Womanless Summer School A Thing of the Distant Past

"Shake not thy hoary locks at me," was formerly the attitude of the College male stranded in a desert of secondary school spinsters for summer study. Revisions in this view, begun last summer by some daring local observers, should continue in force if early reports of female summer attendance can be credited.

True, the prewar species of pedagogical prude will insure peace of mind to local citizenry often uneasy at the prospect of women residing in the Yard. Even the introduction of a physical culture course for school marms can scarcely be expected to make Sargent girls out of secondary school teachers.

Nutrition

At any rate the emphasis, explains the course brochure, will be on the nutritional aspects.

Forecasting curves, as far as the Economics Department is concerned, has always been a hazardous, inaccurate business. These prescient folk predicted a cyclical upswing a week before the '29 crash.

But results on the female front correlate better, however, with expectations, and for this summer the empirical evidences of last suggests a change in the old familiar female faces.

For the first time a course in secretarial training, and another in publishing procedures, was tried within the confines of Radcliffe. The 100-odd girls enrolled in these subjects were uniformly disillusioned in the Harvard male, but this year they will get a chance to observe the wretch at close range.

Joint instruction backfires, to wit, as Harvard boys who want to take in type-writing will be allowed to enroll.

Whether an intimate glimpse of local masculinity will alter last year's verdicts is impossible to predict. There is a scathing opinion to be overcome.

"Harvard's nice in the summer, but Yale is better in the winter," was a representative declaration at the end of last year's eight-week course. Fashion reactions, heretofore, have also been exzemic.

Against Tradition

One Miss Helen Mills of New York City last year found the local habit of "going around in fiannel shorts the most ridiculouse I've ever seen." Some, indeed, objected to the ivied tradition of even long finnels.

Time changeth all things. But one boil that will never burst was summed up in the cry of Miss Lois Salsgate, a petite Middlebury alumns. "Every Harvard man I've seen," she groaned, "has had a little green bag over his shoulder and a posture to match."