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

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1st Prize Poetry People say, I understand When they haven't thought for years. People say, I'm sorry But they don't shed any tears. People say, I thank you But their faces wear no smile. People say, How are you? With thoughts elsewhere the while. People say, Too bad When really they do not care. People say, I like it When it hasn't got a prayer. People say, I love When the gift they bring is woe. People say, I'll see But the answer will be, 'No.' Merry Bridges 3A Memories Its desks are nearly shambles, Its shades and blinds are torn, Because of age it trembles And seems to be forlorn. In every room the plaster Is either chipped or cracked, But we'd have to write much faster To name the things they lacked. The students - we attract them With Yearbooks, and it's true, That Frango, Frangere, Fregi, Fractum He crushed the head of who? We come to all the games, And cry, Go Redmen Go! And every team we play we shame, It's worth it for C.O.S.S.A., though. But now the time is here When we must pack our books And leave this place so dear For one with better looks. Carole VandeMeent 3B

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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

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2nd Prize Poetry The Lady, the House, the Wall A grand old house that stood behind a wall Of stone, when we were young and liked to play And shout, just caught our fancy, one and all. We jumped and hopped around that Wall all day. Now in this house there lived a kind old soul, She used to give us snacks and watch us foll. Oh yea, we thought that she was really cool! But then her many years just took their toll. Some men with brand new housing plans just bought The fine old house and wall, and that was that. The wrecking crews began to work a lot, And on one day I walked just past this lawn I realized, the house, the wall gone. By Mark Elliott 3B The Black Orchid I lie awake sometimes at night Wondering why I wasn't born white. Black is beautiful, some people say. But from every job I'm turned away. I've gone to college and learned my trade But I'm still called a colored spade . People I meet stop and stare, Call me names - but I don't care. I stand tall among the crowd Black's my colour and I am proud. Terri Embree 1B Mark I went to see Mark today, I felt I should have gone. He might as well have been shackled, With apathy holding the key. The spark in his life Long since extinguished Not by the tears But by the spit. His castrated soul Sleeping now, forever. As I left I smiled at Mark . . . It was all I could do. But why do I feel like a hypocrite? Chris Terhune 3A