Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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IO OUR CLASSROOM There at the end of the long hall is a class- room where the early morning sunshine streams in through the windows, and lights up each rug- ged desk. All is quite still, but it is yet very early and this quiet room silently drinks in the sunshine while it waits for its big family of Grade Elevens. The tops of the desks show many an imprint of some girls' diligent work with a bobby pin and a pen. Yes, there are initials on the desks-initials of girls who used the same desks years before I was born. The blackboards shine with cleanliness, the books stand like soldiers upon the neat, tidy shelf, and the waste paper basket stands clean and empty. Then comes the sound of voices-the sound of life in the school. Familiar footsteps are heard coming toward the Grade Eleven classroom. Yes, it is the dear teacher, the first to arrive. She en- ters our still classroom and for a good ten minutes relaxes in the hard-backed chair enjoying the tidi- ness of her home-room, and awaiting her first morning glories . Soon the herd begins to amble in. Some smileg some throw their books on their desks and leave the room. She hears someone running outside in the hall, but is rather afraid to go and see who it is for fear of being knocked off her feet. She knows so well that the running girl belongs in her classroom. The Grade Eleven room already looks different. Books lie scattered here and there. One can smell the aroma of egg sandwiches escaping from the many brown bags lying scattered around the room. Our classroom is filled not only with books and desks but also with twenty girls, each with a dif- ferent personality. This is what makes the small Grade Eleven home very dear to each member in the class. The classroom couldn't be a sentimental memory without remembering all the fun, all the troubles, arguments and jokes we have shared many times a week. Once we were locked in the room. How we laughed as we nearly tore the door open! Another winter day one of my fellow class- mates left a window open and we nearly had a snow drift form on the well-polished floors. The fun we have is incalculablel Our classroom couldn't be dear to us without mentioning the poor ones who attempt to make us smarter individuals than we were the previous year. How they must suffer in our cluttered up kingdom of which we're so fond. As four o'clock draws near, we survey our wonderful classroom once again. Yes, its ap- pearance had greatly changed. The sunlight no longer shines through the windows. The tops of the desks are not nearly as tidy as they were early in the morning. They lie coated with dust and books. A strange fog seems to engulf the room. One who knows classrooms will recognize it at once to be chalk dust. The tiny particles float here and there over walls and windows. The boards are not the shining black colour they were dans le matin . They are a drab and dowdy grey with ledges heaped to the very brim with chalk dust. The waste paper basket stands filled to the top with tiny balls of writing material within a circle of paper which missed its open jaws. The shelf is covered with orange peal, torn paper bags and blotters. Even the pictures look tired as they droop to one side. Oh well, it's four o'clock, the end of another school day. Soon our home will be cleaned for tomorrow and another day in our beloved classroom. JANET BLEEKS, Grade XI. 'TIS EXAM TIME 'Tis nine o'clock- We drag to rooms In single file To meet our dooms- For ,tis exams. For hours we sit- More tired we get- And angry too With those who set Such hard exams. Two hours are up- We're half-way through- A half hour more- What shall we do? And still we sit. Pass papers in - We sit quite dumb- Regretting what Can't be undone In these exams. ELAINE PROTHEROE, Grade VIII.

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gg ggggg 9 Senior literary Work THE ROSE A garden, in the glory of summertime, is a magnificent sight with the yellow daffodils danc- ing in the breeze and the heavenly blue delphini- ums raising each little cup to the beak of the hungry humming-bird. There are bright flowers, there are flowers of subdued tones. There are flowers that hug the moist damp earth and those that raise their beautiful heads high above its sur- face, striving to reach the warmest depth of the sun's rays. Some are mere buds making a valiant effort to burst through the strips of green shroud- ing their hidden colour, while others have reached the magnificence of full bloom as a gangling child suddenly bursts forth into the flower of woman- hood. These are indeed a glorious sight, but none can compare with the rose. There is magic in each soft petal of the rose and magic in each dewdrop that caresses its sur- face in the dampness of morning. Whether drip- ping with raindrops or bursting forth in all its brilliance under the summer sun, the rose is a pic- ture of beauty, for the raindrops turn to diamonds at its touch. A rosebud, protected by its green coverlet, is like a baby hidden in the folds of a warm woolly blanket, contentedly sleeping under the watchful gaze of its mother. In the most ob- scure corner of a garden the warmth and blushing beauty of the rose overshadows and diminishes the surrounding brilliance, and its delicate fragrance delights the most critical nose. Through the years, the rose has caught the fancy of the artist, the writer and the composer and has been the inspiration behind many beau- tiful and artistic compositions. For behind its simple beauty there is a hidden meaning and at the sound of its name all the pure and good things of life are brought to mind. In its genuine sim- plicity and radiant beauty, the rose is truly Queen of the Flower Garden . WENDY SMITH, Grade XI. A STORM AT SEA Darkness, A storm, And a lovely ship Tossing in an angry and turbulent sea, A stark, black outline On mountainous waves That splashed against the sides And swished Across the deck. Stinging spray Leaped in the air. Icy winds Lashed the weather-beaten ship. Mercilessly She was lifted By the commanding waves And then let fall. Again, and again she rose And fell. Cold, and dark The wild sea night Became a chill and welcome dawn. A shout! Ahead-the bridge The harbour And safety. MARY HOPE McINNIS Grade XI. NEW LEAF This resolution is so good I'd be a fool to break it, In fact, I like it more and more Each New Year that I make it. LOIS MACDONALD Grade X North. v

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' I I f WHAT SCHOOL DO YOU ATTEND? What school do you attend? is a question all of us are asked frequently during the year. This year when we replied, Balmoral Hall , our answers were often met with a blank expression. This expression, although as old as man, was something new to former Rupertsland and River- bend students. In former years when a Ruperts- lander or Riverbender answered this question by Rupertsland or Riverbend , their answers were met with smiles of recognition. But the turn of the half-century brought something new for the Protestant Private Schools of Winnipeg. The Boards of Rupertsland and Riverbend agreed that the two schools should amalgamate to form one good girls' school between the Great Lakes and Vancouver. This school would be sit- uated on the former Riverbend site while an additional building would be constructed. But Mother Nature thwarted this plan, for the Red River Flood came upon us and the new building was not able to be built at once. This was not going to interfere with Balmoral Hall's begin- ning, for on Sept. 6, 1930, the doors of Balmoral Hall were opened to its first students. Miss Murell-Wright, our Headmistress, and members of the former staffs of Rupertsland and Riverbend, welcomed us to Balmoral Hall, and to a year filled with endless surprises and thrilling experiences. To this day, their promise of new experiences and surprises, has not failed, and every- . , 2 . .--- R ' R. Y . , . .4 Q ug . L'5 'n, 1 'N . . , , ,V Y.,-,,. , ., , day in the first year of Balmoral Halls history, we have been face to face with some new challenge. With the election of Head Girl, Games Cap- tain and Prefects, the first term passed swiftly. Then in january, 1951, we named our four houses -Braemar, Ballater, Glen Gairn and Craig Gow- an. These names were chosen to foster enthusiasm and house spirit in all our future competitions. The sports' activity continued within the school and we took part in the city High School and Volleyball and Basketball Leagues. Although the Senior Volleyball team did not make the Sport headlines of the city's newspapers, the teams fought and played their games well, showing good sportsmanship. They never gave up and always hoped for success in the next game. These games fostered school spirit. We who have lived through both pleasant and disturbing days at Balmoral Hall, feel that as the school has been growing, we too have been devel- oping in mind and manner. Although many of us will not be back next year, wherever we may be, and whatever we may be doing, the thought of Balmoral Hall will be with us. May you, the girls whom we leave to Pull Together , mould a school of which Winnipeg may be justly proud, and may you receive the smile of approval when you answer Balmoral Hall to the question What school do you attend ? DONNA PATTERSON. Grade Xl.