Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

Page 31 text:

S A Ad A R A 29 arising from man ' s thinking too highly of him- self , while another thought of it as an es- tablished conviction of one ' s own paramount worth in some particular respect . This, of course, is all very true, but to me pride is something more— something I can ' t quite explain or understand. Often, while in a pensive mood, I have pondered whether pride is good or evil, and, after much deliberation, 1 have decided that it can be both. Pride is something that keeps us from apologizing to a friend after doing something wrong and hurting the other ' s feelings. There- fore, pride can cause pain and unhappiness. This is what was meant by Elizabeth Morrow when she said: My friend and I have built a wall Between us thick and wide: The stones of it are laid in scorn And plastered high with pride. But, naturally, this is not the only type of pride. I am sure that we have all been told at one time or another to take pride in our ap- pearance . This does not mean that we should feel superior simply because we may have longer eyelashes or a better figure than some- one else, but to keep ourselves tidy and respectable in appearance. Some people are proud of themselves be- cause they were born with white skin, or their great-grandfather was a famous statesman. This is not true pride, but conceit and narrow- mindedness. People can be justly proud of themselves only when they have accomplished something worth-while by themselves, not when an ancestor did it. Many misunderstand what pride is. They think that it is snobbish- ness and conceit, while it is nothing of the sort. When a job is well done it is only natural to feel proud and satisfied and I can see no sin in this. Each and every one of us has pride, whether we admit it or not. If there were no such thing as pride, what kind of people would we be? I think the answer is that we would be weak- minded, unsatisfied and ashamed of all our accomplishments and belongings. By this I do not mean that we should look down our noses at people less fortunate than ourselves, but that we should realize our good and bad qualities. At all times we should remember that pride goes before a fall and that none of us is in- fallible. In fact, the Bible says: Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. Through pride we gain self-confidence, which helps us in every way to better our personalities. If we take pride in our work, when a mistake is made we are all the more anxious to correct it. Therefore, pride can be a virtue as well as a sin. I think Alexander Pope was only par tially correct when he said: Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man ' s erring judgment and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Dorian Ellis, 5C. Ghosts I Should Like to Meet Most people nowadays say there are no such things as ghosts. But they ' re wrong. Of course there are ghosts; very interesting ones too. I ' d love to meet a ghost— not just any ghost but one that had background and personality. For instance, I ' d like to meet Marie Antoinette, the last French queen. Beautiful, ill-fated and the pampered bride of a charming, spineless king, her story would be one to hear. The first hand story of one of the bloodiest and most famous of all revolutions, the Reign of Terror , would be fascinating, especially if told by one of its direct causes. For Marie Antoinette, lovely as she was, certainly was the irrationally extravagant woman who, to pay for her fabulous clothes, jewels and whims, necessitated the raising of taxes, causing the poor people of Paris to be brought down to the level of starvation. But she died a miserable death at the hand of another famous lady, Madame le Guillotine.

Page 30 text:

28 SAMARA The Storm It was a few minutes past noon. The water lay still in an uneasy calm. Then, like a child awaiting his first snowfall of the season, it began to grow impatient. Small angry ripples began to form and then rapidly they de- veloped into turbulent waves. The water began to swell and it htoked as if it w ould break loose from the invisible bonds that held it in place. The waves were crowned with white-caps which appeared to be mocking the murky waters with twisted grins. The crashing noise made by the waves was like an orchestra with- out a conductor in which all the instruments were playing as loudly as possible. Suddenly the waters began to tire of their sport and diminished quickly into small sleepy ripples which lapped gently against the shore. Peace had returned and once again the ocean slept. Brigid Martland, 6M. The Longest Day I Can Remember The year is 2050. I have just been sent up by the Royal Canadian Air Force Time Machine Division, so here I am, floating out over the gigantic map of hundrdes of yeai ' s ago and the not too distant past. In 1961 I can see the first struggling efl: ' orts of the Russians and the Americans to try to put one human being on the moon. How silly can you get! The moon ' s only a short distance away from us! Now we have settlements in Mars, Venus, Saturn, and a small colony on the Sun. Oh well, struggling young scientists will be like that! 1920 was really a fabulous time it seems. The Charleston looked like fun, but it must have taken an awful lot of energy to do it for very long. I love the dresses they wore, with all the fringes on them. They were the rage again quite a while ago, I believe, in 1983. 1890 seemed to be a time when children had to be very well disciplined. The high- buttoned shoes and starched white collars really looked smart though. Suddenly my time machine jerked or some- thing and I went back a while longer. I saw some poor man with his head in a wooden contraption. I left before I saw anything, but I can guess what happened. I saw colourful gypsies in their caravans, noisy markets in tiny villages, men ploughing their rich, brown fields, and many other in- teresting things, as I flew over this wide map of history. It was so interesting that I just hated to leave, but when the small purple button next to me banged the chime which signified I must leave, I was not really too sorry to go. I guess I ' m just an old homebody. The day seemed long because I went so far back into history, but if I ' m ever called to do it again, I think I would. Would you? Debbie Duval, 5C. Christmas One thing we can be sure of on Christmas Day is a full-scale battle between the turkey and my father, with odds on the turkey. Father plans the attack first by sharpening his sword. Next he surveys the property and picks the quickest and easiest way through, so he thinks. However, the turkey is a wise bird and keeps himself in good shape— full of sinews. The sword is plunged into the enemy but it recoils from the tough mass it hits. Father strikes again and yet again, but alas, the sword is blunt. It is sharpened to an extremely fine point. After several attacks and retreats— a victory! One drumstick is Hfted carefully from the platter and placed on the plate by a beam- ing head of the family. Judith Carter, 5A. Pride What is pride? According to the dictionary it is in- ordinate self-esteem or a high and overweening opinion of one ' s own qualities, attainments or estate . One man defined it as a pleasure

Page 32 text:

30 SAMARA Another ghost, this time a twentieth cen- tury ghost, who would be interesting to run into on a dark, wild night, is Adolf Hitler. He was indirectly responsible for an unaccountable number of miUions of deaths through another whim, to rule the world. But credit must be given to Hitler for the way in which he rose from a poor farm boy to a man who overran about half of Europe in pursuit of his ambi- tions. But I would really like to meet a ghost who was filmy white and had bony hands, in a dark haunted house. The wind would be blow- ing, making a loose shutter bang back and forth creating a deathly echo. My dream ghost would float through a wall and with a blood curdling scream I would tear out of the house, never to return— just as they do in books. Caroline Nicholson, 5B. Making a Dime Go a Long Way One morning three years ago, I opened my eyes slowly, due to the strong sun streaming in my window. I remembered that today was the day I got my allowance. At this time I did not think ten cents was nearly enough money, but it did get me through the week once in a while. This week I decided to try and get more out of my dime than usual. Starting down the street I met my friend, Julie, with her new doll. Looking at the doll I suddenly fell in love with her, and I asked Julie if she would like my dime for her doll. At the time we did not know the value of money, and Julie said it would be all I ' ight if I took good care of the doll. 1 thanked her and taking the doll in my arms, walked down the street smiling happily. As I went past the Junkyard, I saw a small white kitten sitting on a clump of grass. I hoped that someone had left it there because he did not want it. An idea of making another exchange struck me. I kissed the doll, and sat her on a mattress. I picked up the kitten, and walked home. After that I thought that I ' d made a dime go a long way. VicKi Sainsbury, 4B. Doomsday It was seven o ' clock. She had only an hour. An hour until doomsday. She began pacing up and down nervously. Her stomach was not feeling its best as she had hardly a bite to eat all day. She realized she must get a hold of herself. Others had done it before her and had lived through it. It would only last a few hours and then she could return to her cozy bed which looked more inviting than ever at that moment. Seven-thirty— another half-hour. Her throat felt dry. Perhaps she was becoming sick and would not be able to go through with it. Then suddenly there was a ring at the door. She heard footsteps coming slowly up the stairs. Then a voice cried out— Susan, he ' s here. She took a deep breath and walked downstairs, feeling like a condemned prisoner going to execution. It was her first date! Margot Toller, 6M. The Road at Night I was told never to go near the road at night. Of course, when a child is told not to do a thing, she immediately has the desire to do it. I am a typical child. The night was warm as I started out on my explorations. A gentle breeze whispered to the trees, who shook their branches with laughter. Upon the dew-tipped grass the moon cast its image. Crickets chirped monotonously and an occasional grumph was heard from a disgruntled frog. Feeling the eeriness of the road as I walked along, I began to whistle rather tunelessly. My whistling, however, contrasted awkwardly with the silence of the road, so I stopped. At once I heard a small tinkling of a bell and the distant rumble of wheels. Quickly I darted behind a hedge. The scene before me was one of enchant- ment. A fairy caravan was being pulled by a little bay pony, who pranced gaily and shook his head as he pulled the caravan down the lane.