The duty of a class historian is not alone that of telling facts, but that of entertaining as well. The common every-day occurrences must be made heroic, defeat must be turned into victory and his class placed higher than any class that has passed on before.
Happy then, am I in many ways, for we have had no defeats to cover with a curtain of misrepresentation, and we are confident that our class, through the work of the individual members has gained a place worthy of honor in the history of our school.
To those who have known us during our sojourn at High School we need not be introduced; neither do they have to be told of our wonderful career for they have seen for themselves. But rather, let the following sentences be directed to those who know us not, that they may hear and be wise.
Far back in the ages past, one bright morning in September ushered into being the most wonderful class that has passed through Wheeling High School. Our class, the class of nineteen eleven.
At first we were a host of small girls and boys having the appearance of knowing nothing, and I fear, the teachers looked forward to a hard task in "bringing us up in the way we should go." But after going through many trials and tribulations they at last succeeded in making us what we are now.
Ah! Well we remember how proud we were when we spoken to as "Miss" or "Mister," when called to recite, but too soon we realized that "pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," and our pride suffered a most disastrous fall, when upon not knowing our lesson, the harsh tones of the master echoed down through the aisles, "Down with you, up with the next." This happened when we were only Freshmen.
This was not to last always and we reached the exalted station, as we thought, of the Sophomore. How we "lorded it" over the poor, unlucky Freshmen, but hadn't we been treated in that way and hadn't we the right to do it? We were Sophomores. By this time, too, our boys were no longer little boys and some of them had made the team. The school no longer thought of an unsuccessful season in football, for our class of Nineteen Eleven had come to uphold the "Old Gold and Blue," and we gained the confidence of the whole school, even as Sophomores.
Soon our second year passed and we at last realized that we really were Juniors. We now belonged to the illustrious body known as "upper classmen." This year, our Junior year, might almost be called our year of wonders. In this year we moved into our new High School building, gave our wonderful masquerade party, the first of its kind to be given by High School students and secured the highest number of points at the field meet, thereby gaining the honor of having our numerals placed on the banner by the side of our sister class naught nine. Then to complete a most glorious year we of the class of Nineteen Eleven entertained the Senior class. Of course they were surprised for no class before, or since, ever attempted to overcome the proverbial hatred that has always existed between the two upper classes. But on that night we met, not as classes, under separate colors, but as a school, united under the old Gold and Blue.
And now, how can I ever tell of our last year - our Senior year at Wheeling High? Oh, how we have been respected by the faculty, honored by the Juniors, reverenced by the Sophomores and - yes, even worshipped by the Freshmen. But let it suffice to say they have sufficient reason.
As Seniors we have never been equaled, nor are we likely to be for many years to come. We started in determined to make our mark, not selfishly, but for the glory of our class and our school. Of course our year was not all hard work, but neither was our work neglected for our pleasure. Will any of forget our Hallowe'en party? I feel sure that in years to come when we drift apart, as we surely will do, that the thoughts of our class will live on in our minds forever, and we shall live over the times we had as members of the class of Nineteen Eleven.
As the winter drew on and we tired of giving the same kind of parties, we gave a sleigh ride. This also was a success, but as usual the Juniors tried to break it up and as usual, they failed.
In the short space of time that is allotted to me it is impossible to comment on each individual of our class, but as a class and as individuals, we have made our mark. And now, as we pass, we feel that our short stay at High School has not been in vain; that not alone have we been benefited by it, but also that we have been a credit to our school. We entered, we passed through and now are about to be graduated. So far we resemble all classes but as individuals there is a marked difference. It's the quality.
Every class claims the distinction of "greatness," but our claim is based on facts. We are not conceited or "puffed up," but only proud that we have accomplished that which we desired.
Class of Nineteen Eleven, my work as your historian is ended. Future histories, if there be such, will be not of a class but of individuals. But so far our history is commendable. Our final farewells will soon be spoken and we as a class shall pass on. But we cannot help but feel that the future will offer many golden opportunities for our class, the class of Nineteen Eleven