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I also told her that I was a student in my second semester and that it was my ambition to be a poet. "Isn't that sweet?" she exclaimed. "I suppose you write poetry already?" I certainly did. I even had a play in hand which treated of the fate of the troubadour Bernard de Ventadours in rhymeless, irregular verse. "Is there a part for me in it?" she asked. "No," I answered, "but it doesn't matter.
Jane was busy dismantling the dance room the big assembly room in Warburton and no classes were to be called for any work during the morning, so that conditions and students might just slide back into orderliness and thence to the serious work of finishing the last semester.
Miss Skelling will never have any confidence in me again, and will make me recite every bit of grammar for the rest of the semester." "I should think you'd cut," ventured Georgie that being, in her opinion, the most obvious method of escaping an examination. "I can't.
"Well, if any girl can put one over on Court, I'll eat my hat; but it's worth trying, for if Court keeps on like this we'll all be buying prayer-books and singing psalms before another semester." "You'll eat your hat, all right," said Bill Ward, rising in his wrath. "Nelly, my infant, I tell you Gila never fails.
=Traditional method.= In the school where this method is in vogue the examination takes on the color and character of the recitation. At the close of the term, or semester, the teacher makes out the proverbial ten questions which very often reflect her own bias, or predilections, and in these ten questions are the issues of life and death.
"But there's no use talking about it. I've got to be going. We have an eat to-night at Tucker's." Part 2 Jeff came to his new life on the full tide of an enthusiasm that did not begin to ebb till near the close of his first semester. He lived in a new world, one removed a million miles from the sordid one through which he had fought his way so many years.
His health broke, and when '48 came, he was an old man. His hair was white, and he walked the streets with a crutch. But he had saved a little money to send me to Jena. "He was proud of me. I was big-boned and fair, like my mother. And when I came home at the end of a Semester I can see him now, as he would hobble to the door, wearing the red and black and gold of the Burschenschaft.
At lectures he was seldom seen, but more frequently in the theatres, where he used to come in during the middle of the first act, take his station in front of the orchestra box, and eye, through his lorgnette, by turns, the actresses and the ladies of the parquet. Two months passed, and then came the great annual ball which the students give at the opening of the second semester.
When Miss Anglin put a little note of expostulation, so to speak, on the theme about the corridor it was, "This is a course in English, not mathematics, if you please," Berta started her in on the picture gallery. There were enough paintings there to last till the end of the semester. Of course, such work did not require her to read character.
I'm framing a large one for my next show whenever that is." "I'm anxious to see it. I forgot to tell you: after we talked last, I checked out graduate schools and applied to Montpelier. They accepted me for the semester that starts right after Christmas." "Congratulations!" "Yeah, pretty good, huh? Joe Burke, software bum, goes for an MFA. But I'm not sure I should." "Why not?"
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