Kennedy Collegiate Institute - Kencoll Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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6 THE KENCOLL 1941 ..... OUR TEACHING STAFF Back row, left to right: Mr. W. S. Day, Mr. R. R. Deagle, Mr. H. J. Riggs. Mr. G. Letourneau, Mr. G. Farrell, Mr. T. D. Walter, Mr. W. M Ryan (Vice-Principal), Mr W. H. Downey, Mr. H. Laframbolse, Mr. M. Thomson. Third row, left to right: Mr. G. Chapman, Mr. E. W. Fox, Mr. K. Beckett, Mr. K. S. Wills, Mr. A. F. S. Gilbert (Principal). Mr. B. Brown, Mr. J. Lowden, Mr. M. Wass, Mr. F. D. Knapp. Second row, left to right: Miss B. Fuller, Miss C. Burford, Miss W. Cuddy, Miss S. K. Bristol, Miss P. Bondy, Miss D. Janes, Miss A. Noonan. Front row, left to right: Mrs. H. Hagarty, Miss G. Stewart, Miss D. Weston, Miss C. E. Hewitt, Miss C. Vrooman, Miss A. Savage, Miss D. Hope. THE KENNEDY CADET CORPS Last Fall the first cadet corps in many years was formed at Kennedy. Under the guidance of Mr. Chapman the fundamental functions of cadet work were begun. However, before much could be done, winter cut short outdoor drill work and further drilling was postponed until Spring. Now that warm weather has returned, the boys are again drilling regularly. We may hear a lot of groans and moans on the campus, but the only way to be ready for any emergency is to be pre¬ pared. Signal Corps The Signal Corps has been forging steadily for¬ ward. Of late a great deal of work, under the watchful eyes of Mr. Beckett, has been success¬ fully accomplished. Signal flags were received from London late last Fall and kept the work progressing until electrical apparatus could be obtained. Since several keys and receivers are now in operation, the boys in this division are among the most enthusiastic in the school. Officer’s Class Requiring experienced officers for the cadet corps, Mr. Chapman organized an officers’ class which meets every Wednesday noon. Those who attend are taught army movements and how to teach them to others. These boys have become proficient in their movements; so much so of late that a large crowd of admirers has been crowding into the gymnas¬ ium and around the campus to watch them drill. Their snappy appearance and skill in manoeuvres show the great deal of work Mr. Chapman has done in so short a time. Now that the cadet corps is drilling again, there should be less work for Mr. Wills as the work will be fairly distribut¬ ed among the officers. Bugle Band Kennedy’s Bugle band several years ago was known throughout the country for the way it went about capturing all the trophies. One glance at the showcase in front of the library is enough to convince anyone that nothing was too great a task for this band. However, the band vanished and did not appear again until this year. Now, once again, Kennedy has blossomed forth and produced a bugle baud that could bring houour to the school in any competition. Lately it has been playing for the officers’ class and under competent guidance has shown that it will be a worthy successor to Kennedy’s former out¬ standing bugle bands. ON KENNEDY!

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THE KENCOLL 1941 9 FOOTBALL COACHES - - - AND OTHERS By Elsie Patterson “It ' s a hap-hap-happy day,” sang a voice muffled by the sound of the shower running at full force. Bill Morton, freshman at Greenwood College, had awakened that Saturday morning with one thought in his mind— this was to be his great day. Three minutes sufficed for the shower, five for dressing, and barely thirty seconds to bound down the stairs to breakfast. Bill gulped down his cereal and toast as fast as it was served to him by Mrs. O’Riley, proprietress of “The Greenwood Boarding House”, which offered special rates for students. “Sure, I can’t imagine why you’re in such a hurry,” Mrs. O’Riley exclaimed as Bill swallowed his last bite. ' ‘You’ll have chronic indigestion before you arc a day older, if you eat your meals at that rate.” It was that dear woman ' s peculiar pleasure to regale her boarders with sad tales about the weak stomachs that had been the plague of her family from the begin¬ ning of time. She was about to enter upon a vivid de¬ scription of Uncle William’s latest symptoms, for Bill’s benefit; the latter decided that an explanation of his haste would save time and avoid embarrassing comparisons. “There is a very- important football practice at the stadium this morning,” he began. “The coach told one of the fellows that 1 have a t airly good chance of being chosen for the starting team for the next game. It isn’t often that a first-year man is taken off the bench so early in the season.” Mrs. O’Riley beamed with pride as she congratulated Bill. She was as proud of her boarders’ successes as any mother would be of her own children’s achievements. Then the boy made a dash towards the front door. He reappeared in the dining room a moment later. “I forgot to tell you that I won’t be here for lunch. There is going to be a dinner at the college refectory. It is an annual affair, and Coach Cook, a graduate of Greenwood, is coming from Toronto to be the special guest.” As he started on his way again, lie was interrupted by the door bell ringing. “I’ll sec who it is,” he shouted to Mrs. O ' Riley. “Telegram for William Morton,” were the words that greeted him when he opened the door. Bill signed for it; he read the message on the slip of yellow paper sev¬ eral times, as if he could not grasp its meaning. Mrs. O’Riley came into the hall. “Is something wrong. Bill?” she asked when she saw his dejected countenance. “Mother is arriving in town this morning on the 10:30 train. I shall have to meet her. of course,” he replied. The tone of his voice revealed Bill’s great disappointment. This would be the first time his mother had visited him since he had entered Greenwood, and it would be won¬ derful to see her again—but why did it have to happen on this day? There would be no football practice for him. If Bill met the train, he could not rush away im¬ mediately leaving Mrs. Morton to sit idle at his boarding house. He tried to console himself with the thought that he would be making a small payment on the debt he owed his mother who bad given up many pleasures to send him to college. His decision was made more difficult by the remembrance of the coach’s repeated warning: “If a fellow can’t get out to the field on Sat¬ urday, he need not expect to be chosen for the team.” Bill whistled a mournful tune as he walked to the station. He pushed through the Saturday crowds, and made enquiries at a wicket about the trains from the east. “Son. that west-bound train arrives at 11:30,” said the busy little station agent. “But.” the boy continued, “I thought it came an hour earlier.” “I can ' t help what you thought,” snapped the man. “That train will pull in here this morning at the same time it has for the last ten years, half past eleven.” This statement was made with emphasis and rising annoy¬ ance. Bill moved diplomatically away from the peevish fel¬ low. He sat down on a wooden bench to wait and to ponder over his bad luck. Time passed slowly. The hands of the large station clock seemed to stand still. Bill compared his watch with the station ' s correct time. At that very moment, when he was becoming thoroughly bored, a gaudily dressed women approached him. Her appearance was made quite ludicrous by the two big baskets she carried, one in each hand. The boy ' s waning spirits were aroused when he suddenly found himself left alone with the four grey hens that these baskets con¬ tained. “You won’t mind keeping them for me while I go shopping, will you,” their owner informed Bill. “I’m expecting my husband on the train from the cast. If you see Mr. Smithers,—you can’t miss his brown derby —tell him to wait for me here. I’m much obliged to you for being so kind.” Before a protest could be voiced, Mrs. Smithers was gone. Bill’s task was no easy one, for his charges were very much alive. They soon discovered the fact that it was a simple matter to escape from their open baskets. All four, at the same instant, were seized with a sudden desire tor exercise. Accordingly they departed in four different directions. A mad scramble ensued as Bill pursued his flock. In the confusion kindly travellers helped him to retrieve the truants. The birds were again docile in their baskets when the 11:30 train arrived. A feeling of relief swept over Bill when he spied a brown derby descending from a coach. He would have just time enough to surrender the liens to Mr. Smithers before he sought out his mother among the new arrivals. “Mr. Smithers, here are your hens, he called out as the man passed near him. The derby did not waver from its course. Bill could not let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Scooping up the hens lie ran out of the waiting-room, and accosted Mr. Smithers as he was entering a taxi. “Here are your hens,” the boy exclaimed breathlessly. “I almost missed you.” The face under the brown derby displayed a friendly grin of recognition. “I was beginning to wonder where the reception committee was hiding,’ said the pleasant voice that belonged to the smiling countenance. “Hop in, my boy. We’ll drive right over to the college.” “But Mrs. Smithers wants you to wait for her in the station,” gasped Bill, “and I must meet my mother.” The man chuckled. “The boys are playing the same pranks they did in the old days. Before 1 explain. I should introduce myself. I’m Coach Cook, class of 1912.” The puzzled expression on the boy ' s face changed to one of respect. There was not a boy in Greenwood who did not fairly worship Coach Cook, and they all hoped that the near future would find him coaching the Green¬ wood College teams. Then Mr. Cook related to Bill all that had happened to him that morning. “This same joke was played on me thirty years ago, he explained. “It never changes, but it is only used on a new fellow who is sure-fire stuff for the team. I’ll never forget how worried I was when I thought I had lost my chance to make the team. I played in the big game though, and you will too, never fear. You’ll enjoy the feasting on those chickens too,” he added; “and you ' ll never see Mrs. Smithers again, to know her, unless you happen to be chosen next year to masquerade as that dear woman.” As they drove off towards the school. Bill could not restrain himself from humming softly, “Happy days are here again.” — DOWLERS- Smart Clothes for Students Always Head the “Honor Roll” in Style and Value . . . See the New Suits and Topcoats Now . . . Handsome Furnishings and Sportswear Too.