Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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D. M. C. I. BREEZES ?3 PRIDE MUST HAVE ITS FALL “Aw, Dad, for Pete’s sake, can’t you let a fellow have his chum visit him?” Thus pleaded Kit Arden, seriousness wrinkling his hand¬ some young face. “My son,” came the gruff response from the famous millionaire, “will you stop this foolishness? Keep in mind, lad, that you come from the famous Arden family.” With a look of disgust, Kit threw himself into a chair, rumpling his dark hair, and settling down to listen to a “lecture.” “Remember, son,” continued his father, “you have the family name to keep. Imagine! A boy of your wealth and breeding chum¬ ming around with a poor, good-for-nothing, who is working his way through college.” Kit’s face flushed with anger, and springing from his chair, he almost shouted at his father: “Father! You can’t speak of my chum that way! Len’s a great deal better than the boys of my ‘set,’ as you call them. They are idle, happy-go-lucky boys, while Len is a hard¬ working kid, who has had to slave ever since his mother and father died. They get through their exams by the end of their coat-tails, but Len gets results. Just because a person is poor, you think he is no good. I’m sick of this high-hatting business! Tomorrow I’ll be twenty-one, and if Len isn’t allowed to come to the dinner you’re giving, I’m leaving!” Mr. Arden looked up in amazement. His son had never acted in this manner before. Secretly he admired the boy’s spirit, but as he thought of the poorer classes, his anger grew. The only poor people with whom he had come in contact were the men in his factories. He had visited his shops once at noon, and had found groups of greasy, dirty men, eating onion sandwiches, and using poor grammar and profanity. He forgot that these men were helping him acquire his millions, and that many of them had higher morals than his wine-drink¬ ing, cigarette-smoking men. “My boy, you are exicted,” he said, as Kit slumped back into his chair, head in his hands. “Drop your friend. Let him chum around with boys of his own class! ’ ’ Again resentment stirred in the boy’s face. “Class! Class! That’s all you think about. Len’s as good as I am—better! He is working his way through college; I’m having my path of labours paved for me. Again I tell you—and 1 was never more serious—that if Len isn’t at that dinner, I’m leaving, and I’ll work my way through, too. Then I’ll be in the same class, as you call it, that Len is in.” “Well, do what you please! This Len is not coming! I have sent all the invitations I intend to, and I am going to issue special instruc¬ tions to the servants, that no young man is to enter this house tomorrow without an invitation card.” Kit rushed from the room, giving the door a good slam, which did not lessen his anger (or his father’s either). He stamped upstairs,

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22 D. M. C. I. BREEZES the pupils themselves. Such a system will thus foster the proper school spirit and develop the students’ sense of honor and responsibility, at the same time showing the similarity of school experiences to those of later life. So long as there is an unwilling minority on the part of either teachers or pupils the project will not succeed. Successful student gov¬ ernment depends on the co-operation of the pupils and teachers of the system, working together for a constructive programme which will pro¬ vide an opportunity for all students to develop initiative—the ability to co-operate, elsewhere—and to have proper respect for law. Students councils make an excellent laboratory for teaching civics. The term “student council’’ as here used, presupposes a definite organi¬ zation existing primarily to share in school administration. This also includes student participation in government—a tendency which is rapidly increasing in the majority of educational institutions, with apparently satisfactory results. The interest exhibited in the student participation in government of our high school during the past year portrayed a greater degree of loyalty than probably never before witnessed. At the beginning of the school term each year, expedite arrangements, perpetuating the form of government have been analyzed. Under the guidance of the teachers and principal, councils were elected by the method advocated by our elders. The principal, of course, has veto power in any measure the councils undertake. However, those responsible for the administration of schools no doubt realize the possibilities that school government affords for the boys and girls to become intelligent, democratic citizens. After all, the question which conies to every student is—what value is student gov¬ ernment? At the present minute this country needs nothing so much as it needs thousands of well-informed men and women, who are anxious to see Canada fulfil her destiny as one of the richest and most powerful nations. Thus it behooves every school to maintain a firm stand and to do everything in its power to support our Dominion, because the “whole” of anything is made up of individual parts and must be supported by them. The greatest good rendered by any student council is its pro¬ paganda movement—its aid in promoting activities and thus training pupils in leadership and responsibility, which is evidence of the delevop- ment of self-confidence and self-assertion. There is probably no better aid in interpreting and moulding school opinion than through the agency of student councils. Because of the trend of modern thought—because of the nature of our govern¬ ment, student government will continue to grow as the result of sincere spirit manifested. -—Margaret Junkin, Room 22. Little Lucy—“Why do you put powder on your face, Aunty?” Auntie—“To make me pretty, dear.” Lucy—“Then why doesn’t it?”

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24 D. M. C. I. BREEZES thumping as loud as he could. Slamming his bedroom door, he threw himself on his bed and tried to figure things out. What could he do? He knew that if Len met his father, everything would be fine. Len was liked by all, and was always the centre of attraction. Anything Len did, was done in turn by the “freshies,” for the seniors were too haughty and proud to follow anyone’s lead. If he could only think of some way to get Len into the house. Finally he gave up in despair, and got himself ready for bed. In the middle of the night Kit woke up to find the rain coming in bis open window. Jumping out of bed, he pulled it down, feeling none the dryer. As he stood there in the darkness, with the pitter-patter of the rain in his ears, he thought of Len—poor Len, who would have to get up at six and feed the enormous mouths of the school furnaces. Suddenly an idea came to him, and it received as royal a welcome as a ship would have received from a shipwrecked sailor. Kit felt he couldn’t keep his secret, and pulling on a bathrobe and slippers, he crept into his mother’s room. Timidly he woke her, and told her his plan. Mrs. Arden was enthusiastic, and although she felt she would be deceiving her husband, she agreed to play her part. The next morning brought Kit downstairs with a sunny face, which he immediately altered to a sullen one on entering the dining room. “Well, son how are you? You should look happy on your twenty- first birthday.” “Yes I should,but I’m not, Pater; for the last time, are you letting lien come tonight?” “No!” “All right,” Kit murmured. “Pride must have its fall.” As it was Saturday, Kit made straight for Len’s room in a cheap boarding-house, and told the boy his plan. “Why, Kit! I had no idea your father didn’t want me in your home,” Len declared. “Well, old pal,” Kit blushed and looked down, “Dad has queer notions, and 1 want you to change them. Are you going to help me?” “Sure thing, partner,” Len agreed. Accordingly two happy boys visited several shops and then re¬ turned to Len’s room. “It’s up to you now, Len,” Kit said, and seeing that everything was ready, he left. Down the street he went, hands in pocket, shoulders thrown back and whistling. At lunch Kit’s face had again that gloomy, sullen look. The meal began in silence and would have probably continued in silence, had not the dining room door suddenly burst open, and an old man hobbled in. His shoulders were stooped, his face wrinkled, his hair grey. “Mr. Arden, you are a thief! You’ve stolen my shares in your company. I demand-”