Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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ROOM 61, “THE GRINDERS” Chips from the Grindstone Pickle’s poetic tendencies are developing. We are, in fact, hoping to see him some day shine forth as poet floreate of Canada. A Perhaps Poem Within Room 61, they say, The pupils study night and day; So, in the June exams, you bet They all will 1A honors get. P.S.—Write a note on the versification???-Oh, rats! Why does Gervas get angry when Miss Doupe says, “Now, Gervas, you put your sentence at the top of the blackboard.” Poor little Gervas. We wonder what would happen if someone commended us on being the best behaved class in the school ? Bring on the stretcher bearers! Does Linnie wear glasses to look wise? If such be the case, Herby, Laura and our other class “savants” must look to their laurels. “SLICKERS” No doubt the teachers will soon become infected with this fever which has seized the “schoolboy with shining morning” slicker. Then we shall see Mr. Murphy strolling up Alverstone Street, the letters on his back proclaiming “arma virumque cano,” or “Quisque pro se.” Mr. Cooke’s coat will say “Alone, alone, all alone,” and “Oh! oh! oh! oh!” that very dramatic passage from “Macbeth.” And also Miss Clark with “je suis, tu es, il est,” etc., and Miss Moore with “The steps leading up to Confederation are—” This cartoon speaks for itself. Can you guess whom it represents? Neither can we.— C. C. “How long you in jail fo’, Mose? “Two weeks.” “What am de cha’ge?” “No cha’ge, everything am free.” “Ah mean, what has you did?” “Done shot my wife.” “You all killed your wife and only in jail fo’ two weeks?” “Dat’s all—den I gets hung.” 23

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Vida Barret Hamilton —Irish aristocrat who has all the nice things that belong to the aristocracy. Christina Steele —Caused a sensation at a toboggan party by breaking her neck—no, her ankle. Eileen Christie — Another singer; class librarian, and future pianist of the Capitolians. Gwen. Carter —A Girl Guide; always does her daily good deed (homework). Vivian Black —Hundred-yard sprinter; full of “wise cracks.” Muriel • Kent —Good at soccer (sock her), but all right otherwise. Dorothy Pierce —Our terpsichorean nymph; disciple of Yentelle Fred. Christina Horn —Good little bad girl frae “Bonnie Scotland,” dinna say a word against her ain countree. Marie Sloan —Good at anything, especially geometry; is never late. Catherine Griffiths —“Flaming Youth”; keenest basketball player of the age, for her size. Dorothy Paulson —The tall blond beauty that you hear about in novels. She dances like an angel and glides instead of walking. Grace Carpenter —The human volcano; very much in action. Cherry Crawford —President; the feminine D’Arcy McGee and the future author of the great Irish novel; green is her favorite color. Hazel Gordon —Old-fashioned beauty, curls and all; “mighty lak a rose;” always first in class, when Sadie isn’t. Caroline Watling —Not as fast as she looks; never catches up with herself. Lillian Furney —Glee Club pianist; general favourite; much praised by the festival adjudicators; sports captain. Lola Smith —Future prima donna of the D’Oyly Carte Co., long hair and everything; secretary of the school. Eileen Ferguson —Fine basketball centre; never says much, but she gets there. ROOM 58, 12A, “THE WHISPERING GALLERY” We are undoubtedly the finest pupils in the school—in our own estimation. Some of us, of course, are possessed of minor eccentricities, such as coming in late, neglecting our homework, and —“horrors” whispering across the aisles between periods; but that “doesn’t make any difference.” Our slight faults we strive to correct; we realize that “life is serious,” that it is “not all pleasure,” and that we “as Grade XII’s should set an example to the lower grades.” Our “academic” duties are most diligently observed, but at times we become conscience-stricken and ask ourselves, “Is there any reason why we cannot do better work?” As to our athletic endeavours, our gynmastic feats at noon-hour speak for themselves; there is, of course, a consequent slight derangement of the objects in the room, entailing the scattering about of chalk and the breakage of a few plants which, from lack of attention, have become dry to the point of brittleness. However, considering all things together, we are really an excellent class, and, as “genius borders on insanity,” we are elated by the hope that therein lies the solution of all our difficulties. We have only to persuade the teachers of our genius and the day is won. 22

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K.—I always make a point of saying just what I think. C.—Good. Then we’ll have a nice quiet evening. Ed.—You know, I like Pamela. She’s a girl who stands out in a crowd. Bert—H’m! I prefer one who sits out. Author—I ought to have been a chemist. Wife—A chemist? Why, dear? Author—Everything I write becomes a drug on the market ' . A DUMBELL’S IDEA OF A TRACK TEAM The absent-minded professor who put out the clock and wound up the cat is reported to have forgotten his watch and then taken it out to see if he had time to go back for it. Wealthy Aunt—Now, remember, Hugh, you are to be one of my executors. Nervous Nephew—Er—certainly, aunt; any time you like. 24