Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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20 SAMARA titled: H r m tEsr uj mcEg '

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SAMARA 19 We arrived back at school last September full of talk and enthusiasm, and ready (it was hoped) to put our noses back to the old grindstone. We were sorry to miss so many of our old friends, but were very happy to see lots of new faces, especially that of Mrs. Davis, our new house mistress taking the place of Miss Jessop, who unexpectedly got mar- ried last fall. We would like to take this opportunity to thank Mrs. Davis for making it a wonderful year! This year we had two head boarders, Janet Chapman and Bobbie Bradshaw. This was all very well, except that if one of them wasn ' t around telling us to tidy our room, put on our dressing gowns and slippers or just plain hurry up, the other was! So, between them and various mistresses on duty, we did not get away with much— although that was probably more than we deserved!! We have been very busy this year, getting into the usual scrapes and out of them again, and when we weren ' t doing that, skiing (every week-end while the snow lasted), skating (when there was ice) and playing baseball, tennis, basketball and badminton in between times. The average evening was spent in fervent prayers for phone calls, practice by certain individuals in hair styling and teaching of the latest jitterbug steps by our imports from Cornwall. yam BATH W J Forme (li»Ls Other school activities included a picnic to Lac Philippe, on the first Saturday of the year, our annual Christmas dinner followed by a Carol Service at Mrs. Graham ' s house, and the Pyjama Party on the last night before the Christmas Holidays. This was punctuated by a visit from Santa, and refreshments (boarders always seem to welcome food). The Hal- lowe ' en Party was also a great success, and much enjoyed by all. We were happy to see our old friends. Miss Gooderham, Miss MacCallum, Miss Max- well, Mrs. Kilpatrick and Mrs. Soulis again, and we were glad to welcome Miss Miller, Miss Dubrule and Miss Underwood, who, along with everyone else, have helped to make the year a successful one. We were sorry to lose Miss Bagnall (our nurse) who had only been with us since September, soon after Christmas; but we were very lucky to get Miss Colquhoun in her place. Mrs. Duncan- Smith, who came from England, has helped with the juniors since Christmas; and she, too, has been a great asset to the school, especially as she taught the juniors ballet. We would like, in closing, to thank all the staff who have contributed so much towards making the year a happy and successful one.

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SAMARA 21 Senior j£.iieMifi4f SeoUtut Finale The curtains were closed, and the threatre dark, The doors were shut, and the seats were stark, No scenery was up, and the floors were bare, The stage stood alone in want of repair; It thought of those years that had now gone by On a memory clear which never could die. It thought of its actors so famous and great Who played on its floor in that early date; It thought of the plays both great and small Unceasingly given from Spring to Fall; It thought of the beauty of well-known lines. Written by authors of far-gone times. The colour of costumes ornamented and gay. Of every period in the old fashioned day; Long skirts, gold slippers, daggers and tights, All built up the plays to the greatest of heights; But now it lay empty, silent and bleak. Shrouded in sorrow, humble and meek. With the hopes still high for future times, When plays might be given, and pantomimes. And so it stands, proud and haughty indeed. With a beckoning stage some actors might heed. Gillian Neville, V A The Beginning of an Avalanche It was a clear, cold, crisp winter ' s day. The snow was heaped in gleaming white drifts around the cosy little houses, nestled between the sheltering peaks of the surrounding moun- tains. The sun shone high above the white caps of these towering heights, making the snow glisten as millions of tiny diamonds; hazy curls of pale grey smoke drifted lazily from the sturdy red chimneys of the little houses. The blue of the sky made a heavenly background to a calm scene. But then, as one walked across the village square, one became aware of sharp gusts of wind throwing stinging particles of snow into the air and whipping the smoke into ragged shreds. It had been warm and sunny all day and now a wind was blowing; that sudden change of weather often spelt disaster. The few people out at that hour of a cold day began instinctively to hurry towards their homes. The wind began to moan and whistle through the trees and the sun disappeared behind banks of dark and ominous clouds. The wind blew stronger, shrieking its way across the valley, shifting huge drifts of snow. Not a soul was in sight. Then it began. The ominous, rending, ever-growing rumble was heard in the distance; small puffs of snow could be seen rising from the awful mountainside. Then they became a huge swirling mass of snow rushing on downwards toward what destruction it could wreak. Somewhere up on the mountain, directly in the path of this destructive monster, was a tiny shack where one could see the far-off figures of frantic running people. They were trying to escape that ghastly death, but soon the white cloud enveloped them noiselessly and rushed on down, unmindful of the horror it had already created and was on its way to do. The avalanche had begun and nothing short of a miracle could stop it. Susan Brain, V A Something to Remember Soldiers, sailors and airmen died here. They were buried here. In all the seasons. Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring they are remembered. Many live in the memories of strangers, tourists and countrymen. Some dwell in the hearts of relations, friends and loved ones. Others are remembered by fellow soldiers. Almost every day one can see a man or woman walking along the paths, stopping