Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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A MAN God made him a man; Let him be a man. He is born, and fed, and clothed. And schooled. So let him be respected. And known to all as a man, and not as — A fool God gave him eyes that he might see, Let him see and also remember. God gave him limbs that he might move. Let him use these to defend His country, his nation, his world, his home. That he may save his people. God gave him a mind with which to learn, With this let him be wise. God gave him a heart so he could serve, Let him serve his Maker well. God gave him a soul to be a man. Let him achieve this honour! If he loves what is right, And what he believes, And follows his creeds as he should; Then as he dies, let no one weep. For he is worthy of being called — A Man. Laureen Hicks, Form Vb, Fairley House. TRANSPORTATION IN MONTREAL THERE ARE three types of buses in Montreal, the crowded bus, the empty bus, and the disappearing bus. All three types are equally dangerous, and require a different attitude on the part of the traveller. The crowded bus is perhaps the most common. It appears in droves around five o ' clock. Deceptively, it slows down as it approaches the stop where you are hopefully waiting — along with two hundred other people — then speeds up and passes by. If it does stop, all those lined up in front of you manage to squeeze on, but just as you are about to follow them, the driver cries, Next bus, mind the door! and the door practically scrapes the skin off your nose as it closes. By the way, this ' next bus ' is purely a figment of the driver ' s imagination. Finally, however, you manage to get onto a bus, but cannot sit down. The bus driver applies his brakes vigorously at every corner, and at least a dozen people lurch against you and step on your feet each time he does this. As a crowning touch, you will probably be carried beyond your destination as you fight to get to the door. To travel on this type of bus, you must be cool and collected. You must maintain an air of detachment from the mob as they fall around you, and learn to say offhande dly, So sorry, when you step on a leg, arm, or other impedimenta. It is always a good practice to carry an umbrella with a sharp, pointed end. The second type is the empty bus. This is more dangerous than the first type, because it lulls you into a false sense of security. It appears promptly and is a model of good behaviour until you step onto it. It is usually occupied by two small boys, a young mother with a baby, and an old lady. The trouble [23]

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A BOOK It may be just a little book, To take that book, and open it, A little book, but then To find those worlds anew. There suddenly appears in me When seamen sailed the seven seas, A long forgotten yen And fairies swam in dew. My poem is not finished yet. My faithful reader, friend, A bad book ends where it begins, A good book has no end. RoNNE Heming, Form IIIa, Fairley House. WINTER SCENE THE SUN had been shining brightly over White Bear Lake. Now the day had faded to twilight, and the sun was sinking slowly behind a snow-covered mountain peak. The old fisherman stood silently on the ice, staring at the pale sunset, streaked with grey. Evening was approaching, and he realized that it would soon be too dark to fish. He sighed deeply, and shifted his stare to his fishing lines, trailing through the hole he had cut in the ice of the lake. Although he had fished since noon, his efforts were unrewarded. He stood motionless, and gazed at the bleak country around him. The mountains were covered with a thick blanket of snow, and the black, charred trunks of trees stood out sharply against the whiteness, a grim reminder of the forest fire which had swept through the mountains the previous year. Every- thing was silent and desolate. Animals no longer scampered through the forest, the birds no longer sang. Only the fish remained, unaffected by the fire. Today the old man had been unlucky. Tonight there would be nothing to eat. He sighed again as he thought of his wife, so thin and weak. A shadow seemed to pass across his face. Suddenly one of the slack lines tightened. His thin, drawn face became radiant with joy. He was now completely satisfied with the efforts he had made. He had received a great enough reward. Soon a sound of sleigh bells was heard, and a sleigh drawn by two strong horses came into sight. The fisherman ' s laughing grand-children ran down to help him. He climbed in thoughtfully, still silent. The children piled in happily, laughing and chattering excitedly, and drove the sleigh on. The sleigh was soon a small speck in the distance, and no trace of happiness and laughter remained around White Bear Lake. Diana Ardagh, Arts VI, Ross House. [22]

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begins as you are getting out your ticket. With textbooks in one hand, wallet in the other, and notebooks clutched between your teeth, you have just dropped the ticket into the box when the bus lurches forward and you almost fall over backward. Recovering, you walk in dignity down the aisle, but just as you are stepping into a seat the bus rounds a corner, and you find yourself sitting on the floor instead. The small boys hoot, the baby begins to cry, and the old lady gives you a look of icy disapproval. The driver of this bus, jolly fellow that he is, seems to be under the impression that he is driving the ' Snap the Whip ' at Belmont Park. This type of bus requires a cautious attitude on your part. Be wary. Hold onto something all the time (but not the driver). Of course, if yovi take this precaution the bus will not lurch, and everyone will think you are crazy, but that is of no consequence. The third and last type is the most frustrating — the disappearing bus. It can be seen in the distance, like a mirage, but never seems to get any closer. Finally, you realize that it is a parked Troy laundry truck. Sometimes, though, it really does appear, and from three blocks away you can see how empty it is — comparatively speaking - and joyfully think that for once you will be able to sit down on the way home. Oh no! The M.T.C. loves this particular ruse. As the bus approaches the stop, you will see the sign ' Special ' on the front, and inside will be a small group of inspectors, riding to their posts in relaxation. This bus will be a new one too, whereas you are expected to play sardines in an old, creaking one. Be patient, however - the old bus will come eventually, and it is better than nothing. Or is it? Fellow Montrealers — fellow sufferers, never mind. In another hundred years we may actually start planning a subway. Anne Begor, Form Vb, Gumming House. TEACHER ' S LAMENT with apologies to William Shakespeare To give bad marks or not, that is the question: — Whether ' tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The slings and spitballs of outrageous children, Or to take arms against the little monsters. And, by opposing, calm them? To scream - to yell - No more; and, by a bad mark, say we en ' d The nonsense and the hundred thousand shocks That children give us, ' tis a consolation Devoutly to be wish ' d. To write, to think; To think! perchance to read; ha, that ' s a laugh; For in that one classroom, what peace is there Till one o ' clock does ultimately come And give us rest? Ah, there ' s the thing That makes our tempers short, our minds distraught; For who can bear the noise and clamour long Of teachers ' foes, and parents ' little darlings. The insolence of some, and all the spurns That patient merit of the teacher takes. When she herself might sweetest vengeance wreak With a few bad marks? Dana Hopson, Senior VI, Fairley House. [24]