Peterborough Teachers College - PTC Yearbook (Peterborough, Ontario Canada)

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THOUGHTS OF A STUDENT When lesson plans are failures And everyth1ng's a mess, I wonder why I came here, Up here,-to P.N.S.? My practice teachers haunt me. My graph goes up and down, And from the eyes of masters, I only get a frown. We're taught the perfect lesson. fThat's in the perfect schooll. But put it into practice And try to keep the rule! The little brat who's hiding Behind an angel face, Is just the one who's throwing Soft spitballs into space! But just the same I like itg The leisure time, and all The hours I spend in cheering Our stars of basketball. The projects and the craftvvork, The music and the fun, .lust make our Normal family A great big happy one! But most of all we cherish The friendships that we make. Some may be everlasting, The kind that never break. For next year, when we're tired Of books and classrooms drear, We'll wish for fellow students And P.N.S. so dear. -IRENE WALTERS. Valedictory Lindy Mclntosh HE DAYS grow longer, but time grows shorter, for 'tis Spring, and Spring has only one meaning-the completing of the term at P.N.S. T. B. Gleave once wrote, In all the world there is no place so dear as home, and since that memorable day of September 10, 1946, when We were but Strangers in a strange land being made very Welcome, P.N.S. has spelled t'home . Do you recall Miss Johnson's words? You will leave Normal School with tears in your eyes.' And shall we? Ah, yes! But will we remember P.N.S. with tears in our eyes ? Ah, no! As one wee lady would declare. Page Sixteen

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Our Delegates Chosen to represent Peterborough Normal School, Miss Mary King and Mr. Bruce Curtis attended the At Home of the Toronto Normal School. Misses Betsy English, Berenice Spencer, Bernice White and Mr. Don Nicholls were elected to attend the O.E.A. Convention in Toronto during Easter week. At the time of writing no report of their activities was available. Critical Times at Normal OT SO LONG ago they were known as critic teachers . To-day they have assumed the more pleasant sounding alias of practice school staff . Admittedly the latter designation is less forbidding to the newly arrived Normalites. For the first few weeks of Normal School life the student teachers are not exposed to the mercies of the august group upon which their destinies may largely depend. Then all too suddenly the first lesson descends upon us and we all come face-to-face with reality. A few lucky CD students had a Normal School Master present on this initial venture also. That first lesson! The practice teacher, who seemed such a lovely person on observation day, suddenly takes on for us the appearance of a stern-faced judge, whom you can see rather hazily at the back of the roorn, over the sea of pupils, writing furiously to record your teaching errors .... And then it is all over. You grope your way to the back and nervously await the sentence. After an interminable period, school is dismissed and the critical moment arrives. We've had it. What did you like about your lesson? , we have since learned, is the stock question employed by practice teachers to begin a criticism. Polite- ness is the better part of valour on such occasions, so student number one mumbles an unintelligible remark about, It could have been better . After learning the students' opinion of the lesson, we realize what rank amateurs we are when the practice teacher tosses away the disguise and becomes a critic in the flesh. So many faults we didn't think one person could possibly have. Your introduction should have been a story . . . don't ask, 'How many have seen one'?' 'Can someone tell me?, 'What about this?' . . . did I hear you say, 'I have saw' . . . use more expression . . . your summary could have been better . . . why didn't you use print script . . . But I liked your lesson. You have a nice manner with the children. So on and etc. With spirits rising and falling, alternately, as the practice teachers continue to disect our lessons, week after week, we approach the end of the fall term with misgivings. Finally the big moment arrives for a glance at our teaching graph. Hearts beating wildly as Mr. Copp methodically thumbs through the pages of the Doomsday Book, we offer a belated prayer as he says, ah! here it is. Hoping for the best, we take a quick glance at the graph and jittery as We may be, try to picture the lessons as they appear. Why it seems to zig where I thought it should have zagged! And it actually seems to be ascending! Suddenly Normal School becomes a much better place, the Masters are all grand fellows and the practice teachers really aren't critics. They're just practice teachers! -J IM COVERT. Page Fifteen

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Spruce up and stop this weeping willow stuff! Smile as you remember that very first day with its awful misgivings and shy across-the-aisle glances-the quaint manner in which every master described the others- the dogtags drooping from our necks-Mr. lVIcKinney's remarkable memory for names- clicking acquaintances with Form III over knitting needles- your first lesson fostering the principle, The most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do whether you like it or not -Miss J ohnston's cooking classes-that Toronto trip-all the Friday night get-to-gethers with Mr. Copp directing the dips and dives in the ocean waves, and the Woodruff-McKinney duet tduelj hammering sweet and oh-so-nice nothings at the piano-the man power shortage-projects and more projects-Miss Cleland's dimples, Mr. Smitheram's jokes and Mr. Munro's vitality-the last minute rushes for morning assemblies- O Moon of My Delight and John blowing a fuse- the gossip column in Friday's newspaper enkindled by the daily rendezvous at the corner canteen-Let us remember every happy hour enjoyed at P.N.S., and let us think of the days to come. We stand at the crossroads. We have covered the training groundg a bright unknown territory beckons to be explored. Now, more than ever before, we value and cherish the grains of thought sown and harvested through the Normal staffs skillful instruction and the kindly constructive criticism expressed by practice teachers. And may we not, while teaching the fundamentals based upon the universal textbooks of man-Shakespeare, Homer and the Bible, forget the three C's so stressed during our Normal School year,-Courtesy, Courage and Co-operation. Scarcely can we delve into the future's mysteries, but because We are young we regard the future with faith and because we have accepted the noble challenge of the teaching profession, we shelter in our hearts a hidden hope, a prayer, a desire-perhaps, a desire not unlike that of Lester Keathley's- MY DESIRE Give me ears to hear the questions Of a knowledge-seeking childg To his problems great and mildg Give me patience, never-ending, For the things I teach and dog Clear my vision-may I ever Feel his needs and see his view. Make me with the child to wander Through his happy fairy landsg Let me skip with him and listen To imaginary bands. Soon his fairies all will vanish And the music fade awayg Fantasies will change to visionsg Work will rival happy play, Soon if I may be companion, Friend and playmate of a child, I shall never doubt his learning While I teach the things worth while. Blair Hanthorn, commenting upon seeing Mr. Woodruff carry a metre stick from the school: I guess Mr. Woodruff is going to find if the family measures up to the 'Principal's standards'. Page Seventeen