and that’d look
mity intranncin a standing aire
in at pail munelit.
So come awn, fellers, and git
in thuh baindwaggin.
A sloppy kiss makes a girl wish
for the days of knighthood when a
man would duel, and drool, over
her.
Carrollton
Drug Company
Thomas R. Luck, Owner
WE APPRECIATE
YOUR BUSINESS
PHONE 1180
Tomorrow Is
Another Day
(THANKGOODNESS)
By Evelyn Rudd
It was January 2, 1952 at 10:30
p. m. I was excited and far from
being sleepy because the next day
was to be my first of many at
Oak Mountain school. Everyone in
the dormitory discovered that I
was to rise and shine at 6:00 a. m.
and they decided that I should
wake them the moment I arose.
The next morning my alarm
clock (Amelia Hitt) sounded right
on the dot of 6:00. I was out of
bed like a flash to rush to what
was to be my morning duty. The
first room I entered I whisper
ed “Betty.” No answer. Then a
little louder “Betty” . . . Still no
answer. Upon losing my pati
ence (which is something a school
teacher never does) I screamed
“BETTY!”
I heard a slight movement and
heard someone whisper softly
“Huh?” “It’s 6:00 and time to get
up” I said cheerfully. “6:00, Ugh!”
I heard a sound as if someone had
collapsed into deep sleep. After
much contemplating I decided to
“let ’em sleep.”
At 6:30 I was eating breakfast
with my alarm clock (Amelia, that
is) and at 7:00 I was on my way
to Oak Mountain. It was still dark
when we arrived there and child
ren were everywhere. Fortunately
one of them had built a fire and
this helped to melt my cold, cold
heart! If you have ever been to
Oak Mountain you’ll know that it
is snow capped the year around.
When I first entered the children
looked at me as if I were some
freak strayed from a circus (I
know what you’re thinking!) I
tried to smile, but after a few
tries I gave up that approach and
decided to watch Mr. Johnson’s
technique.
Our first class was A. S. which
means Arithmetic at Sunrise. I
was to work with the fourth and
fifth grades. Ah yes, what an in
spiring sight to see all those little
figures working hard so early in
the morning.
The first little boy to ask me
a question said, “Miss Rugg, what
are you going to do out here?”
How was I going to answer him
when I didn’t know myself? Miss
Downs always said that if you
didn’t know the answer to a ques
tion to find out the answer. I
finally persuaded him to wait un
til the end of the quarter and ask
me again.
The next question came from a
little girl who asked what was
meant by 9/10. After elaborating
on that subject for thirty minutes,
I asked her to explain to me what
9?10 was and her answer was plain
and simple “almost all.”
At 10:00 we had play time and
all the children crowded around
me to ask questions. “Miss Rudy,
how old are you?” “Mrs. Rubb,
who is your boyfriend?” “Where
do you live, Miss Rutledge? They
called me everything except
“Ruby.”
I finally got across to them that
my name was Miss Rudd R-U-D-D.
They tried to talk me out of it
but firmness was the answer to
my problem.
At the second playtime, from
1:00 ’till 2:00, some of the girls
wanted me to go walking with
them. I did. Five miles of it in
one hour.
When school was out that day I
was practically a nervous wreck.
When I got home I walked into
my room, crawled over the table, |
THE WEST GEORGIAN
"Sand Hill" Is Byword
For Education Majors
“Sand Hill”—that seems to be
the byword for those many edu
cation majors at West Georgia Col
lege, Those students who think
teaching is the thing for them,
have a chance at Sand Hill to be
part of a school by observing and
practice teaching.
Individual experiences are many
and varied in a day at Sand Hill!
There are posters to make, hurt
feelings to mend, lessons to teach,
and many things to be shared with
the children. It’s a time that is
never forgotten by those who have
spent a quarter or two there.
West Georgia, which is noted for
its work in the field of educa
tion, sends both practice teachers
and interns to Sand Hill. The
practice teachers spend the morn
ings getting acquainted with the
school and return to the campus
for afternoon classes; the interns
stay all day and do more actual
teaching. Both classes are under
the direction of Mr. Quinton
Prince, Principal, and a supervis
ing teacher. This quarter Betty
Jaynes, Eugene Gladin, Ralph
Maxwell and Quinton Miles are
practice teachers; Mae Shipp and
Wilson Freeman are internes.
An Intellectual
By Janette Witcher
I think that I shall never see,
Another student good as me.
I study so hard ’n learn some too,
Why, there’s really not much that
I can’t do,
I know I study least an hour a
week,
But can’t imagine why my grades
look bleak.
At biology I’m really a whiz,
Gee, wonder why I failed that
quiz?
That Algebra problem would have
been right,
If only I hadn’t gone to the movies
last night.
You should see my girl, she’s
got class,
But if it weren’t for me she would
never pass.
I love my teacher’s ’n tell you
what I’ll do,
’N if it works you can try it too.
I’m going to walk right up ’n then
I’ll say,
“Dear Mr. Petersen, now, starting
today,
If you will only give me a pass,
I’ll stay awake all quarter in your
class.”
I’m a good student as you can
see,
So why don’t you pattern after
me?
(didn’t have the strength to go
around) and collapsed into bed.'
So ended my first day at Oak
Mountain.
In the little time I have put
there I feel that I am doing some
thing worthwhile and something
which I can tell my grandchild
ren, (If I live through it).
Today is January 17, 1952 and
I’m glad I can say I am having an
Oak Mountain experience.
It is 11:00 p. m. arid my alarm
clock is still set for 6:00 in the
morning. The only thing I dread
tomorow is trying to get Betty up
but tomorrow is another day and
we teachers must have our sleep!
* * y jj
■“ ■ yjul pw
AYCOCK HALL
Shades of Storms
By Herbert Cook
In the late evening of Friday,
January 4, 1952 Aycock Hall was
struck with what was seemingly
an attack of stormitis. Mrs. Bur
ges was awaken in the wee hours
by a shaking and shattering and
breaking that resembled an earth
quake, truly not quite as bad as
storms but a reasonable facsimile
thereof.
Our house detective crew went
into action imediately to detect
the cause of this disturbance. Up
on a careful investigation the
trouble was traced to a room right
above the bed room of our belov
ed hostess. It seems the occupants
of this fair abode along with a few
other tenants whose names are
not available for release at this
time were having a quite game of
ring around the roses.
Our senses immediately told us
that there was no cause for alarm
as this building was so construct
ed that the accoustics in it are a
little off key (be that as it may).
All joking aside though, I be
lieve that most of the boys are
very pleased with the new dorm,
and all appreciate the kindness
and patience Mrs. Burgess has
shown in getting the men adjusted
to their new surroundings.
Where Is the Meat
Coming From??
By Jean Jackson
On the first day of school this
year President Ingram informed
us, as a dog walked into the gym,
that dogs were not allowed, sup
posedly on the campus. He told
us also of a dog that students as
well as he had become attached
to. When the dog was “accidently”
killed, everyone on the campus
felt it. (Maybe through their
stomachs!)
During fall quarter, it wasn’t
unusual to see a line of dogs fol
lowing someone around the cam
pus, especially dining hall work
ers. Of all the dogs on the campus,
I know everyone became familiar
with little “Sausage,” Amelia be
ing his best friend. It was quite a
joke at the dining hall if you had
to wait on the meat that some
PAGE THREE
“bright” one yelled, “They’ve gone
after ‘Sausage’.”
Listen and look around you this
quarter. Do you see any dogs on
the campus? I didn’t think you
had. Doesn’t it seem strange that
every dog that stays too long on
the campus, especially those who
follow you to the dining hall are
accidently killed or mysteriously
disappear? Where could they go?
How about it when you see a dog
on campus—have a heart-to-heart
talk with him Tell him not to stay
too long or go near the dining hall
’cause, “He might accidentally get
put in the soup, boy!”
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Railroad Crossing
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