Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 25 relax and be free; to me it was the most im- portant and exciting afternoon of the week. The theatre was softly dark, huge and enveloping. At the far end I saw the stage; different lights flickered over it and echoing noises came to my ears. Stage settings were being raised, lowered and pushed into place. I slipped into a seat and watched. The manager came out of the wings and talked to the carpenter who was raising some steps to the floor. A man came through and put Gisele ' s gravestone down. Two company boys came in and, using the tombstone as a barre, practised batterie as they read Gisele ' s inscription on the tomb. The incongruity of the woodlike scene and the lounging men struck me. I stood up and walked down the side aisle to the Green Room. The dark exciting at- mosphere changed to a bright, noisy and slightly tawdry one. Tutus were hanging at impossible angles from every projection in sight. I started to change; most of the girls were already in costume for the first act. A voice floated downstairs, First act, Gisele, please , and a stampede charged silently up in answer. I went up a minute later and stood in the wings, Hmbering up as I waited. Our music began. I rose on points and ghded on stage. The soft, warm, welcoming lights surrounded me and I became part of the crowd. I like ballet and anyway it is a novel way to spend Saturday afternoon. Anonymous, VI M Elmwood dans I ' attente du bal annuel C ' est la semaine qui precede la danse. Quelle horreur! Personne ne salt quel gargon inviter. Toutes les pensionnaires veulent se servir du telephone a la fois. Mrs. Davis en devient foUe et les pauvres gar ons d ' Ashburv sont harceles tous les jours par des jeunes filles agitees demandant: Voulez-vous aller a la danse avec moi? lis n ' ont pas la moindre chance d ' y echapper. lis sont lies par I ' hon- neur et la politesse de repondre Oui, merci . Durant la semaine, a table, dans les corri- dors, dans les chambres, partout on cntend Avec qui iras-tu? et la reponse: Je ne sais pas, ou Je ne te le dirai pas . Les pauvres professeurs ne peuvent pas enseigner, car personne ne les ecoute. C ' est terrible! Mais enfin quand vient la nuit fatale, tout est oublie et Ton s ' y amuse foUement. Jane Mulholland, 6 U The Daffodil— Our Emhlem The strong green stem supports a cup of gold. And, stately it stands in a field of green Proud to be part of the world. Proud of its beauty, Proud of its life. And we? We know it as our emblem Green and gold! And, stately we stand. The school our stem— The school our cup of gold. And proud we are of our chance to grow As strong as the green As pure as the gold. M. LiNDLEY Taylor, 6 M A Letter Home Dear Dad, How if every little thing at the hou$e. Hope you are keeping well? I fufpect you could have gueffed the text of thi$ letter wa$ about my impecuniou$ pofition. Well Dad! I hope my report ha$ fuited you. Your$ $incerely, Norman. Dear NOrman: I am sorry to see you are doing NOthing about your school work. I was NOt too pleased with your last NOte but by letters one can NOt judge one ' s son. I trust in the future to see Notable improvement in your studies or NOthing will be done about impecunious position. Yours sincerely. Dad. Beverley Brown, V A

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24 SAMARA The Nightly Battle Loudly up the stairs came father, Threatening in his tread; Now close that book , he said most sternly, And put yourself to bed . Softly down the stairs went father. Evening paper in his hand, She knows she needs eight hours sleep, I wish she ' d understand! Firmly, up the stairs came father. Determination in his eye. Hand me that book , he said in anger. I did, but could not hide a sigh. Hopefully, I looked at father. Standing at the foot of bed, I only had a few more pages. Then the book would have been read . Gently down the stairs went father, Feehng duty had been done; At last he sat in peace with mother. The nightly battle had been won. Elizabeth Bogue, V B Watching the Friendship Log The moon rose like a pale limpid bubble over the dark velvet sky, cut off only by the occasional tall whispering pine. The silver birch on the shore waved in the cool night air to the rhythm set by the waves lapping against the rocky shore. The friendship log in the fire had almost been reduced to ashes and only the thin trickle of smoke drifted like incense toward the sky. Close to the forest edge, silent and still, and at the end of the grove stood two mighty spruce that guarded with paternal vigilance the hidden paths of the wild deer. The only sounds were the heavy breathing of sleeping campers, the odd crackle of the embers in the fire, and the whispering trees, that had many times before sheltered other campers. My four hour watch was up but there was no need to wake anyone else, because the log was still burning as the sun came over the far- off hills. Joy Beverley Brown, V A Winter Skiing down a mountain trail. Sliding down the hills. Sleigh-riding in the country, Are some of Winter ' s thrills. Making snowmen in the snow. Or skating on a pond, Winter is the season. Of which I am most fond. Diana Radcliff, V B Saturday Afternoon It was approximately twelve thirty on what could be considered any Friday night. As I slowly peeled off my tights, I hstened, for lack of anything else to do, to the babble of the dressing room. Couldn ' t get that combination in the , faded into, My toes are so sore , and See you tomorrow , with a rue- ful laugh whenever anyone walked out the door. I did, and as I reached the street I felt the strange letdown which comes when you have given yourself to something com- pletely and it is nearly finished. I thought of what I would be doing to- morrow night at twelve-thirty, the ballet over, crawhng home mentally and physically weary, having thrown my whole being into a bit of a crowd in Gisele and my first solo while the cast changed for Rhapsody in Blue . Crowds —how I hated being a nameless part of a name- less thing called a crowd. My mind, tired as it was, turned to pleasanter things, solos, my first . . . I arrived home in a happy daze, told my mother I would be rehearsing the next after- noon and went to bed. At one o ' clock on Saturday I walked into the theatre. The street outside was filled with people to whom Saturday afternoon meant a release from the week ' s drudgery, a chance to

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26 SAMARA Who Am I? Finding myself in an unusual predicament in the first Chapter of my story and with nothing to do, I amused myself by displaying my knowledge of the centre of the earth. Four thousand miles down, I think . This interest in the centre of the earth was brought about by what I gathered was my rapid descent towards this unknown place. How- ever, I never did reach it, (being brought up short on a pile of dry leaves), but had some surprising adventures instead. The latter in- cluded almost being drowned in a salty sea, having unusual types of growing pains , listening to odd cre atures giving odder recita- tions and so on. My adventures were sud- denly ended when I found myself in the same place my story began. Who am I? Ahce (In Wonderland). Sally Trueman, V B Trial and Error I do not know how much you know about skiing but if you are at all like me, it adds up to just about nothing. Imagine then my hor- ror at finding myself standing at the bottom of a mile and a half chair lift at one of the highest points in the Laurentian Mountains. You may think that coming down a hill is hard, but it took me five minutes to gather up my courage to go up it. Once seated on the rickety green chair, though, things began to look brighter. The view was wonderful and if I did not look down or at the high posts that seemed to pop up in front of me every min- ute, it was rather fun. Finally, after reaching the forty below zero altitude, I slid gracefully oflF the seat and joined the poor imsuspecting guide who was to take our group down the mountain. He explained to us that we would not find the hill, as he put it, too steep if we did snow-plow turns all the way down. We started off and I soon found out that there is a vast difference between doing snow- plow turns on a beginner ' s hill and on the side of a mountain. I did what I considered a prize turn and found myself three inches away from some huge man who was speeding towards me. After a moment of absolute ter- ror I found that I was seated in a huge snow bank, but my fellow skier was nowhere in sight. He, lucky man, was no doubt standing at the foot of the mountain telling his friends about the crazy girl he had nearly run into. Another thing I discovered about skiing is that it is infinitely harder to stop than to start. No matter at what speed I was travelling, I would suddenly find myself completely and absolutely out of control. Tremendous bumps would loom up in front of me, people would speed towards me from all directions, and terror stricken I would shut my eyes and wait for a crash. If no such thing ensued, I would simply do the obvious. That is, I would sit down. Finally bumped, battered and beaten I ar- rived at the foot of the mountain and reached for another tow-ticket. Of course, I was going up again. Margo Freiman, V A Education For Democracy Democracy, so far in history, seems to be the only worthwhile system of free living. Be- cause it is a system of free living it requires great self-control on the part of every indivi- dual, and it is the need for self-control that makes it so difficult. To me, democracy means freedom of speech, thought and self expression through the fine arts. We are free to elect our own government as we see fit, the one elected by the majority being in power, and if for some reason it does not please, we are also free to replace it with another one almost overnight. We are free to ask questions about and investi- gate any branch of our government, national or provincial, and to suggest improvements and changes as we see fit. Democracy, there- fore, gives every man the best possible chance, and imposes no social or caste systems on its people. A man born in the backwoods can, if he has the abihty and the confidence of the