Bowmanville High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Bowmanville, Ontario Canada)

Page 97 text:

Grade Nine in' Retrospect I can still remember my first day of high school. I think it was one of the major climaxes of my life. I can recall thinking enthusiastically about that very first morning. It was the first time in my life that I actually got up early to go to school. I had been told so much about this higher institute of learning that I simply could not wait. For me, the words High School spilled over with connotations of many things beautiful. After all, when you were in high school you could wear nylons, carry one of those big binders in your arms, have a purse slung over your shoulder, go to dances, be late for school Without any serious con- sequences, change classes every forty minutes, Ca three 'minute break? talk in class without getting the strap and say things like bio , homeroom , spare and meet me at my locker . To put it bluntly, high school was IN. Of course that first day everybody had new clothes on except for a few radical grade 13'ers. Everyone piled into the auditorium. CThat was another good word? and it was just one great ball of confusion, happiness, fear, noise, laughter, screaming and observation. Of course, Mr. Wolfe calmed us down and not since that day when he started his WELCOMING speech have I heard such a spell of silence at B.H.S. The grade nine homeroom teachers were sitting at the front of the auditorium. I don't know what they were thinking, but I can imagine. I had my own special group of girl friends around me and we were all hoping and praying that we would get in the same room. When finally, we were put into our form we had to march out behind the general four homeroom teacher? like a bunch of disorderly soldiers reluctant to go to battle. Of course we all got lost intentionally and wan- dered all over the place before we found the right room and when we did, the teacher laughed because she thought it was funny and not our fault. After all, we were just 'dumb' grade pines. I remember seeing all those new faces, in my new class, with my new teacher, in a new school. While the teacher gave us a little speech of welcome twhich nobody heard? us kids were looking around the room, eyeing each other to see who was who, so we could remember and tell our friends, who had been parted from us in the auditorium. It was just so exciting. All these different kids and teachers. Just think, a different one for every subject. How could high school ever get boring. tl took that back a few weeks 1ater?. Finally when it was time to go, nobody wanted to. After all, we'd only been there for about an hour. Outside the school everybody was standing in their own little groups, anticipating the next day. That next week was full of new experiences. It was just great to have a locker of your own and you promised yourself you would never tell anybody what your combination was, not even your best friend and then promptly forgot your resolution.

Page 96 text:

A Peculiar Visitor Miss Maple, though eighty-five averred that she felt as young as she ever had and refused to even consider her family's stubborn insistence that she behave with the dignity of a woman her age. They'd been rather upset, poor things, when they'd found her playing hop-scotch with one of the little girls next door. Miss Maple was thankful that they didn't know she'd also ridden the chi1d's bicycle. However, she was sit- ting in a cane rocker today with a blanket about her knees just to show her family that she had some consideration for their feelings. She was fervently hoping for a cool breeze, for she stifled wrapped up in the woollen blanket. As if in answer to her prayers a faint, cool current of air brushed her face. Her bright, inquisitive eyes saw, at the same moment, a tall, slender woman coming up the deserted street. Waiting until the woman was quite close, she called out to her. Hello! The woman turned, looked gravely at her for a moment then slowly mounted the steps of the verandah. Miss Maple threw off her comforter impatiently and gestured a chair to the woman, who accepted it and sat down. . Do have some tea. It's just fresh. Do you take cream or sugar? My, it's so lovely to have a visitor. You know, I've never met you before, but you're very familiar. That blue dress you're wearing is very pretty and I'm sure I remember seeing it before, too. It seems to me I remember seeing you in it when I was a child, but that's impossible, I know. Con- trary to the views of some people, I've not been a child for years. I remember seeing a woman in a blue dress walking along the beach and I do believe she was a friend of Mother's. Here, Miss Maple removed her glasses and looked keenly at her visitor. It could have been your grandmother, I dare say. The woman smiled, but shook her head, Miss Maple put her glasses back on with a sigh. Do forgive my chatter, my dear. Help yourself to some cake or cookies. My, that breeze is delicious. It's stronger now, and so fresh. My nieces and nephews would insist that I put that blasted blanket around me if they know I was out here. According to my niece Marie, a fresh breeze is a chilly draft. Are you visiting here, my dear? The woman shook her head. Coming to live? The woman smiled again and this time nodded. I'm so glad, for you'l1 be able to visit me quite often. Do forgive me for peering at you, child, but you do so remind me of that will o'wisp I saw so long ago. Ah, well, you couldn't be one, you're too solid. Will o'the wisps can't drink, after all, can they? Do you like those pink cakes of mine? It's an old recipe I found in my mother's cookbook. Don't be shy, help yourself, dear. Why, you haven't touched your tea. Is it too strong? Her visitor stood up, a gently, dreamy smile on her lips She looked carefully around her, then learned over to whisper in her hostess' ear. I've come to haunt the place, she said. Debbie Walker 13B

Page 98 text:

I remember my first class was English and we read a myth Cfairy tale as far as I was concernedh. Myths and not grammar as we had taken in public school. Why this wasn't going to be hard at all. In that first class you tried nonchalantly to seat yourself beside your girl friend and beside a boy you thought was O.K. on the other. It became quite a hassle, though when every girl in the room was trying to sit beside her girl friend on one side and a boy they thought was O.K. on the other. What a pattern and what a waste. Everybody got moved soon anyway. The rest of the day was fun too. Imagine having art as a subject and taking it everyday. What with that and fairytales it was almost like starting kindergarten. French was a real riot because nobody un- derstood a thing and most people tend to laugh at things they don't un- derstand, especially foreign languages. The best of all, though was P.T. Imagine going to school so you could learn to take P.T. Actually getting tested on doing somersaults! I couldn't believe it. If this was high school then my grade eight teacher had been all wrong! CI took that back too.D After all, how could you fail a somersault? Another event, I vividly remember with laughter, was initiation day. Of course all of us grade niners groaned and complained and proclaimed loudly that we hated grade 13'ers, but we enjoyed every minute of it. Besides, how often do you get to wear pyjamas to school, or call Mr. Wolfe 'Mr. Fox'? Now how could he possibly get mad at some little kid in pyjamas who made an honest mistake? The initiation dance was the first dance I ever went to and at that time I didn't care if they only had records. I loved it. A grade 13 boy CPaul Parker to be exactl asked me to dance a slow dance with him. It was the first time I had ever danced with a boy and I was very embarrassed Cespecially when I stepped on his footl. However, I felt quite dignified. After all, he was in grade 13 and I was in grade 9. CDid you see ME girls?J That Friday night marked the end of a good week I'm sure for a lot of grade nine kids. We liked this taste of high school, and we all went around the house saying Hbonjour, oui and je suis un eleven fvery impressivel. By the end of the week you had forgotten your promise and everybody you knew, your locker combination and vice versa. After that first week things settled down Ca littlel. You kept on making friends Cor enemies? and you began restraining yourself from letting your new enthusiasm show itself. Especially in front of those grade 10 kids. It just wasn't dignified. As the year progressed there was more than ever to do. You went to your first dance with a boy Cso what if it was the Sadie Hawkins dancel. There were school trips to see movies and other things. I can still remember what we used to do in the girls' change room before and af- ter gym. Actually I think that grade nine for me consisted of activities between classes, before school, noon hours, after school and weekends. There were lots of good times in class too and once in a while a lesson was spell-binding. All I've told about my grade nine life however does not hold true to everybody. If I were to write a story on my second year in high school it would be very different because as things turned out I would have to entitle it My second year in grade nine in retrospect . Mary Tighe, 5B