London Normal School - Spectrum Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

Page 33 text:

education hc problem of education is not to teach men how to reach the stars, but to create men of strength and self control, who, w hen they have reached a goal, can act intelligently. The problem is not so much to teach men how to get rich, although that may be important, as how to use riches after they have been gained. The problem is not how to get great honour, place, or eminence, but to bear the responsibilities which such honour always carries along with it. Edu- cation seeks to develop resources and initiative in the individual — honesty, honour, and a vision of truth. It seeks to train leaders; it seeks also to lift the whole level of the human race to broader and clearer vision, to finer thinking and nobler appreciation. Man is the only creature of our earth, to whom the knowledge of good and evil, and the power to choose between them, has been granted. Only when this power is cultivated to the place where it controls thinking and behaviour, is man really educated. Only when the mind has been trained to seek truth and goodness, and apply them to daily life, is he the educated person he ought to be. Without conscience, intellect threatens all that men hold dear of freedom, peace, and brotherhood. In our schools today, from kindergarten to college, the future of our nation is being laid down. On these children in our schools, the fate of our peoples, for good or evil, must lie, and it is important that we consider gravely, what we are doing to guide this potentially powerful force. What are we giving these young people, that will help them to live wisely, serve ably, and lead successfully in their time? True, we are giving them instruction in the stored wisdoms of the races. The books, laboratories, the classrooms and shops are wide open to them. But are we teaching the arts, the sciences, and the skills in a way that will waken their souls and stimulate in them a respect for truth and a regard for their fellowmen? Are we teaching them so that they will use their abilities in terms of service? On the quality of our teaching and their learning, rests the fate of the world. BOB HATHEWAY, Form III.

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M. JO-ANN WRIGHT London Ambition: Marriage. Past Life: Terry. Interest Group: Square Dance Calling. Hobbies: Horse-back riding and knitting. CAROL A. YOUNG Sarnia Ambition: B.A. Past Life: Blank! Interest Group: Art. Hobbies: Skating and playing the piano. P. SCHMIDT, B.A. Windsor ' phil ' Ambition: Nil. Past Life: Basketball. Interest Group: Audio- Visual. Hobbv: Basketball. ROSE MERON Ambition: None. Past Life: Worked at London Life. Interest Group: Music. Hobbies: Music, dancing. Sister Mary Cabrini LONDON Sister Mary Piiilomene LONDON Frances T. Suske LONDON Samuel Sievertz LONDON

Page 34 text:

excerpts from a student ' s notebook ... but step down, step down to the bottom stairs where the battered coffee-mug stands seeth- ing .... where the languorous waitress tugs at her stocking-seams . . . where shrewd, kindly Pinky scratches at his advancing bald-spot and poignantly speaks of tragedy. Tragedy — one of our most saleable commodities — strikes up a chorus of responses even from among our conserva- tive consumers in the back row and at once a point of departure ... a beginning of an end has been created and the conversation holds. Yet, some prefer restraint . . . lower the eye-lashes to linger in solitude with their particular, beautiful misery. But the best among them exchange their daringness and cunningness . . . take turns at disclosing elbows of pain and turbulence and inquire, adroitly, whether or not we should like to have our inning now or hold our peace. . . . they spoke of nostalgia and he felt himself sink away from the table . . . felt a shadow of longing pass overhead and heard ancient, half-remembered voices call from across time while a soundless wind, a cold, north wind whirled somewhere . . . somewhere beyond the pane. Through the smoke they spoke of many things — of Charlie with his paint brushes poking their noses from ' neath the empty canvas; of the two in the corner . . . the two huddled for warmth ... of the two waiting for the bus that would not come . . . the three that break out in rampant delight at the initial whisp of a popular melody, each superimposing on the others the tone and climb of her own rocking memory as altogether they swing into I am so glad that . . . And of Sally . . . good-time Sally . . . alone, in her bare four walls and a ceiling penning a carefully compromising note to him who hesitates, seeking just the right word . . . just the right accent to arouse just the right sort of anticipation. And big-eyed Stan . . . the pool . . . some dumb-bells . . . muscles . . . muscles . . . muscles! But there are many stories — many styles — many sizes too. Perhaps this one will fit. A bit tight around the heels? . . . you don ' t have to have a loud voice to be heard . . . you don ' t have to put your tongue in one ' s ear . . . you don ' t have to speak in italics or capital letters for music is as music does. But there again that ' s an old cliche. You don ' t have to watch how you ' re praying but what you arc doing about it and so on and so on and so on. . . . it was sad-eyed Joy who first spoke of their carelessness . . . who first sang of their possibil- ity .. . who first touched upon the fact that there are many things they could hear if they ' d stop to listen; if they ' d slow down to the pace of reality. Why, they might well find the virtues of a new type of cherry blossom. Yet note the resounding bass . . . note that clear chime from the xylophone as it bounces across the sweltering room . . . note that horn pointing up and up and up . . . watch memory ' s glow grow to sense-phony. And from somewhere comes the bubbling voice of an enraptured child . . . and we stop and smile, secretly, and wonder what does it al ' mean. What are we — I and You — going to do? . . . now the song may not be as archaic as some might think it to be . . . the mood may have been weaned on just the precise touch of admiration and affection . . . the verse that has proved itself on the first page might well serve on the second . . . and third . . . and fourth. But this is no nearer to the localization of the soul . . . no further to the seat of our emotions, and we wonder why. We shout: but that is not what was meant at all . . . not it at all. Do not bother to grasp its significance ... do not try to understand, he said, we shall cherish you the more for remaining so . . . And the coffee-mug stood empty. And they paid and walked through tin revolving door. And there they revolved — Big Louis, Fran, Bubbles, Pete, Jack, Barry, Ann, Syl, Zol, Sam, Dick, Elsie, Fitz, Grace, Ted, and Jo . . . and it was morning. But that was Saturday night. MARK KRUK, Form IV.