Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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THE SINKING SUN THIS GRAVEL country road leads me toward a vast and calm lake. All is quiet; neither car nor child disturbs the peace. Looking across the lake, I see a sight that could have been taken from a painting. The large, round sun has turned a beautiful red, and is quickly sinking behind the purple-shadowed hills. This flaming sun casts a slightly red path on the water, below blue sky and scattered pink-tinted clouds. The lake is like a mirror, and so calm that hardly a ripple can be found. It is surrounded by trees whose foliage is just starting to turn the many colours that make autumn so picturesque. The sandy shoreline is speckled here and there with brightly painted summer cottages. Here I stand, still, alone, looking at this lovely and vivid scene. If only it would always stay the way I see it at this very moment! It gives me the feeling that, if I turned my back for a minute, the view before me would change, never to be the same again. I unwillingly turn around and start slowly back up the road, glancing repeatedly over my shoulder, until only the winding road is visible behind me. Gail White, Form IVa, Gumming House. VALE TRAFALGAR! HIC ANNUS dum fugit, ubi puto me participem annuarum cantus gymnasiique exercitationum mox non futuram esse, sed in auditoribus sedentem cum superbia res quarum olim particeps fuerim modo spectaturam esse, nonnumquam in me solitudo serpit. Hac autem sententia me consolor: me quandocumque velim meam scholam pristinam visere posse, ita ut ceterae quoque eam visurae sint. Semper meos annos in schola Trafalgariana laetos aestimavi, multis gaudiis sed paucis querimoniis completos. Celerius autem anni praeteriverunt et iam a schola discessura sum ubi olim territa puella nova veni, conans omnia intellegere nec nimium exstare. Auxilio quidem benevolarum puellarum vetenim omnibus meis difficultatibus parvis facillime victis, brevi sodalis facta sum. In schola Trafalgariana vero magistrae semper adsunt, libenter alumnam quae earum auxilio eget iuvantes. Annos igitur praeteritos respiciens, omnia benevola praecepta meminisse possum quae quoties eorum egebam accepi. Hoc anno, dum per aedificium ambulo, accuratius id contemplor ut semper scholae meae meminerim. Omnia enim conclavia diligentius quam antea intuens, id quod olim pro certo habebam memoria tenere conor. Animadverti quoque omnes condiscipulas meas iam amiciores esse videri et scio omnes idem sentire: post hunc annum, cvim omnes diversis itineribus iverimus, fortasse numquam rursus alias aliis occursuras esse; quare omnes nos propter dissen- siones leves quae per annos saepe evenerunt ceteras placare iam conamur. Itaque vale, Trafalgar, et ob omnes memorias iucundas dierum ludi quas mihi dedisti tibi gratias ago. Barbara Armbruster, Arts VI, Barclay House. [25]

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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]

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NIGHT IN THE FOREST While the evening lingers And the moon is hanging low. Weird music fills the forest While the fairies come and go. Fairies, sprites and pixies. Elves and goblins too, Each carrying a golden wand, Each with work to do. They fly about, in and out Of trees and flowers and grass. Making a pretty tinkling sound As to and fro they pass. But soon a misty light creeps up. The first grey light of dawn. That warns the fairies to fly away For soon will come the morn. So if you walk in the forest at night. At night by the light of the moon. You may see them pass in the rustling grass. But they are asleep at noon. Jackie Strowlger, Form II, Gumming House. A FAIRY STORY ONE DAY a little fairy came running along the path to the Fairy Queen. He held out a ring in his hand. How glad the Queen was to see her gold ring! The fairy bowed down, then he said, I have found the ring in the giant ' s house. The Fairy Queen said, You are a brave man. You shall marry me, and they lived happily ever after. Bernice Jeszenszky, Preparatory, Age 7. [26]