DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs

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Page 33

UNFOLDING YEARS 33
them understand, they might have been wise enough to help me. Evidently I did not show what torture I was enduring and came through with a fair performance. And so I continued to suffer in silence--and only I knew how much better I might have done if I had not had to concentrate all my strength on just going through with it. Perhaps I deserved some credit for persevering and making as good a showing as I did under these circumstances. 
At school we had our little romances, our boy friends with whom we spent the time at parties and Saturday night intermission. I had several of these but the one I liked best was Frank Motz, a member of my class. He was a rare character, no great scholar, but a real genius in music. Every one liked Frank and we spent many happy hours together. Three short years after leaving school he died, but I still treasure his memory and count it a privilege to have known intimately such a rare, sweet soul.
I trust that I have no given the impression that I was always a model student. The solemn, grave faced little girl who entered school soon became a very natural fun-loving child. While I never did anything startling, still I was in on several doubtful undertakings. I recall several stolen trips to the cellar for raw turnips and apples--and didn't they taste good! During my first year I received five black marks or demerits for talking after the silence bell. These appeared on my quarterly report. My parents were shocked but my father consoled me by saying that if I never did anything worse he would be satisfied. I was never guilty of stolen trysts with the boys which I felt was going just a little too far, but I had no compunctions against talking to them when an opportunity came my way. It always seemed as if whenever I did go astray I was found out, and if in a crowd I was singled out as the guilty one. 
One morning we went to our first class and our teacher, Mr. Tannehill, who lived down town, failed to show up. Naturally the girls and boys began talking. Some of the girls were over on the boy's side. Two boys were over by my seat showing me a very beautiful watch, a gift to one of them from his father.

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UNFOLDING YEARS 33 them understand, they might have been wise enough to help me. Evidently I did not show what torture I was enduring and came through with a fair performance. And so I continued to suffer in silence--and only I knew how much better I might have done if I had not had to concentrate all my strength on just going through with it. Perhaps I deserved some credit for persevering and making as good a showing as I did under these circumstances. At school we had our little romances, our boy friends with whom we spent the time at parties and Saturday night intermission. I had several of these but the one I liked best was Frank Motz, a member of my class. He was a rare character, no great scholar, but a real genius in music. Every one liked Frank and we spent many happy hours together. Three short years after leaving school he died, but I still treasure his memory and count it a privilege to have known intimately such a rare, sweet soul. I trust that I have no given the impression that I was always a model student. The solemn, grave faced little girl who entered school soon became a very natural fun-loving child. While I never did anything startling, still I was in on several doubtful undertakings. I recall several stolen trips to the cellar for raw turnips and apples--and didn't they taste good! During my first year I received five black marks or demerits for talking after the silence bell. These appeared on my quarterly report. My parents were shocked but my father consoled me by saying that if I never did anything worse he would be satisfied. I was never guilty of stolen trysts with the boys which I felt was going just a little too far, but I had no compunctions against talking to them when an opportunity came my way. It always seemed as if whenever I did go astray I was found out, and if in a crowd I was singled out as the guilty one. One morning we went to our first class and our teacher, Mr. Tannehill, who lived down town, failed to show up. Naturally the girls and boys began talking. Some of the girls were over on the boy's side. Two boys were over by my seat showing me a very beautiful watch, a gift to one of them from his father.