Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 29 ke Slmiuood Ball SOME sage has wisely said Everything comes to him who waits , and this truth has aptly been proved this year, when Elmwood held its first formal dance in ten years. When we re-assembled for another school year in September, the chief plank in the platform of the new officers was An Elm- wood formal . Needless to say, the school body was in unanimous approval, and with such a strong surge of popularity, what could go astray? Months before the great event committees were formed and as the days flew by, the decorating committee began to tear its hair. Then came another more world-shaking ques- tion: I say old thing, have you got a partner? Corridors resounded with the perennial cry, and one disconsolate lass was known to set a new record by ' phoning ten unattached boys in one evening. At last this crisis too was set- tled by the calm, unhysterical officers who re- fused to let this small problem shake them, and rose majestically to meet the occasion, pro- ducing men out of hats, as it were. Finally came D-day: classes were got through by the studious who deigned to at- tend, and somehow 6.00 p.m. arrived. In the boarding school rigid bath schedules were posted by grim-faced monitors, which were carried out (the schedules that is) with hardly any mishaps. Seniors waded through fields of small Juniors who demanded the dubious hon- our of helping(?). In spite of this aid, all the girls were dressed by 9.00, and floated down- stairs with palpitating hearts. The escorts waited below in the hall, and after moving through the receiving line, walked slowly into the ballroom! What a transformation! Horses, ropes and rings were pushed aside, and the hall was instead adorned with trees, tinsel and imitation snow. Girls smiled condescendingly as their escorts stopped at the door, open- mouthed with amazement. Such a spectacle had not been seen before within the portals of Elmwood. As the evening passed, to the haunting strains of Al Costi ' s orchestra, many escorts were heard to murmur that Elmwood had in- deed surpassed itself. Then, all too quickly came 1.00, and as the King was sounded, to the graduating class came the realization that the long-awaited event had finally taken place and all was over! Before With nervous trepidation And anxious preparation And romantic inclination And our ball gowns neatly hooped— After With corsages hanging limply And our poor feet killing— simply, Our sweet faces smeared and pimply. We look absolutely — pooped!

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28 SAMARA Jacqueline {Workman) Hyland has also brought credit to Elmwood dramatic training by her outstanding performance in several of the Canadian Repertory The- atre plays. Though not a member of the regular company, she joins them occasion- ally to play a leading part. Ami Cameron has also been with the Canadian Repertory Theatre all winter. Here she has proved herself an excellent actress and given many of us a we knew her when— feeling. We were duly proud to read in a recent programme write-up of her: Her first interest in drama was developed here in Ottawa at Elmwood School. Abroad Diana Gill is studying at the Sorbonne. Claire Perley-Robertson and Ann Powell are going over to Europe together this spring. Ogden Blackburn is going on an extended tour with her mother. 3n iWemoriam ELIZABETH BURROUGHS SIFTON Betty Sifton ' s untimley death came as a great shock to us all. At assembly the morning after the news had been received, the staff and present girls stood for a brief period in silent tribute to her memory. Mrs. Buck spoke of Betty Sifton ' s great contribution to Elmwood. An exceptional student and an outstanding Head Girl, her qualities of leadership were an influence for good throughout the school. She will be remembered too as having composed the words of the school song. After specializing in languages at the University of Toronto, she travelled widely in Europe and North America. During recent years she lived in New York where she was, for some time, editorial writer for the New York Post. At the time of her death she was engaged in writing a book on political theory. Proud of being an Elmwoodian, Betty never lost touch with her old school and only last Christmas Mrs. Buck received her usual message of greeting. Courageous and vital always, the memory of her intrepid spirit will live on in the hearts of all who knew her.

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30 SAMARA Prize-Winning Story in Story Competition McDonald rose heavily from his chair before the old stove and limped across the room to the diminishing pile of wood. Then, laden with two heavy logs, he returned to his position in the chair and, pushing the logs into the fire, leaned back with a sigh of contentment. McDonald was contented. He was, al- though isolated from all civilization, happy to spend his old age in this northern outpost, trapping during the winter and, in the sum- mer, selling his furs. He had been secretly glad when, upon awaking that morning, he had found that he could not go to his traps because of the blizzard that raged outside— the blizzard that blocked the very passage from his door to the wood-shed not thirty feet away. But now he looked at the few meagre logs remaining in the corner of his shack. He remained a few minutes more by the stove, but suddenly realizing that he was falling asleep, he pushed himself up from the chair and hobbled over to his coat. It was only by the exercise of a great deal of determina- tion, and also by reminding himself of the fact that he would freeze if his fire went out, that McDonald decided to brave the storm to fetch the badly-needed logs for the fire. With a last longing look into the room, he thrust open the door, only to be met with a steel- cold blast from the north. And it was with great difficulty that he was able to pull it closed behind him— to preserve what heat there was left in the cabin. Once out in the fury of the storm, he attempted to walk in the direction of the shed, but was beaten back against the door. He was preparing to fight his way through the storm when the awful truth dawned on him. He had left the key to the door inside the cabin! His heart beat faster now, and his breath- ing became more difficult. With trembling hands he tried the handle— and in vain. He threw his weight against the door. Again and again he tried, but to no avail. It had been built to withstand the terrific strain of the wind and could be opened by no mean force. Slowly he made his way around to the side of the cabin, the side where the window was. It was high and small but McDonald in his torment thought of it as a possible entrance to the hut. But upon reaching it he found that he could only touch the bottom of the indentation by jumping. After several frenzied jumps and clawings to reach the window, he fumbled his way around to the door again. His one hope now lay in getting to the shed and lighting a fire there. The snow was deep and the wind swept it with such furious gusts that the shed was now completely hidden. Slowly he worked his way through the drifts in its direction, but the snow made passage almost impossible. He tried to keep walking into the wind as the shed was in that direction, but it seemed to him that the course of the wind kept changing and as a result he now found himself com- pletely lost. Now as his steps faltered, the piercing cold penetrated his clothing. He knew he must keep moving, for to stop would mean certain death. Driving himself onward, he fought desperately to overcome the exhaustion that threatened to draw him into a sleep. Groping through the drifts he finally stumbled and