Balfour Technical School - Beacon Yearbook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

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JZeabnitUf to Skate ' |H ' ji f ' st ALL MY LIFE, I had always wished I could ♦it roller skate: but up until a few weeks ago, I had not make a single attempt at it. iks , All who enjoyed this delightful sport |, ' were rushing to get in on the fun, for the new roller rink had just opened. I decided to take a try at it too. I felt quite confi- sttj dent that I would do well; I was a very 3U 1 good ice skater, and — skating is skating, fly in any form — so I thought. O ' DS! igi DU ' fe say ssi: W ha I entered the building where I plunked myself down on one of the benches to wait for someone to tell me where to get my skates. Before I knew what was happen¬ ing, both ankles were being grabbed, as I looked down to see two gigantic masses of metal, four wheels on each, strapped tight¬ ly on my feet. Those must be the skates, 1 thought to myself. Aren ' t they the wrong size? They seem to be awfully heavy, I said aloud, trying to make it sound as if I were an expert on the subject. After a few snickers from the bystanders, I was informed that it was not the weight, but the length that determined the size, and also, that each skate could be ad¬ justed for the individual. My, how interesting, thought I to myself, never thinking that my ignorance ' dehad been evident. By now having had enough talk I wanted some action. I got up to go into the rink. I had barely risen when my feet slipped from under me. With a mad lunge I grabbed the bar that ran along the wall. Just as jndl did this, a woman leading two youngsters over to the bench almost collided with me. M-my but they must have loosened the wheels on my skates too much, came tumbl¬ ing out in an apologetic tone. She gave me a rather sickly smile and proceeded to go toward the bench. As I entered the rink, the roar of the wheels and the din of everyone skating feverishly around in circles made me feel rather dizzy, but on I went — or I should say Down I went. After I finally managed to stand up, I had to figure a way to start moving. I noticed that everyone seemed to be push¬ ing his feet in a special way. I followed suit, and to my amazement, it worked! I could skate! I was about halfway around the rink when I saw a runaway pair of skates, with somebody in them, coming straight for me. I froze in my tracks; and doing so, I caused the line behind me (at leas ' 50 people) to pile up, all on top of me. After the doctor arrived, I was taker back home, badly bruised and with c broken arm, feeling as if every bone in my body was broken. So ended my first, last, and only attempt at roller skating. Doreen Foreman, 4C % a Pai i of IT IS IMPOSSIBLE for me to give you up without recalling all the glorious times we had together. Do you remember the many parties we went to? All the times you were discarded in a corner and given a disdainful look because you were so difficult to dance with on an ordinary dance floor. What experiences we have shared to¬ gether! There were so many different dates on which you accompanied me. Do you remember the many compliments you re¬ ceived from all the various male friends we were entertained by? Oh, yes, let ' s not forget those gentlemen who always seemed to have two left feet when they danced with us. There were many times when they would step on you and you would become very angry, but you never complained to them about their clumsiness. You sacrificed yourself to afford me an enjoyable evening. We must also mention those dancing con¬ tests we entered. It seemed that when I was with you it didn ' t make any difference who my dancing partner was. My feet were able to move in perfect unison and many were the prizes we won in those contests. I often wonder how you were able to stand up under the tremendous strain I put upon you in all those episodes. Don ' t you think it was worth it though, just for memory ' s sake? But most exciting of all, the day which brings back the most pleasant memories we ever realized was on the night of my senior prom. Of course, you must remember how excited we were that evening? You tried to fit yourself on my feet the wrong way in our great haste to be ready on time. Do you recall who escorted us that evening? I do, for he was my idol, the star quarter¬ back of the football team. We danced so expertly that evening that it seemed as though we were gliding along over clouds. You performed in all your glory that even¬ ing, and I was so proud and excited that we had impressed the young, handsome, football hero. But you are now dance-worn and weary and have come to rest. No more will you be able to execute those daring steps in which you once excelled. You will be able to rest your weary arches and let your heels relax completely. Perhaps, some day I will unpack you and think back again on our wonderful adventures. Shirley Wolfe, 4C 7he Qneatedt tlood I dreamed a great flood of people, From far and distant lands, Had come and joined together, Their religions, cultures, and hands. The Hindus and the Christians, The Buddhists and the Jews, Were sitting close together, Airing religious views. The Mexican and the German, Among this colorful throng, Forgot their many differences, While their voices rang in song. There, dancing with hearts aglow Together in the street, Were many different races, A new life had come to greet. I dreamed a great flood of people From Britain, China and Greece, From India and all the world, Made an everlasting peace. Joanne Sawchyn, 4B t jBalfour Beacon ' 58 41

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Ilte tf-itet cM-ectlc ONE DAY, early in September, I entered Balfour Tech for the first time since having reached the status of a high school student. I spotted a group of teenagers I knew and was making my way towards them when we were herded into the auditorium. After being addressed by the vice-principal, we were assigned to our form rooms. We searched successfully for the rooms, where we were given a book list and a time table and then were dismissed. A scramble for strange books followed. The day passed quickly. The second day found the form eager to be off, off with their coats that is. But as the lockers hadn ' t been assigned there was nothing we could do but go to class with our heavy outer clothing. Then, as if the coats weren ' t bad enough, the rooms started disappearing! One in par¬ ticular just about drove us wacky and we were ready to organize a search party when one of the more daring of us stumbled across it at the end of the hall. The rest of us trailed after him and classes resumed. Teachers, too, presented a problem — so many names to associate with so many subjects. But in time, they straightened out. Until the middle of the next week no lockers were assigned. By then we of the form had not only discovered that the rooms must be placed helter-skelter in whatever order somebody pleased, but also that most of the teachers stayed in their own forms a great deal of the time. We learned, too, that the food in the cafeteria was for sale, not just for show. Then before we had time to collect our wits we started writing short queer little exams. I was wondering how the little symbols we were questioned about could link up with history or any other subject, when the truth came out-—they were I.Q. tests. Frankly, I thought they were fun. Slowly we settled into routine and before we could say Honorificabilitudinitatibus ten times, mid-terms had come and gone and Christmas exams were posted. It was the first time most of us had written a set of exams such as these and we were, need¬ less to say, quite apprehensive. Actually, they weren ' t really so bad and it was a relief to have them over and done with. On that hopeful note holidays began. In January school resumed and by the end of February we all felt as if we really belonged to Balfour. We could find without hesitation, any given room in the school. We were able to place the teachers when we saw them and were becoming quite astute at noting when one teacher was in a story-telling-mood. We were proud of being high school students and wasted no opportunities in telling the world how we felt. We plodded through the Easter exams with everyone quite sure he had failed. I have come to the conclusion that flunking all nine exams is utterly impossible: even if you skim by with only a 50 or two. Now the whole school was beginning to worry in earnest about recommendations. We freshies were very like our seniors. The teachers were not reassuring. Day after day they reiterated, Start studying your weak subjects, so some of us took their advice. Early in June we began saying farewell to our teachers and on the tenth of that month our sentences were read. We accepted them with as much good grace as possible and the next day, the final set of exams began. At the end of the month we re¬ turned for our results with the knowledge that in two months we would be back, but no longer as freshies. We would WGtch the new class enroll and it would remind us of our own confusion the year before. Then we would look to the senior class and realize we were one step closer to the goal of gradu¬ ation. We would be proud to call ourselves sophomores. Iris Peterson,2E Pty w TIME: 12:01 p.m., February 1, 1958. PLACE: Cape Wascana. EVENT: The launching of two giant rockets, the Universe I and the Universe II. The two rockets were ready to fire, each securely placed in its launching tower. I looked across the lake, to the city, and thought: this would make history. Maybe in due time, we would launch a satellite. Joe and I gave a last minute check. An error so minute that it couldn ' t be noticed, would cause failure. Each bright, red rocket was about eighteen inches tall, with glisten¬ ing fins. Joe looked at his watch and announced, Thirty seconds to zero hour. All ready? Roger, I replied briskly. Joe counted off the seconds. I thought back to the day when we started making the rockets. Thirty unsuccessful rockets had preceded these two. Thirty, pains-tak¬ ing projects, with high hopes and dismal failures. But we were sure these would succeed. We had put so much work into them and built them with time-taking energy and careful precision. Our hopes rose high as Joe announced Zero hour. I lit the fuse, then ran back to a safe distance, waiting watching, hoping. The fuse grew smaller and smaller. Ther it wasn ' t visible. Any second now it woulo go. We waited silently, expecting the best And the rocket, that wonderful, majesti: r rocket—didn ' t go. I crept up on it, kicked it over to mak: sure it wasn ' t lit. I finally got another fuse into it, and without the count-down, lit w it, then backed away. ni tc Seconds later, there was a terrific, whistl- d( ing sound. Orange and white flame shot ou: g of the rocket. The rocket rose swiftly j n flame streaking behind it. It was one o : j our most successful rockets. Our hopes rose with the rocket. And the rocket rose higi and mighty—three feet, four feet, foy feet and six inches. Then, fuel spent, it fe! back to earth. 4 But we weren ' t licked yet. Universe I; ■ was waiting patiently. I lit the fuse an: ran back. And it was a good thing I did L The fuel burned for a second, and the: | there was a terrific, shattering explosion The rocket flew to pieces. I gathered up thf remains and examined them. Joe hobbled over and said, Nice explo g sion anyway. One of the best, I assured him. Bt I was disappointed. We weren ' t makint . bombs, just rockets. We went home, dis m appointed, but we knew our mistakes on: 1 could correct them next time. M I set to work on the next rocket im mediately. Then the evening paper cam 9 announcing that United States had sent i % successful sputnik up. I gave up. If U.S I could beat us, it was no use continuing. But did we quit then? No sir. We set ot remaining chemicals into more useful pm poses. We were progressing, you might sa Rockets — who cares about them. Russi: and United States has plenty of them. W were going to build something better the that. Anybody care to buy a fair-sized bomb? Bob Natiuk, 2A my: wai my ing, lool Seada td ' y c When winter winds were chilly And earth was clothed in white: The children made a snowman, Which vanished one warm night. And in its place next morning, Where nought had stood before: A tiny crocus, proud and straight, Burst through the earthen floor. mys to t to r on t A I wc but and juste ojjimy yuve wuy The children ' s frolics gay, Were heard throughout the countrys As they went about their play. myse de had Slowly the days got shorter, The leaves fell to the ground, The birds left for the south land, Where it ' s warm the whole year rou B some I ha from the nd I did over And through the different seasons, We know both joy and pain; For that ' s how life was meant to be: The sunshine with the rain. A whee ing c Sh proce Sharon Thune, 3E Balfour Beacon ,‘Balfo 40

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tf-teetwicj, Solitude When my love has gone away; I travel an unfamiliar way; The old paths still remain But never will they be the same. The days are long, all bound in time, And life is dull, a foggy clime; All things are of purple hue. Till happily I think of you. Randy Lorenz, 4B ! ' Bit Pant ' iu IT WAS the first time I had ever been on a stage. This was my big night; the moment I had always dreamed of. I had practiced for weeks saying those four special words, Gentlemen, dinner is served. The night of my big moment was here. My knees were like water, and when I tried to walk onto the stage on my treacherous rubber-like legs, I couldn ' t move. I seemed to be glued to the spot. My mouth felt as if it were filled with sawdust, and my throat was as dry as parchment. What was I supposed to say? What was my line? My mind went blank. Some anxious person gave me a shove forward. As I stumbled across the stage, I seemed to hear from a distance a cue. I looked blankly at the man who kept saying, Ah, here is the maid. I knew I was supposed to say some¬ thing then, but for the life of me I couldn ' t remember what it was. I began to tremble with such great vigor, that I was sure all those staring faces would notice. Oh, please, let the floor drop away from below me, was my silent prayer as I stood rooted to the spot, blushing and stammer¬ ing. Served is dinner. No, that wasn ' t right. I couldn ' t remember those four precious words. I had practiced so hard and learned my speech so well. Yet, here I was, standing in the middle of the stage, my mind a complete blank. I took a deep breath. One thing kept going around in my mind, If you take a deep breath, your fright will go away. I was still terrified. I could hear faint prompting in the back¬ ground. What were they saying? How I wished that man would stop saying, Ah, here is the maid! The minutes ticked by as I stiffly stood there, trying desperately to think of some¬ thing to say. A familiar face was beside me now quietly whispering some words into my ear. My mind began to clear as the familiar words penetrated the fog. Terrified, lest I forget them again, I quickly stammered, Gentlemen, dinner is served. There, I had accomplished the task. I turned and quickly fled from the stage. My career ended before it began. I never acted again. Marcia Fahlman, 4C headline All through the night I rack my brain At times I think I ' ll go insane; Essays, poems of every kind, Stories, writeups, crowd my mind. All throng in, two by two. Do not stop, but run right through— For my folly I now pay; Ever shall I rue the day! When I said, There ' s lots of time, Procrastination was my crime. Putting off until the ' morrow Only added to my sorrow. Now I find it is my fate Every night to stay up late. Find what happened last July, Who was in it, where, and why, Who was captain of the team?? Deadline blues have got me now! Made it! But I don ' t know how! Rae Waind, 3E