London Normal School - Spectrum Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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NORMAL SCHOOL S LONDON ONTARIO

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Can We See Beyond the Chrysalis? 1 STOOD gazing out of the window, but saw nothing beyond its pane. I was toying idly with an irregular shaped piece of something that looked more than anything like nothing in particular. It was a dull brown object. But if one observed closely one might see tiny golden spots that would suggest its hidden value. Harry had brought it to me, and asked What is it? To get rid of him ' I had rather hastily explained that it was a chrysalis, and would someday develop into a butterfly. Other questions had started on his lips, but my manner had been so discouraging that he had left me to idleness. As I moved to put the boy ' s find into a box, the wish came that I had been more generous with him. The little urchin had seen only the ugly covering. Disappointment had been evident in every lineament of his face. Whose fault was it? He was not the only one who had not seen beyond an unlovely exterior. My vision had been even shorter than his. True, the child was not attractive. His hands were always grubby; his hair as if it had never stooped to the acquaintance of a comb. Patheti- cally upright it stood, although some straggling pieces consented to lean on their neighbours. His clothes appeared as if thrown on, rather than put on with any care. Why waste my noon hour replying to his inquiries? But regrets welled up within me. An opportunity had been lost. His active inquiring mind had sent him to me. What possibilities for develop- ment of hidden genius lay behind his smeared appearance! Resolution filled me. Never again should I be guilty of such short- sightedness. As consolation came the words, Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Before my eyes floated the selection: Look to this day! For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course lie all the varieties and realities of our existence. The bliss of growth, The glory of action. The splendour of beauty. For yesterday is already a dream And tomorrow is only a vision; But today, well-lived makes every yesterday, A dream of happiness, and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to this day! Such is the salutation of the dawn! 1 thought of the old Persian philosopher dipping his pen in the golden ink of life. Those words penned centuries ago had helped me today. He had seen through his dark age to a newer life. That opportunity may not knock, and pass us by, may we as successful Normalites have the vision. It will be our privilege to help the chrysalis unfold into the moth. The challenge is Can We See Beyond the Chrysalis? Nora I. Ferris. Page Eleven

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EDITORIALS We Live in Glass Houses ALL men are mirrors — at first, perhaps this statement seems to he very sweeping and far-fetched. But let us pause a moment and consider. As we sat chatting in the sitting room tonight the world in which each of us lived and moved throughout the day was focussed in the room. What we saw as we looked and listened to one another was not one another but one another ' s world. We were an arrangement of mirrors. The scenes we saw during the day were all reproduced, the people walked to and fro, they talked, they worked, they passed us by, did everything over again as if they were really with us there. When we talked, we were but looking at our own mirror and describing what flitted across them. When we listened to the others we did not hear merely words but we were looking at our neighbour ' s mirror. All human intercourse is a seeing of reflections. When one meets a stranger the cadence of his voice will tell you from what country he comes. So he has, without knowing it, reflected his birthplace and parentage. In his next remarks we see reflected a whole world of experiences. The books he has read, the regions he has traveled, the people he has met and their influences on him. These are all there and written so deeply they cannot be blotted out, not even by time itself. As I am reading him, he is reading me and before our conversation is over we could half write a story of each other ' s lives. These mirrors are not only mere reflectors of the passing things they see but they hold all these permanently. We have only to think of our childhood and youth and this is easily seen. We remember a great deal of it and can even see that which is most firmly fixed as plainly as if it had happened only yesterday. All these help to mould, broaden and beautify our characters. So it is by past experiences we learn to cope with present difficulties. If these impressions were not registered there of what value would our present experiences be? Learned today but forgotten by to- morrow. Let us then consider carefully and thoughtfully the impresses that are being made and fixed there each moment of our lives. Let us try to build our mirror out of deep, vast and lasting material. For like the pool of water which has many features hidden in its depths, awaits the bright ray of light to reveal them, so we should be ever ready to withstand the test of the bright ray of light. As we pass through life our mirror is reflecting our innermost self. So without knowing and perhaps not wish- ing it we all live in glass houses. E. JUBENVILLE. Page Thirteen