North Bay Teachers College - Polaris Yearbook (North Bay, Ontario Canada)

Page 112 text:

LIVING UP TO TRADITION Larry's father had carried a canoe since he was twelve. All his brothers had carried a canoe by the age of twelve. Larry had now reached the age of fourteen and he was not following family tradition at all. It was a hot day on the portage and his father was around the bend talking to campers on their way back from Daily Lake. Larry stood by the lake staring at the canoe while the ominous cloud of family tradition hung over his head. Then with movements of determination, he pulled the canoe up and started lacing the paddles. He must get that canoe over the half mile portage before his father came back. He was just wrestling the canoe on to his back when he heard. Just a minute son. You have the paddles on backwards. Larry's heart sank. Now his father would laugh at his good intentions. The handles of the paddles always face the stern. His father undid the mass of knots and tied the paddles in expert fashion. Then after a long silence he added, Are you sure you want to carry this thing? Larry's face flashed with surprise. Then he masked his excitement and put a tone of nonchalance in his voice. In an off-hand manner he replied, Yeah, l can carry it. There's nothing to it. Alright, here put my coat on to pad your shoulders. Larry was sure he detected a hint of laughter in his father's voice. l'll show him, he thought, l'll carry that thing if it kills me. His father lifted the canoe up with awesome ease and said, Steady now, adjust the paddle blades on your shoulders and if you get tired, I will help you. Are the paddles comfortable, son? Now are you sure you want to carry it son? lt's heavy you know. No, I can carry it. Okay. came the reply and he let the full weight of the canoe descent on Larry's shoulders. The boy's legs bowed, he swayed sideways, then backwards and then he did a fancy rendition of a two step. He moved forward in a half run with his legs still buckled. He came to a dead stop, straightened and then took one unsure step forward, then another. He was in full control. He fortified himself mentally by telling himself that it was really light. Two minutes later, it got heavier, and five minutes later, he thought his legs were going to collapse. He could hear his father's foot- steps behind him. I can't put it down. he thought, he'd laugh, I'd be a disgrace. Sweat started to trickle down into his eyes and it stung. He squeezed his eyelids tight and then opened them. The trickle of salt water took a new route. He now had to blow the water droplets off the end of his nose. A voice came from behind. Stop son. l'll hold the canoe. Larry held his breath so as not to emit any trace of exertion and replied. No, don't bother, l'm alright. He was almost over the portage, there was not a muscle in his body that did not ache. He tried everything, from shifting the canoe to walking ara quick gait. The best method was to hold his breath for long periods of time and the mental concentration anaesthetized the pain. Only twenty yards to go, ten -- I'm here. Dad better hurry. he thought, No, l'll put it down myself. He started to squat in an undignified position and then got down on his knees. Somehow, he rolled the canoe off his shoulders and let it rest lightly on the ground. He saw his father coming up the trail. Have any difficulty, son? There was a note of pride in his voice. Larry stifled his quick breath and said, No -- not too much trouble at all. He wiped all traces of effort from his face with his forearm and added, In fact, I thought the canoe would be a lot heavier. Douglas Grant Form 6 108

Page 111 text:

But there are many sophisticated and imaginative variations, Compact transistorized tape recorders seem to be on the way out, for there is a stiff preliminary requirement which discourages all but those that are determined: the recorder ear plug must be worn all the time to establish the fact that the wearer uses a hearing-aid. At exam time he merely pre-records the information he needs. l have seen a pencil which was made hollow by removing most of the lead. The lead is replaced with a thin round stick of about the same size, to which was attached a sheet of paper, rolled up. A tiny slit was cut in the side of the pencil and the cheating student simply pulled out the sheet when he needed it, peeked at it, then rolled it back again by means of the eraser end of the pencil. A cheap wrist watch can be used just as effectively. One of my fellow students last year told me with admiration how the system works. Empty the works from a watch. Then take a long, thin piece of paper and write notes on it. Then fit it into the watch in such a way that when you turn the knob the paper inside would turn on a roller until whatever you wanted to know would appear on the face. Finally there are signaling and swapping -- forms of cheating that involve the participation of two students, one of whom knows the answers. ln a true-false test it is easy to pass information. The cheater indicates the number of the question and his accomplice replies with a prearranged signal -- perhaps tugging of an ear lobe for true , scratching the head for false . Answers also can be communicated by drumming in Morse code on the desk top. Of all the cheaters who use mechanical devices and carefully planned tricks that are used to cheat the teachers, the greatest respect -- if that is the word -- must be reserved for the impromptu cheater who uses nothing more complicated than a highly developed talent for being crooked on the spur of the moment. One of my friends attending university told me the following story. A friend of mine I know entered a calculus examination with practically no knowledge of the course. The exam questions were on two mimeographed sheets. One glance showed him that he knew nothing whatever about the four questions on the first sheet. He devoted the entire exam period to answering the single question on sheet two, then turned in the sheet alone. Taking the first sheet back to his room, he opened his textbooks, answered the first four questions and finally placed the page of answers on the floor and stepped on it. Then he handed the page to a friend who was about to take another exam in the same room. With the page went explicit instructions. The second student waited until his own exam had started, then walked up to the instructor bearing the dirty sheet of paper, Excuse me, sir, he said, l just found this at the back of the room. The instructor took the 'lost' paper. The cheater got one of the few A's in his class. lf all these examples prove anything, they prove that nothing will stop a really determined cheater. lt must be obvious that the solution to cheating is not a search for foolproof examinations but a change in moral attitude. This can be achieved only by the students themselves -- and their parents. What about the teachers? Dino De Rosa Form 5 CONFORMITY BUT FORTY BELOW lt's a good life-- Life It hung everywhere This life of utter conformity, IS often Unefldurablez Enveloping, But, Smothering, individuality is ours We all cling to it. Heavy and motionless The phantom public cries, H . Hovering o'er roof and street. 4 I appiness Absurd! As if they had been mesmerized IS fleeting: By rules of strict conformity. But, The town lay silently, I We au pursue it. Seemingly. frightened l-low atrocious these moral lepers Cowering in itself. Doing what nobody does! Loneliness Tucked close, Much better for us stereotyped ls avoidableg Anticipating daylight Than their festering, dulling, withering . BUT, Sunlight We all feel lonely now and then. Warmth, Preposterous these eccentricities! Hatred By gad! it is we, IS mahciousg Warmth, to thaw and reduce Your preponderant leaders, But, The icy chill to nothingness, Who have striven for your normality It rules Us all at times. Allowing air to breathe, and Yes, it is a good life-- Sun to smile. Our life of utter conformity. LUC14 To beat its happy dance IS ISYUPOFHIY: Upon the silvery surface Denise Pronovost Bur. Of earth's frozen sheath. Form 9 We all hope for it. Love Life therein, Is frequently distressingg was evldenced only by But' Drowsy plumes of smoke We all venture into it. Pushing' struggling up' Then falling under weight Death Of frost and cold. IS dreaded: All else wasn't! But, We all must meet it. Cheryl West Form 10 Christine Senter Form 9 107

Page 113 text:

NORTHLAND In the town hall of Kirkland Lake, Ontario, there is a mural showing men lining up at the mine entrance to begin their shift. I have forgotten most of the details, such as, which of the once-famous Kirkland mines it is they are about to enter CWright-Hargreaves? , Lakeshore? , Teck-Hughes? , Sylvanite?y, or on what memorable date this particular shift went to work, other than that it was during the height of the gold mining era. There is also the strong suspicion that the picture, though honest and well-done, would probably never find its way into any renowned art gallery, but there is one lasting impression. Depicted here is the Canada I sought while still in war-torn Europe, here is the Canada I found some seventeen years ago, the Canada which adopted me and mine, and which I in turn chose for my country - not through an accident of birth, but consciously as an adult. What is it that makes this mural so outstanding, at least for me? Nothing is shown of the wonders of the Canadian landscape - the vast Arctic North, the endless prairies, the majestic Rockies - but then other countries have comparable wonders and beauty, and it is not for this that you would choose a new homeland. It is the very best, the essence of Canada, which is shown here - in the faces, somewhat tired but determined, of the men about to enter the mine, and in their names listed in conscientious small-town manner under the picture No roster of reputed heroes here, just ordinary men bent on a job no weakling would care for, men from all corners of the earth as demon- strated by their names, who even if they came here hoping to find the streets paved with gold had long since settled down to working for it - hard, dangerously, without glamour, This is the Canada of the mind, a community of people bound together not by common origin but by common goals, going about their work unostentatiously, maybe with a bit of grumbling as befits a gruelling job, but still ready to do their share, and let the next fellow have his, no matter how unpronounceable his name, how hard to understand his greeting. A decent but rather gloomy and not too inspiring picture to represent one's country in anyone's mind? Look outside. There is the living follow-up picture: the children of these men, black, brown and blond of hair, playing together in the schoolyard, laughing, calling to each other, proving their father's right. It IS all worthwhile, the loneliness at first, the mucking for gold , the sweat, the dreams. Here is the future now, carved by the men with the strange and silent faces, the Browns, the Laplantes, the Greatbears, the Pulsinskis, Benvenutos, Schmidts, SooLings, and all the othersg it reads like a roster of the United Nations. It is Canada today and tomorrow! And it is also the greatest challenge to all of us who want to take some active part in the further shaping of our country's future by educating its children. Swanhild A. Simmerling Form 3 COLLEGE DE PEDAGOGIQUE C with apologies to William Drummond 5 Although you don' know me, Ma nom ees Lee 'arris, To come to dees ecole Ie suis tres embaras. Ma brain she ees t'eek, Plaintee t'ing I don' know, But de qualification I got, So by gat me I go. Dey say dat cle teacher She ees ver-ee scarce, So I t'ink mebbe I try For bedder, for worse. De day she arrive, Le 12 du Septembre, Ma knee dey ees knockin', Ma t'aughts ver-ee sombre. I walk t'rou dat door, De auditorium she's feel, Dere ees no escape now, Ma fate she ees seal. De life at de college, She's so beesy an' gai, From top floor to bottom Leas' t'ree tam per day. Den down to de gym where We mak' beaucoup sport, M'sieur 'usband 'ee 'oller An' we dance an' cavort. Den out to de school We visite wan week, Teach beaucoup de children Mos' tam I feel seek. It's back to de college Pour write les exam, An' if we should fail By gar, what a jam! De exam she ees over An' now we mus' wait, For masters to mark dem An' tell us our fate. But if we don' mak' it, Don' lose de good cheer, Remember Pestalozzi, Try new job nex' year. Mrs. L. Harris Form 6