Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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AT LAST The Liberal Arts Wing of the Junior School Birth of a Dream Ten years ago, when Cavendish married into the Saltus family, the fact that every one of the influx of persons into the Saltus complex had found a place evoked more sounds of gratitude than cries of difficulty and deprivation. For some time, during the honeymoon, no-one felt in a position to mention the inadequacies of cramped conditions, and, in the tradition of all good Private Schools, work continued, undiminished and undeterred by the physical environment. Ambition was high, impressive goals were set, the curriculum became more sophisticated. While we still housed girls, the belief was fostered that, obviously, when they had grown out of our system, we would have more space. However, when the last two left in July 1978, the stark facts were revealed. We had a school of boys, with an ever increasing roll, a rapidly developing programme of activities, and no- where to carry them out. Music confliced with P.E. in the Hall. The P.E. had to move outside. 60 children at a time tried to change and shower in the changing room built for 24: — ( You ' ve got my sock! That ' s my vest. Take your foot out of my pants. ) At lunch time on rainy days, the increasing number of visiting music teachers was faced, for their lessons, either with a corner each of the Hall, or a choice of: — the Head Teacher ' s room, where the ' phone rang constantly in the wrong key; the Science Room, where pungent smells of recent experiments choked the atmosphere, and the players; the Art Room, where 90 children scurried continuously in and out of their classrooms beyond; or the cloakrooms, to the accompaniment of dripping taps and flushing toilets. Full marks to the one who found sanctuary in the P.E. cupboard! Art fared no better. In what was once the entrance hall for that wing, 30 boys per class, sweltered under the low ceiling, being stampeded by herds of changing classes whenever the period bell sounded, or, seeking ventilation, spent their lesson chasing after their paper masterpieces, which floated around the room on the welcome breeze, every time their owners left them to mix more paint. The honeymoon now being long since over, bitterness and frustration were sounded, and eventually reached the ears of Those in Command. Came the day when plans were invited for an addition to the Junior School, an extension to be called the Liberal Arts Wing. Eagerly sites were proposed, drawings submitted: — east of the gym, west above the .lunior rooms, north into the janitor ' s garden. Who cared, so long as we had a building?! Finally a decision was made. The starting date was set. Hopes ran high. Two boys, Reid Young and Kirk Marco held a private fair raising $100, the start of the Junior School Building l und, which was thereafter cnlhusiastically added lo by many sales and money-raising projects. THEN... the Senior School Hall was wrecked by fire. With a mixture of sympathy and frustration the Junior Department shrank down in whipped dejection and watched with envious resignation, the reconstruction of the Senior Hall, followed by the building of the Senior Gym. Years have passed. Staff have changed; others have aged! The curriculum has developed. Our little fimd has grown to over S6,000, bui alucs have diminished, and elsewhere iiioncN has become tight. Nobody believed the new Headmaster ' s third prediction, We ' ll be starting on your new building in November. Then, suddenly, 8.00 a.m. November 18th, 1981, over the brow of the driveway, the heavy thrum of the first payloader, the thrilling sounds of crunch and crash as, like a mechancial Shiva, it destroyed the cycle shed, the tool hut, and the water pipes! to make way for the new creation. Passing the old sheds Walls going. . . gone. For six months we have assumed an unnatural normalcy round the rubble and mess, through the din and dust, over the hammers and drills — determined to play our part during the growth of our dream child. By the time you all read this, the New Wing will be a well integrated, fully operational part of our unit. These thoughts and pictures are printed... lest we forget... The roof goes Before alteration

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JUNIOR SCHOOL STAFF Under the direciioii of coiuniander Silkie! Left to Right: Front Mrs. M. Pettit, Dip. Mus. Ed., R.S.A.M, Mr. G. Sutherland (First Assistant) Mrs. J. Zuill Miss E. Wilkie (Head of Department) Mrs. K. Walker Miss M.R. Armstrong Mrs. K. Latter Mrs. L. Williams Rear: Mr. M. Beasley Mr. P. Lever Mr. S. Adams, B.A. (Edinburgh) L.R.S.M. 27

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ART AND CRAFTS Tearaway hy Martin DeSilva The Monsters Guy Hamshere J3L age 9 One day my two copilots and 1 were flying over the Amazon jungle when our plane caught on fire!! We jumped and our parachutes automatically opened and we landed safely in some long grass. We leaned against a small tree, when to our surprise the tree spoke to us! ! It told us to turn the knob above us and to go to the land of the monsters and get the green emerald from the king. We turned the knob and went in. There was a passageway leading down. It was damp and strange and yellow, green, red and blue lights shaped like monsters were on the walls. We went deeper and deeper, until we came to the land of the monsters!! Luckily we had swords, for we met our first monster. It was not a very friendly monster. William and James and I drew our swords and then I said, Attack! The monster fought like five hundred mad men put together. It had two heads, three powerful hands and two legs. One of his heads came off, then he ran away. 1 ga e a sigh of relief! We didn ' t get cut that much but we did get a lot of bruises. The next one we saw was about I mile away but this time we hid in some tall grass until it went by. We walked man ' many miles — we came to the palace! It was beautiful! Red, green, yellow, and blue jewels were studded in the gold wall!! We found a rope, and threw it over the wall. Then wc climbed over the wall. 1 quietly snuck up behind the guard and cut his head off!! Then we got into the palace. The monster king was in a huge room. We snatched ihc black emerald and ran out the door. As we ran we lashed our swords about. We jumped over the wall and ran to the stairs w ith monsters close behind us. We ran up the stairs and they tbllowed us. They were so close behind us that when I stopped and kicked the first one, he tumbled down and so did the others! We ga c the tree the emerald. He gave us three wishes as a reward, but that ' s another story. Murder On T he Orient F ' xpress Koy Brooke J7S The train slowly cased into the station and came to a halt. A crowd of well-dressed rich people boarded. Un-noticed, a man with one hand had gone into an unused part of the train and sat down. He was five feet ten, possibly six feet. He was registered as John Smith, a name too fake to be real. As the train pulled out of the station his mind went to work. An evil glint came over his eyes. Revenge! He put his hand on his hair and pulled. A rubber face slid off and a scarred and mutilated one lay beneath. He wanted revenge on thai man, who, twenty years ago shoved him on a track in front of a train. Which explains his hand and face. He slipped the mask on again, becoming .lohn Smith once more. Night fell, but Smith didn ' t eat. instead he went into the .Man ' s section, hid in a wardrobe and waited. The Man came in and went to sleep, satisfied after a good meal. Smith crept out, his eyes bloodshot, his face twisted into an insane, e il grin. Again and again the knife plunged to the hill, the victims coat red and wet. Smith ran out, dropping the knife as he did so. He threw his bloody clothes out the window , changed and relaxed. A high-pitched scream of terror resounded. Smith smiled. It had been discovered. A man rushed from room to room. The smile faded. A cop!! he thought. Detective Harry Owers had been on the train and found the weapon. Everyone was being questioned in the lounge. Except one. Owers went in search of — guess who?? He looked in Smith ' s compartment. No one. As he left, something caught his eye. A single drop of blood, glistening ' ike a ruby. Also, he found a little bit of bloody sock snagged on the window sill. Owers pieced it all together. All he needed was Smith. Everywhere was searched. Except the roof. A lone Smith sat up in the fading light, deep in thought. But already Owers was climbing up. Smith saw him as he came up and stood up to face his opponent . Suddenly, Owers ducked and hid his eyes. Smith whirled round and saw the gaping mouth of a tunnel rushing to meet him. His writhing body sped into the rocky canyon a thousand feet below . Owers slowly climbed back down the ladder. ' Foofha lcr ' by Rolwri Hall 29