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

Page 22 text:

zo W In the Library In the library on Thirty-second Avenue, an old man was sitting at one of the tables reading. What are you about? the old man heard a dull voice ask. He looked around and saw no one. I am about a jewel robbery, said an excited voice. The old man looked at a shelf where the librarian had just placed a new book called The Vanishing Rubiesf Could the books possibly be talking to each other? He began to listen more closely. I hope you are exciting, said the first voice. I am not. I am called 'The Stolen Chair', and I have been sitting on this shelf for over a year without anyone reading me. This morning I heard them talking about throwing me out I I don't know why people bother with you mystery stories. I think that stories like mine are nicer, laughed a gay voice. My name is 'Heidi', and all children like my pleasant tale. That's all very well for Children, but I am a much more useful book, said a scholarly voice. Everyone should read me. I am about English history from the reign of Alfred the Great to that of Queen Victoria. I don't see why people should waste their time reading you, giggled another voice. My name is 'Parlour Games for Young and Old', and many people have enjoyed reading me and following my advice. If you want enjoyment, remarked a cheerful voice, you should read me. My name is 'Ten Sixty-six and All That.' I am also a history book, but I make everyone who reads me laugh. Practically everyone who reads me cries. I have such a sad tale to tell about a horse named 'Black Beauty, said an unhappy voice that came from a shiny bl-ack-covered book. Alas! Mine is also a sad tale, whispered a romantic voice from a leather-bound copy of Romeo and Juliet. What could be sadder than to have both the lovers die at the end of the story! Still, we sad stories are very popular, said Black Beauty. Your cover is nearly falling off, 'Romeo and Juliet' What makes you think you are so popular, 'Black Beauty'? asked a young girl's voice with an English accent from a book called Alice in Wonderland. Your cover is very new and shiny. Only a week ago my cover was in just as poor shape as yours is, Alice, answered Black Beauty, but I have just come from the book- binders. Because your cover is so worn you will probably be sent to the repair shop soon. I'm so glad! exclaimed Alice. I was begin- ning to wonder what the children would do if I became too worn out to use. Stop it this minute! shouted an angry voice above the sound of a cat and dog fight. What is the matter with you? asked the new book, The Vanishing Rubies. I guess my name will tell you, answered the angry voice. It is 'Thirteen Black Cats Are Un- lucky, Especially if you have a Dog'. Mr. Jenkins, you have been sitting there for nearly an hour. Would you like me to help you find you a book? Perhaps you would like to read, 'The Stolen Chair'. Mr. jenkins looked up and saw the librarian standing beside him, No, thank you! he an- swered hurriedly. I believe I'd rather read 'The Vanishing Rubies. Margaret Buchanan, Grade VIII. Ode to the Home-Eccers The Home Economics Students To the Latineers did say, 'It would indeed be an honour To feed you lunch Tuesdayf They assured us with alacrity, 'We promise you won't die' We ate the lunch and to the girls- This is our reply- 'If what you baked for us today Is what you always cook, We Latineers sincerely wish It were Home EC. we took. The celery soup was delicious The Waldorf-really good- Those egg-nogs tasted wonderful, The meringues-just like they should. 'Birds' to Latin endings- And conjugated verbs- We would really like to know How to cook with herbs. And so we all to you do say For what you did for us today, 'We salute you salutamus Thank you gratias agimusf Judy Bonnycastle, Grade X. Snow Oh my goodness what deep snow! How to get through I just don't know. But spring is coming this I know And before too long the bulbs will show. Suzanne Riley, Grade VlII.

Page 21 text:

,gpg A gg g wg I9 mirror, piano, and refrigerator served as pleasant non-'academic decor. Grade Eleven established itself in the subter- ranean Science Laboratory, and occasionally were distracted from surrounding biology specimens to peer towards the teacher at the front of the room. Whats she talking about? I don't know, I can't even see her, - were typical student conversations. For a study period, one either picked up one's bug-ridden books and migrated to the back by the goldfish, or sat in the trunk-room to do home- work, happily dangling feet in a laundry basket. At one time, Grade Eleven was menaced by a bulldozer which threatened to join us for an English class. However Friday, November 11th was declared Moving Day. Piece by piece and desk by desk we moved to our new quarters and then we helped to move the Lab. Miss Sharman's prize boulders were soon removed, more care was given the skulls, and bones, and still more for the livestock. Then it was a bottle brigade - cartons and car- tons of bottles. This was followed by Handle With Care Acids whose carriers made a solemn procession but arrived intact. At the end of that day the room little resembled our clean and well- arranged Laboratory. Actually it was not long before everything was in order, and we satisfied our curiosity with an inspection of all our shining new rooms. B. Dougall, Grade XI. New Art Studio Never before has Balmoral Hall had an Art Studio - a room specially and entirely for art, crafts and weaving. Before I tell you about this new studio listen to our Art efforts while in tem- porary quarters, Supplies were kept in the laundry room in cupboard - drawings were piled on top. There just wasn't any other place because all space was used for classes. Wfe took turns carrying the supply box back and forth and between classes, we had no access to our unfinished paintings and drawings. But now - we have a Studio. We have a place for all our equipment. Our drawings are there - some of them hang for all to see-we learn from others what to do and what not to do. When in- spired to work and we have free time we go to the studio. Our unfinished effort calls, and everything is at our fingertip. It is no-t a large room and we badly need a sink in it but for those of us who like to draw it makes our new school complete for the Artist. An Art Student THE ART STUDIO

Page 23 text:

The Conversation in the Shoe Bag In Mary Janes bedroom hung a pretty blue shoe bag. There were many pairs of shoes inside it which were either her sister's or her own. One day as Mary jane was about to enter her room, she heard low voices coming from within. She paused, put her ear to the keyhole, and listened. My, I am absolutely exhausted! said a rather old pair of saddle shoes. All morning I was walked through the village by some human. People certainly do not have any consideration for me! I can understand your point of view, said a brand new pair of party slippers, but I am feeling blue because I haven't been worn once, and all I do is sit here day after day alone while the rest of you are being worn and praised by other people. It's a sad life I lead but maybe I'll get my chance some day. My life is a happy one, chimed in the bed- room slippers. I am treated very nicely and I lead a comfortable life. One night the girl who uses me had some friends here to stay over night with her. I met many new friends. Iwould not trade places with any of you. Yes, I agree, replied a pretty pair of flat slippers. You must lead a comfortable life but I believe I have much more fun and excitement. I have visited some very interesting places and also I have been in some embarrassing situations. One day I had to get up in front of a huge group while some person gave a lecture on a subject of which I knew nothing. It can be very embarrassing in front of strangers. Some of your stories are sad, others are not, said a pair of loafing shoes, but I cannot under- stand why all of you worry about such little things. I just take life easy and do whatever comes my way. It is much easier to just loaf than to worry about things all the time, as some of the rest of you do. You might think you lead a very relaxed life, said a fancy pair of pumps, but I prefer to get out into the world and learn something. I have visited many places. One particular place I visited the people talked so differently that I couldn't even understand them. Silly, you were probably in China Town, the bedroom slippers said in a saucy voice. just at this point Mary jane's sister came storm- ing into the house and started arguing with Mary jane. The bedroom door opened but before Mary jane could quiet her sister the shoes had stopped talking. To this day she is not sure who had been talking in the bedroom. Jari-Lynn Cernohlavek, Grade VIII. M gg gg gg, 21 Summer Summer is a dear young girl Who, tripping through the daisies Watches as the buds unfurl And wonders at their beau-ty. She walks alone at still of morn And sings with all the birds, Creates anew small drops of dew And crowns a lowly thorn. This carefree child is the youth of life Who wonders and questions all. Yet there's no trouble or pain or strife, To furrow the smooth young brow- Would years could pass for the gentle lass Like the carefree summertime! Lyn Stephen, Grade XI. Canada Vincent Massey once said that all Canadians should be able to say: I believe in Canada with pride in her past, belief in her present, and faith in her future. What is Canada, that we believe in her, and have faith and pride in her? Canada is the lifeblood of ancient pioneers pouring into great-grand children a heritage in rusty phrases . . . hot-headed young men urging rebellion in tense meetings to change history . . . a lone airplane dropping supplies to an isolated habitant . . . long shafts of light that turn and swing around gloomy prehistoric forest trunks . . . warmth stealing into frostbitten hands over a pot- bellied stove . . . a knot of men repairing boats at a tundra outpost . . . the Union jack waving over a memorial plaque . . . The noise of small musclemen playing cow- boys and Indians with spaceguns . . . a wild hoc- key game with a cold, enthusiastic crowd . . . im- migrants struggling with th and w . . . re- splendent Mounties posing for tourists in the bril- liant mountain country . . . pastel stucco houses with family washings flapping in the back-yards . . . a dominant thunderbird on a Vancouver totem pole gazing moodily out to sea . . . awestruck Eskimos lining a tiny northern hospital for vaccin- ations . . . open cars gracing the lakeshores of Erie and Ontario , . . Ocean liners on the Great Lakes, dwarfing the waterfronts . . . a grubby-faced child and a white- haired gentleman looking at a museum buffalo with equal sadness . . . boom towns springing up in Quebec iron ore country . . . the air of freedom about a bareheaded, contented man standing in a sunlit church . . . cheerful coffee break for hopeful diplomats . . . So many little things go together to make a life a Canadian loves. Each generation instills in the next, the pride, faith, and strength in their nation which marks a Canadian. Brenda Dougall, Grade XI.