Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 33 The Horror of Montague The old house loomed up at the end of the long drive; it seemed to look even gloomier and larger than usual in the twilight. Its sepulchral outHnes melted into the dark poplars and jackpines surrounding it, making it a soHd, impervious black mass. We alighted gingerly from the car, glad to be free of its small confines. We all stood in a group not sure what to do next. Roger spoke first: You chaps, he said, go on in and make yourselves at home. We laughed at his weak parody of a joke. A4ake ourselves at home in a haunted house? Indeed!! Well, we finally went in together with our bags and paraphernalia. All had on their bravest smiles, but I noticed Roger ' s grin was becom- ing strained around the edges, as were all our smiles. Roger crept up the decrepit stairs first, making a lot of noise as if to scare away anything that might be up there. Then I came, more scared than anything else, but deter- mined to be jaunty. Then Tim, my brother; then, at the rear, Pete, our erstwhile driver. We all had the same purpose— to spend the night in the haunted house. We laid out our sleeping bags and other things on some old sagging cots we found on the second floor, then explored around. I began mentally reviewing the reasons we had come here. It was mostly to prove to our parents that we could really be on our own. We all thought it would be a great lark. On exploring we found nothing except a few old dusty stones which Pete, being an anthropo- logist, found interesting. The house itself was a cavernous old building, dilapidated and crumbhng, its once splendid rooms dim and dusty. The gay frescoes on the walls had almost faded into nothingness. The rooms gave the impression of unending grey caverns untouched by light for years un- counted. We ate our supper of bully beef sand- wiches, -slightly dusty-, boiled eggs and tea with great gusto in spite of inner trepidations. Tim carefully wrapped up all our leftovers and put them in his knapsack though there wasn ' t much to be had. It was dark now and our flashlights cut through the darkness with strong, steady beams that lighted the walls and ceilings with curves and spirals. Pete and Roger crawled into their sleeping bags. Tim and I were elected to go downstairs and out to fetch water for the morning. We went down and closed the door behind us; that was the last time we saw Peter alive! This is what we gather happened. They heard a noise and Peter went down to investi- gate. He did not come back and Roger, be- coming worried, followed him. We heard a scream. Tim went inside and I got in the car and went for help. I returned with the police. Inside Peter was lying half way under the stairs, his head severed from his body. Tim had calmed Roger and he was taken by the police to his home. The murderers did not get far. They con- fessed that, when Peter had discovered their hidden jewels, they lured him downstairs by a noise, then killed him because he knew too much. Roger came down, and let out the scream that we had heard. Tim and I stood there dazed until our father came and led us away. What a ghastly ending . . . but how could we have known . . . ? Mary Findlay, Form 5B. Farewell to School As I took a parting glance at the old grey building that had been my home for so many years, I could not suppress a tear or two from creeping to my eye. The sun, shedding its soft, bright rays on the gathered graduates seemed to accentuate the glistening tears on their cheeks and the heaviness of their hearts, hidden beneath the new white gowns. All had been my comrades through the years of study and play. Now we were separating, each on her own path of life, and adventuring forth to what the future might hold in store. Flitting through my mind flew many of the pleasant memories that those ivy-covered walls held for me. The beautiful spring and

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32 SAMARA The Tyranny of Fashion Among teen-agers as well as grown people, the tyranny of fashion is felt. Fashion maga- zines are selling as fast as political ones, and no newspaper is without its fashion adviser . The Lady cannot go out, for her coat has stuffed shoulders, or because her shoes don ' t have the latest cut. The dress she bought last year is absolutely useless, because the neck- line is wrong. She will spend her last cent on new clothes. The teen-ager cannot go to school because his jeans look too new, or his leather jacket doesn ' t have creases in the sleeves. The girl must have a pair of saddle shoes and a big scarf. But mother, every- body has one! is the usual cry. The teen- agers, still so insecure and in need of feeling they belong to a group, would rather die than go dressed differently from the gang. It has not always been so. The fashions before the first World War did not change so quickly, and it was not so essential to be dressed exactly according to the fashion. Another difference is the rise of the teens. In the beginning of the century they were considered children, but today they are scrutinized by psychologists, and have realized their importance. They claim a special pos- ition in society. So the teen-age fashion has become very important. I believe that there are two main reasons why fashion has become as tyrannical as it is today. One is the development of communication of news between people. We have movies, radio, and newspapers to tell us what is happening in the world. Therefore the wo- man knows it the following day when Dior has stated that the skirts are to be longer. She can more easily follow what is happening. In earlier days, people in a community dressed alike, and now the whole world is a community. The fashion centres dictate, and the people obey. The other reason is democracy. Equality has given us the feeling that it is absolutely necessary to be dressed just like everyone else in order to be equal. Everyone has the right to be equal, and therefore must be equal, some people think. The We must live up to the Jones ' feeling arises. There is a great middle class everywhere, and the people of this class seem to think that there is only the choice of being a slave to fashion or a social outcast. The tyranny of fashion is playing with the whole world, and making fools of us. Every- one must be alike, not only in dress, but also in speech and manners. Social conformity is starting to be a problem in the world of to- day, and certainly the tyranny of fashion is the cause. Helena von Numers, Form 6U. A Sad Dog One would think that dogs really under- stand their owner ' s thoughts. Last Good Fri- day, our beagle dog, only a year old, had to be killed. We were all sad, but the dog too seemed to realize that something was amiss. His usually, pert curly tail was dropping, and when he wagged it, it was not the same cheer- ful swishing as on other days, but a slow wag as if it were an effort to be happy. His large eyes had a look which made his whole face reflect the sadness which was in our own thoughts. He didn ' t run and jump but lay quietly at our feet, as if he knew he was staying with us for the last time. Pamela Moore, Form 6jM. Sunrise The sky is grey and birds are sleeping, But see! A ray of light comes creeping. Yonder over there it gleams And sheds a light on Childrens ' dreams. Another and yet another still Comes shining o ' er the distant hill. And now the sun comes into sight To banish shadows of the night. It brightens skies to a pastel shade Of blues and greens which soon will fade To colours of a rosy hue Which start the day to life anew. Jane Rowley, Form 5B.

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34 SAMARA fall days spent walking through the extensive grounds, warm summer days studying by the brook, dance evenings filled with streamers and misty gowns, and last but not least, Bootsy, our house mother, who, for all her lisles and stiff collars, had a kind, sympathetic heart ready to receive problems of any sort. A4ost any night a light could be seen in her room and the shadow of two heads talking, crying or laughing together, regardless of the hour. iMaybe the most precious memory was that of the chapel, hidden away midst a grove of pines. The quiet, inspiring services held each Sunday seemed to start and end the weeks in a wonderful way. The sweet notes of the choir which floated over the fresh morning- air, praised God and thanked Him. In my heart now, I thanked Him again for helping me through the important years here, that would stand by me in years to come. With one final glance, I brushed back a tear, bade farewell to my friends, and picked up my case. This was my start on a new life, and my farewell to school. Linda Chauvin, Form 5B. Spring Spring is here; the grass is green; The farmers against their fences lean, A plowing their fields in the bright summer sun. At five o ' clock their work is done. The children are playing out in the street In bright summer dresses all clean and neat. The church bells are ringing, far and near; Winter has gone; Spring is here. Sandra Moffat, Form 5C 2. Pen Pal Two years ago, I wrote an essay on Can- adian school Hfe that was published in a Japanese youth newspaper. The result was that letters poured in from scores of Japanese teenagers, asking me to write to them, and expressing a desire to communicate with some- one in the western world. I even got a letter carefully written in Japanese! The letter below, written in a fine, upright hand on very dainty paper, is from a thirteen year old school girl who writes to me regu- larly. Vicky Brain. 3-15 Kitabata-cho Nakamura-Ku Nagoya January 22 Dear Vicky Thank you very much for your Christmas card. It is very fine. Now I did my worst. I am ashamed my- self. I ' m sorry that I didn ' t write to you for long. From now on I will write to you in simple English at least once a month. Now I am working hard so that I may pass the examinations. The examinations (en- trance examinations) begin on the 17th of March. Our teachers said, You need not be afraid of examinations if you study your every day lessons well. But I am afraid. The examination is drawing near. Now, I ' ll write about Japanese education. In Japan children go to school for the first time when they are six (seven) years old. All the people of Japan are under compulsory education. Children grow in the right direc- tion under the teacher ' s guidance at school. The education system in Japan has changed very often. Co-education has prevailed after the war. And school facilities have been im- proving gradually. I will write about Journey. Your friend, V. SUMI.