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

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THE REBELS You've seen him, on the streets, Or in the classroom, occasionally, or at the corner store, And some of you see him daily in your homes, His hair too long, his clothes unkept, Chanting, Make love, not war, You shake your head in disgustg If he's your son, you tell your friends I don't know what happened to him, And if you haven't a son like him, you're gladg ll WHEN? When will my ship come in? When you man it my son. When will I be a man? When you apply yourself my son. When will I know love? You'll know when you feel it my son. Brian A. Vezina Form Four. You tell everyone that this waste is pitiful, This wasted generation, today's youth, What is going to happen to this world? But what's even more pitiful is, That your scorn has caused it all, And your understanding could have changed it. Barbara Gravelle Form Six. A POEM OF BEAUTIFUL WORDS Lupine, peace, soft, treasure Tinsel, love, early, pleasure Twinkle, life, gentle, palm Flower, spring, heaven, calm Pond, trillium, dawn, swirl Blue, whip-poor-will, whiff, pearl Glow, demure, lazy, kiss Faith, cradle, dreamy, bliss Heather Iohnsto n Form Three . LET THERE NEVER BE A HARRY Once again, the first day of school has come and here I sit alone at my desk watching thirty new faces filing into my classroom. I am about to meet the many little people with whom I will spend the greater part of the next ten months and I find myself wondering what that delicate girl who just sidled in the door will be like or that vivacious young man who bounded in so eagerly. Down in the back corner I see one face that looks vaguely familiar. It's little Harry. Oh, how could I ever forget Harry ? I had met this child almost four years ago. I was at Teachers' College at that time, and it was the practice then for the students to spend a week in certain classrooms in the area to observe and teach an occasional lesson during the orientation period. This particular class was a Grade One, taught by a very efficient lady by the name of Mrs. S-. She was a lovely person I recallg neat grey hair, warm blue eyes, a friendly smile and a charming motherly nature, but it was not long before I realized that there was something very wrong in the relationship between Mrs. S- and poor Harry. Ten minutes never seemed to pass when Mrs. S-did not reprimand Harry for some trivial thing. Harry, sit up straight! Harry, take your pencil out of your mouth! Harry, be quiet! Harry, get busy! Poor sweet Harry with his sad little eyes would squint nervously and cower in his desk. But it was not these words that made the deepest impression on me. It was when she marched down to his desk, placed her heavy hand on the top of his head, and turned it. Somehow it seemed so degrading. In my chair at the back, I would shiver for poor Harry and watch him flinch under the steady grip. 94

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RE WA RD He was not a tall man, but in our eyes, his height was exceeded only by his rank. Bespectacled and grave, he stood before us. His hair was greying at the temples and growing thin, even then. His outward appearance was stern and sober, strictly in keeping with his conservative manner and dress. And he ruled his kingdom with an iron hand! For five long years, this was to be the severe exterior that would greet us as students. But, as day after day rolled by, we came to know the friendly smile that often replaced that cold exterior. A latin declension often became- Nightibus, darkibus, no lightorem, climibus, fencibus, pantibus totem. Under the iron hand, we soon found a guiding hand, always stretched out to help. We found a heart of warmth and understanding, when problems weighed heavily upon us. He knew each of us, as one knows pages of a book. Beneath the sombre fagade, we found a man who challenged our best with even better. He spurred us on to achievement when we were ready to abandon ship. When memorizing Latin declensions became boring and uninteresting, he would bolster our flagging spirits reciting from memory Horatius at the Bridge . Never once did he lose the reins, and we worked, knowing, above all, that he was master. Understanding full well that he was a very godly and reverent man, we, as students, plotted to bait him on the question of evolution. Should he deny the theory of evolution, we would pass it on to the science teacher. Our interpretation of his approval of the theory of evolution would be that he did not believe in God. Recognizing our intentions as they were, he stood at the front of the class, scratched his upturned nose, lifted his spectacles, and made a reply which promptly brought us back to ground, and which I shall never forget. As you people go out into the world, you will one day reach a point of no return. You will be alone. You will not be able to go back. You must go on, and at that point in life you will need an anchor. And the only wise and sensible anchor is God! Days became years and graduation came and went. Years later, I returned to that school not as a student but as a guest. The same man was still master and he was unchanged by the passing of the years. He was still guiding students to answers in right, morality, loyalty and truth. As granite withstands the tortures of the elements, so had his wisdom kept its sheen through the years. I passed through the halls and examined mementos of my school days. Here, a painting donated by a grad- uating class, and there, an oleander still green and thriving under his care. I was intrigued, at last, by a dog-eared sheet of foolscap tacked to the wall of his office. On it was a list of names, and I was immediately attracted to that of my brother. There was no heading and nothing to indicate the proper significance of these names, except the college or destination of the student. My curiosity became uncontrollable and I asked what the sheet represented. Oh, he answered in a very sober vein, Sometimes as a teacher I feel ----- well, you know how sometimes you feel ----- perhaps depressed? As if you are not getting across to the students ------ and this list is my incentive. You see, it is a list of all my old students who have gone on to higher educations and better lives. A I feel that I have played a part in their success and I am renewed in vigour and in inspiration. Can one find a greater purpose or value in teaching than his? Surely all his students should stand as a memorial to this man, so unselfish, so loyal, so dedicated and so human! F. Paskins Form Nine. 93

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By Friday Harry seemed especially tense and when the scoldings started to fly I could feel their bite. Frustra- tion rushed through Harry's veins and pressed on his spirits. The anger and humiliation welled up inside, and then one heavy tear fell onto his desk. When Harry raised his head, there was no look of sadness in the lovely eyes: there was defiance. He didn't cower under Mrs. S-.'s heavy hand that afternoon, he twisted and pulled away. His gaze was directed toward the window watching the cars, the trees and the houses, seeming determined to find another world where he would not be subjected to the stings of injustice or humiliation. Now this child sits before me. I don't know what he has become but soon I shall find out. Oh Lord, if it is at all possible help me to right the wrong that's been done, and remind me every day, as I stand here, almost omnipotent before these thirty people entrusted to my care, that it is very difficult to build yet very easy to destroy. Allow me not to mar the chances of one small child, allow me only to increase them, and let there never be a Harry for me. Kari Soucie Form Four. I FIRST TIME OUT Shut your eyes. Do you remember your first week out? Your first lesson? Can you recall that feeling of panic the dry throat, the churning stomach, the last frantic glance at the inadequate plan? Well, I can. What was I going to teach? Oh yes! The Arctic! I was so cold, numb, and beyond reasoning that I might as well have been in the Arctic. In fact, the Arctic looked mighty inviting at that moment. Great Scott! Where do I start? I show a bathing suit. This fascinates them. Good! Now think children. Where would people be wearing this right now? In Africa? He's pointing at the Sahara Desert! Well now, do you really think that this would be a good place to swim? What do we have to have to be able to swim? Water? That's better. He's pointing at the Mediterranean. That's more like it. Remember now, pupil participation. Show me on the map. Now I gingerly produce a fur coat. I ask. Where would people be wearing this right now? This time I am holding my breath. Maybe someone will remember the true north strong and free. Good, a light has snapped on in someone's head. There's a bright one coming to the board. He made it! He's in the North. Maybe he'll even remember who inhabits the North. He did. Let's talk about the Eskimos. What do they eat? What do they wear? Where do they sleep? We are now proceeding at an even pace. We discuss the land. This is the spot where I am to produce the perma-frost. I've spent hours preparing it. OOPS! It collapsed. It's dripping on the floor. I'M so embarrassed, I could die. Well, carry on. , Is the teacher interested? I'll bet she wonders what will happen next. So do I. Here we have more pupil participation. They help to clean up the ghastly mess. So much for the Discovery Method. I seem to be the only one doing any discovering. Now, the Application. We will write a story and sing a song about Eskimos. Will those children remember the perma-frost? I will, for the rest of my life. I sit down. My knees collapse. It's over. Did you ever feel this way? Ina Hutchison Form One. 95