High School Yearbook Research Articles

Workshop to Office: Two Generations of Italian Women in New York City, 1900-1950

In turn-of-the-century New York, Italian immigrant daughters spent their youth in factories while their mothers did irregular wage labor as well as domestic work at home. By the I940s, Italian-American girls were in school, socializing and preparing for white-collar jobs that would not begin until they were eighteen. Drawing on a range of sources from censuses to high school yearbooks, Miriam Cohen examines shifting patterns in the family roles, work lives, and schooling of two generations of Italian-American women. Paying particular attention to the importance of these women's pragmatic daily choices, she documents how major social and political changes helped create new opportunities and constraints for the second generation. While financial need was a powerful factor in determining the behavior of the first generation women, Cohen shows, they and their daughters succeeded in adapting family survival strategies to new work patterns. Once the second generation was married, their careers mirrored those of the first in many ways: they raised children, cared for the home, and took on paid employment when necessary. Unlike their mothers, however, these Italian-American wives could also participate in the growing consumerism surrounding home and childcare. Throughout, Cohen compares the changing Italian-American experience with that of Jewish women, discovering significant similarities in these experiences by 1950. As well as presenting a nuanced portrait of one group of ethnic working-class women, Workshop to Office demonstrates the impact of political developments on individual lives. It will spark lively debates among students and scholars of social history, immigration history, labor history, women's history, and the history of education in the United States.

A historical comparison of parental involvement of three generations of Japanese Americans (Isseis, Niseis, Sanseis) in the education of their children

A study was done that compared the parental involvement of three generations of Japanese Americans in their children's education, particularly their involvement in academic work and extracurricular activities and perceived barriers to involvement. First generation Japanese American immigrants are called Isseis in Japanese; second generation, first American-born, Japanese Americans are called Niseis; and the third generation Japanese Americans are called The project used a case study oral history approach on 69 Japanese Americans in Hawaii who ranged in age from 29 to 81 years. There were 10 Isseis, 49 Niseis, and 10 Sanseis. Other sources of data included historical documents such as high school yearbooks, school newspapers, and student handbooks. The data were analyzed using a multiple comparative analysis. The results show that ensuing generations of Japanese Americans became more active and directly involved in the education of their children. This evolutional development was highly related to language communication and familiarity with the dominant culture. The Americanization of Japanese immigrants along with succeeding generations who were educated in American schools reflect the role that American parents play in the education of their children. For the immigrant generation, several social, economical, and cultural difficulties acted as barriers to parental participation. with the exception of time and economics, succeeding generations were not hampered by the same barriers as was the immigrant generation. Included are 11 references. (JB) An Historical Comparison of Parental involvement of Three Generations of Japanese Americans (issels, Nisei% and Sense is) In the Education of their Children Alan R. Shoho University of Portland PERMISSION TO REPRODUCE THiS MATER I. HAS BEEN GRANTED BY TO THE EDUCATIONAL. RESOURCES INFORMATION CENTER fERIC) U S DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATiON Office ot ECucriSrorve ReSearch anc Improvement E nucATioNAI SOURC ES INF OR MA 1 'ON CENTE R ifRiet Tt,s timetI has been reproth,c a$ 4*.< eevpij from the pe,snrt orpanuaton 0.,grnE0,417 P Molo, crninge5 have boef, rnatie,, ,mv,ove 'ePrOPpollon cluetav 6 PO,r 5 Pt v,ev,5 cr, IPIOns5Inter!,, menf rni r,eCe5..5.0f revreser.T otf,t,a, F RI posrt,cn or prthcy. RUNNING HEAD: Parental Involvement of Japanese Amelicans Shoho, A.R. (1992, April). An Historical Comparison of Parental Involvement of Three Generatkms of nese Americans (Weis, Msels, Sansels) In the Education of their Children. Paper presented at 1992 annual meeting of the American Educationalli eatvh Association, San Francisco.

Nettie Lee Benson, Librarian

The Sinton (Texas) High School yearbook for 1922 described Nettie Lee Benson as A very wise and studious lass Who answers all questions of her class. Reading, studying, and books were important to the seventeen-year-old senior, and it was a love that never left her. In fact, Nettie Lee Benson, the librarian, accomplished something few persons achieve-the development of a world-class library. In her writings and her conversations, Nettie Lee Benson attributed her success to everyone who donated even one book or gave her information on how to find it! Yet Nettie Lee Benson herself provided the enthusiasm and the passion to search, despite many frustrations and little money, for materials for the library under her care during a span of almost thirty-four years. After earning a bachelor's degree at the University of Texas in 1929, Nettie Lee Benson returned to her home to teach at the nearby Ingleside High School where she stayed for eleven years. In 1941 she began graduate study at the University of Texas at Austin, taking a part-time position the following year at the Latin American Collection. And there she worked until her official retirement in 1975, a retirement that relieved her of everyday administrative duties but not of her concern and passion for finding research materials for the library! Although her development of the library which bears her name is generally well recognized, Nettie Lee Benson's life and other accomplishments as a librarian are not at all known to persons outside the library field. Her activities as a librarian-pioneering new sources and introducing innovative methodology for the acquisition of research materials from Latin America-are in fact every bit as illustrious as her work as a historian.

Outside In: Minorities and the Transformation of American Education.

Ever since the massive immigration from Europe of the late 19th century, American society has accommodated people of many cultures, religions, languages, and expectations. The task of integration has increasingly fallen to the schools, where children are taught a common language and a set of democratic values and sent on their ways to become productive members of society. How American schools have set about educating these diverse students, and how these students' needs have altered the face of education, are issues central to the social history of the United States in the 20th century. In her pathbreaking new book Paula S. Fass presents a wide ranging examination of the role of in the creation of modern education. Through a series of in-depth and fascinating case studies, she demonstrates how issues of pluralism have shaped the educational landscape and how various minority groups have been affected by their educational experiences. Fass first looks at how public schools absorbed the children of immigrants in the early years of the century and how those children gradually began to use the schools for their own social purposes. She then turns to the experiences of other groups of Americans whose struggles for educational and social opportunities have defined cultural life over the last fifty years: blacks, whose education became a major concern of the federal government in the 1930s and 1940s; women, who had access to higher education but were denied commensurate job opportunities; and Catholics, who created schools that succeeded both in protecting minority integrity and in providing Catholics with a path to American success. Along the way, she presents a wealth of fascinating and surprising detail. Through an examination of New York City high school yearbooks from the 1930s and 1940s, she shows how a student's ethnic identity determined which activities he or she would engage in and how ethnicity was etched into schooling. And she examines how the New Deal and the army in World War II succeeded in educating large numbers of blacks and making the inequalities in their educational opportunities a critical national concern. A sweeping and highly original history of American education, Outside In helps us to understand how schools have been shaped by their students, how educational issues have merged with wider social concerns, and how outsiders have recreated schooling and culture in the 20th century. By opening up new historical terrain and rejecting a vision of outsiders as merely victims of American educational policy, the book has important implications for contemporary social and educational issues.

Have You Seen This Man?

To amuse myself, I recently spent a couple of evenings speculating about the physical appearance of the invisible Mr. Pynchon. Now, I know it's not hip, or perhaps even polite, to want to know what he looks like. But on this occasion, I didn't let that stop me. In the spirit of a parlor game, I made some sketches. They start with his high school yearbook photo and proceed at roughly ten-year intervals. They are pure speculation, of course, but if you meet such a man lingering around the P shelf at your local Waldenbooks, you might want to ask him a couple of leading questions.

Fortysomething: Recognizing faces at one’s 25th reunion

Twenty-four to 26 years after their high school graduation, subjects matched 40 photographs of former classmates taken from the high school yearbook with 40 current photographs of these same former classmates. Compared with age-matched control subjects who had no prior familiarity with the persons depicted in the photographs, the former classmates were superior at matching the old and new photographs. Generally, same-orientation photographs (i.e., old and new photographs taken from the same side) were matched more accurately than different-orientation photographs. Prior familiarity, however, rendered the orientation factor unimportant. These findings are discussed in terms of the processes that underlie facial recognition over very long intervals and in terms of their psycholegal implications.

Thomas Pynchon: a bibliography of primary and secondary materials

Thomas Pynchon has received an unparalleled amount of criticism in the twenty-five years since the publication of his first novel: two dozen books, dozens of chapters in other books, hundreds of articles, even his own journal. No other novelist has generated as much criticism in as short a time, making Clifford Mead's bibliography a welcome and indispensable guide. Section one catalogues Pynchon's own writings--books, magazine contributions, reprints, translations, and piracies--while section two offers an exhaustive listing of virtually everything that had been written on Pynchon by 1989. Two special sections enhance the value of this book: one reprints Pynchon's dozen or so endorsements written for other books--most inaccessible or out-of-print--while the other reprints Pynchon's hitherto unknown contributions to his high school newspaper. The book is illustrated throughout with photographs of dust jacket covers (including a trial cover for Gravity's Rainbow), rare ephemera, and pictures of the young Pynchon from his high school yearbook.

The Impact of Girls' Interscholastic Sport Participation on Academic Orientation

Abstract This study was designed to assess the influence of athletics and other extracurricular activities on the academic orientation of female high school students. Senior girls were categorized into groups—labeled athlete-only (comprising students who participated only in athletics as an extracurricular activity), service-only (students who participated in service activities only), athlete-service (students participating in both) and neither (students whose extracurricular activities included neither athletics nor service activities). Categorizations were based on listings from their high school yearbooks. Those taking the ACT college entrance exam (N = 487) were compared on composite and English scores to the other groups, and to national and state averages. Analyses of covariance, controlling for SES and extent of activity involvement revealed that the athlete-only group recorded the lowest average scores, but these could not be attributed to the participation category to which they belonged. Rather,...

Childhood social adjustment, adolescent status, and young adult mental health.

A sample of 2453 grade school children were followed through record sources into young adulthood. Data on peer status and social class were collected, and a subset was subsequently located in high school yearbooks. Those with mental health treatment during young adulthood were determined. Significant relationships were found between peer status and high school activity, and young adult adjustment, with low peer status children having two to three times greater risk for mental health treatment contact in young adulthood.

Food and water can be withheld from dying patients: the very different situations of Claire Conroy and Karen Quinlan.

Abstract Claire Conroy and Karen Quinlan will be forever linked by the dubious distinction of having their medical care the subject of a landmark decision from the New Jersey Supreme Court. Quinlan is well known, her high-school yearbook picture a symbol of the perplexing problems occasioned by modem medicine's power to rescue from death some who can never be aware of life. In the New Jersey Supreme Court's decision (1), Karen Quinlan's right to privacy (more accurately, her right t o determine what treatments she would receive), was held to outweigh the public's interest in the preservation of each human life. The authority to determine what Karen Quinlan would have wanted was granted to her father, and he was explicitly authorized to have her respirator discontinued once her prognosis of permanent unconsciousness was confirmed by a “hospital ethics committee”, even though her physician felt that this might well precipitate her death. The court's decision was the first time that a state's highest court acknowledged that some forms of life-sustaining medical treatment are not, from the patient's own perspective, beneficial or necessary.

Ken Macrorie: A Review Essay

Engfish. Freewriting. Fabulous realities. I-Search. The Third Way. These are Ken Macrorie's legacy to students and teachers of composition. Like all words, they have a history. They generate debate, testing and revising our assumptions about teaching. Sometimes people also misuse them, quoting them out of context and changing their meanings. Yet, the publication of Searching Writing: A Contextbook (Rochelle Park, N.J.: Hayden, 1980), his sixth and most recent book, invites us to examine his meanings, his definitions, and to reflect on the kind of teaching Macrorie encourages. Ken Macrorie has spent some forty years trying to understand the power of the language. Although his first book, The Perceptive Writer, Reader, and Speaker (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1959), appeared just as the 1960s began changing people's views of American education, Macrorie's love for language and respect for those who use it well predate the 1960s by more than twenty years. To regard Macrorie's 60s English as an anachronism, too intense and too personal for today's practically minded, job-oriented students, is to misunderstand his work and its importance. We can learn much from a man whose writings reveal forty years' experience as a perceptive student, a vulnerable teacher, and a truthteller. Macrorie, born in 1918 in Moline, Illinois, tells us in his books that his mother was a librarian and his father, who loved to recite Shakespeare, worked for a farm-implement company. Macrorie grew up with parents who, although they had not attended college, liked books. For editing his high-school yearbook and earning the second-highest grades of any boy in his class, he received a two-year scholarship to attend Oberlin College. There he almost lost the scholarship when his grades slipped to a C+ average. He endured awesome one-hour voices lecturing from platforms two feet high, and he moved through the streets and buildings of Oberlin largely unperceiving, stunned by foreignness (A Vulnerable Teacher [Rochelle Park, N.J.: Hayden, 1974], p. 2). Although he tried to be a

Gender displays in portrait photographs

Following the research of Goffman (1976) and Henley (1977) on sex differences in nonverbal behavior, 1,296 portrait photographs from high school and university yearbooks and from the media files of a university were analyzed for sex differences. Females smiled with a significantly greater frequency and expansiveness than males and head canted significantly more than males. Results supporting the hypothesis that males would face the camera more directly than females failed to reach the acceptable significance level. The prediction that persons working in opposite-sex roles would deintensify their gender displays failed to gain support.

The smart man's burden

We have heard much talk lately about America's newest oppressed minority-the gifted and talented. Dealing with this recently discovered pocket of privilege has become the hottest field in education today. Colleges are gearing up to train teachers to work with the gifted, programs are being started in almost all schools, consultants have been hired to minister to their needs, and the usual screening tests and educational materials are flooding the market place. Now let us talk common sense about the gifted and talented. These kids we all remember from school were brilliant in class-seemingly without the effort that most of us needed to devote to studies. In our view, school was easy for them. Often such precocious children spoke three languages, played several musical instruments, starred in the school play, edited the student newspaper, won the state science fair, led the student council, and were featured on 122 pages of the high school yearbook. It would have been hard to see that they needed special attention. Later, these same kids had Harvard calling their counselors on the phone, found themselves declared National Merit Scholars, and went off to become lawyers, doctors, and executives of Fortune 500 companies. In our eternal ignorance, we thought that such people had it made. The rest of us went off to work or to state colleges and vocational schools, sometimes even wishing we had been born gifted and/or talented. We consoled ourselves with the thought that we would value our own accomplishments more because we had to work harder than did the whiz kids. Little did we know that we had it made, not the gifted and talented. Only now do we get the opportunity to make it up to them by providing special educational programs to compensate for their blighted status. How can we account for the recent upsurge of attention the problem of being gifted? We know from history that Americans have always lived uncomfortably with the concept of elites, be they based on Divine Right, wealth, or even brains. We have believed in the American Dream, which means that an individual can go as far as talent and ambition permit. We also have believed that nobody ought to receive special treatment unless that treatment aims at making the competition for success more fair. This commitment to fairness and equality of opportunity always has acted as a restraint on the urge to treat the gifted as an elite. It explains, too, our willingness to poke fun at eggheads and to portray geniuses as bumbling fools dressed in white socks and Einstein sweatshirts. More recently, however, some elements of the public and the educational community have grown critical of rapidly increasing expenditures of funds used to assist the economically disadvantaged and the handicapped. Some degree of resentment has appeared concerning the amount of attention paid to improving the quality of educational services for those on the bottom while little or nothing was done for the exceptionally talented and gifted individuals at the top. To add to the confusion, many educators supporting the concept of mainstreaming the handicapped have advocated removing the gifted from regular classrooms so that they might receive special education.

The Path to the Double Helix by Robert Olby (review)

The Path to the Double Helix. By Robert Olby. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974. Pp. 534. $23.50. "The Hindsight Saga"—the excellent name reportedly chosen by S. J. Perelman for his autobiography—could also serve as the title of this book; for here a peevish Rhadamanthus calls the dead and the living, one after the other, before his cloudy throne and judges them severely, more for what they have not done than for what they have. All this from the happy perspective of full and final glory achieved, paid for, and delivered. In the triumphant glow of the Holy Grail, as it were, the hapless Knights of the Round Table are given hell for not having found the noble cup. It so happens that this particular Holy Grail was discovered by two knights riding one horse; but of the two Parsifals only one appears to have commissioned or otherwise blessed the book: the foreword is signed by Francis Crick. This has always been the predicament of the historian: he knows how it all ended. But does he really? In trying to describe a distant ocean is he himself not being tossed by an enormous wave? If it is notoriously difficult for the historian to account plausibly for the motives of the actions of his subjects, it is completely impossible to explain what has not happened. The psychohistory of failures is only written if they pay for the treatment—and then not for publication. History with a happy end is always in danger of becoming a fairy tale; and this is especially true of one of its most precarious subspecialties, the history of science, where there never is an end. Just as all great artists are the greatest —only the art dealer or his alter ego, the art historian, will deny this—all good scientists are the best, auction prices or Nobel prizes notwithstanding. The others simply do not count. Classification by rank, distinction of major and minor, have always impressed me as silly, particularly in science where the final goal will invariable elude us, almost by definition. This is not the only reason it is so difficult to write science history. All hangs together in this cosmos constructed by so many minds; but the single writer, entirely unequipped to distinguish among truth, plausiblity, and fad, must take much too much for granted. No sifting of the printed evidence can revive the scientific atmosphere of a given period which, in addition, may not represent what went on in individual minds; no selection of pithy statements, pleasing though the arrangement may be, is really indicative of what was known, and to whom, at any given time. Rather than follow, laboriously, the growth of a concept or of a construct—a difficult and meager task—the writer is tempted to deck out his account with as many anecdotes as he can get hold of. Since most scientists are unmemorable people, anecdotes about them are by necessity equally unmemorable; and this makes most histories of recent scientific events read like high school yearbooks. Having said this, 1 may now proceed faintly to praise Olby's book. He has worked hard on it, reading innumerable and often very dull, papers, traveling to many unrewarding places, burrowing and borrowing his way through achives of private correspondence, interviewing both the proud and the sorry remnants of a soi-disant historical epoch (even me, though he omits my name from the list on p. x). In other words, he has tried to produce as good a book as he could. That it still is not a very good book is presumably not so much his fault as that of the decision to write so big a book under the narrow perspective indicated in its title. Perspectives in Biology and Medicine · Winter 1976 I 289 This is not the history of the sources and the development of our concepts of the chemistry and physics of heredity. If this were the case, we should not have 12 pages on Avery and at least 150 on Crick and Watson. We should hear more of so important a laboratory as that ofTodd and his collaborators in Cambridge; and the name...

Violence and the Art of Storytelling

city, I photograph a teenage girl on top of a battered car. For twenty-five cents, she is handed a pickax and ten opportunities to smash holes in the car. Her peers cheer from the sidelines. There is no object, no prize to be won-only the sheer joy of destruction, perhaps, and the venting of frustration and rage. a two and one half hour drive east from here, a quiet, considerate, Regents scholarship winner, holes himself up in his school's top floor and shoots fourteen people, three of them to death. In New York City, but not here in Olean, protest the disbelieving townspeople. Today, the front page headlines of the local Post-Standard sprawl in their black, detached way: Body of Woman Found in Ditch: Stabbing Cause of Death. To the right of the headlines is Terry Cornell's graduation picture, taken from her high school yearbook. The whole account is a cool, detached piece of reportage, with canned phrases like partly clad body, and practicalities like lab tests to be made and time of death to be ascertained. Cool, canned, and practical-as gets to be the approach when the same violent story takes place so daily. But the story is not so daily for me because five years ago I taught Terry Cornell. Others will have their own particular bouquets; this article from her former teacher is subtitled, Flowers for Terry. There is every indication that more bloodshed is in the offing, that violence is the new obscenity, that violent movies and violent television and violent adult books and violent adults do indeed make violent kids. Violence links with power, change, sports, art, religion, and some very nice people, as well. We try to cope, try to understand the obscenity, legislate and crusade against it, mentally boycott it, bring it all out into the open and discuss it in classrooms. one classroom, students work on a mini-course called, Ireneology, that is, the study of peace. the gym next to where they study, cheerleaders scream, Beat, smash, kill, wipe out that team. What are we to do? you ask. My modest proposal-turn off the TV, movies, top ten radio stations, cassette recorders, overhead and slide projectors and, with a short story in hand, try projecting the human voice instead. Return, in

Is the High School Yearbook in a Critical Era?

Why have yearbook sales slumped in recent years? Several possible answers are explored here. The author suggests ways and gives examples of how the yearbook can be made more germane to its buyers, the students.

High school yearbooks: further explication and reply to Meehl.

High school yearbooks: further explication and reply to Meehl.

High school yearbooks: A reply to Schwarz.

High school yearbooks: A reply to Schwarz.

Comment on "high school yearbooks: a nonreactive measure of social isolation in graduates who later became schizophrenic".

Comment on "high school yearbooks: a nonreactive measure of social isolation in graduates who later became schizophrenic".

High school yearbooks: A nonreactive measure of social isolation in graduates who later became schizophrenic.

High school yearbooks: A nonreactive measure of social isolation in graduates who later became schizophrenic.