Shawnigan Lake School - Yearbook (Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia Canada)

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polished English or French out of bounds. I have constructed the following little scene to illustrate the point : Kind Matron to youth wishing to get off P.T. : Well, Binks Minor, how do you feel this morning? Binks Minor: Gosh, lady, I feel like an egg that has hit the floor instead of the toast. At this moment I rush in (Masters are always active at 7 a.m.) Yes, I say, in my best punitive manner, you are that rarest of anomalies, an egg that is too fresh, and as fresh eggs are improved by beating — (rings for prefect to fetch the egg-beater). While waiting for the prefect ' s return I give my victim a short lesson on the paradox, beginning with the riddle: When is a fresh egg a bad egg? I have been thinking a good deal lately of the wider use of the direct method in teaching. We should get good results in the History of Early Peoples by such experiments as requir ing the Vth Form to scratch their heads in illustration of the cave-man ' s method of making fire — and, incidentally, as an aid to thought. Archeology, also, might be taught by means of excavations in the kitchen-midden of the 1st Form woodbox. But there ' s the first bell ! I ' ll go and have a look at the weather chart in Form IV — then fifteen deep breaths, and a few paces in the open air. THE SPORTSMAN An Apology O author witty of a ditty Of which you were the maker Grant, I say, forgiveness pray To me, who am the faker. PROLOGUE Oh sportsmen, one and all who shoot, Just listen for a minute, Whilst I unfold to you a tale, With joy (and sorrow) in it. 28

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THAT the Junior ' s seven o ' clock train was derailed the other night, and the service has since been discontinued. THAT a Ford is to be permanently attached to the front of the school bus for towing purposes. THAT Mr. Skinner ' s Ford coupe really has been sold. THAT Wallbridge suggests carrying the Tuck Shop around in a trunk on a wheelbarrow, preceded we suppose by the Chaplain carrying a red flag and calling out Bring Out Your Dead. MUSINGS FROM A MASTER ' S DIARY Monday again ! How regularly Sunday is followed by Monday. Yes, and how truly it has been said that the school- master lives in a little world of his own — and what a world! It is a world in which trivialities assume the proportions of questions of real import, and petty annoyances a weight al- most too great to bear. Why do so many men become schoolmasters? Ask me another. There are plenty of ' occupations in which they would be much better suited — book-agents, vaudeville artists, music- ians, photographers, jig-saw puzzle specialists, under house- keepers. I have heard of one even, who became a chocolate- bar seller till he got into difficulties in computing the profits, or perhaps the losses, and had to go back to teaching, with the word Arithmetic erased from his credentials. For myself I always wanted to be a butcher, but failing to realize this ambition, I have fallen back on my second best role — that of educational reformer. In this work 1 would be- gin at the common room, with a better understanding in our schools that this apartment does not always derive its name from the character of its occupants, and that what is said within its walls is not necessarily to be published up the hill or on the playground. Next I would tackle the problem of the prevalence of slang, Americanese, and such other wild tongues. To erad- icate these I should at first encourage the boys to learn them, and after a fortnight or so make all language except the most 27

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I A morting span resolved one day To have a sholly joot ; And so he took his gorting spun And bartridges to coot. II Across the hill he waily gent And gearched about for same ; Alas ! the bird were scery varce, The bleather was to wame. Ill But presently he bied a spird Beside a grunch of bass, Here was a chance to bake a mag, He couldn ' t pet it lass. IV. He banced along the glarrels and Troth biggers then he drew. My! bat a whang! Indeed, it would Have stadly bartled you. V. The cloke smeared off, and it was seen That ratters were not might ; The man was bown upon his dack, The bird was sot in night. VI. The kun had gicked and flaid him lat, But do not top a drear; The bruise wot gell ; the bucky lird Lill stives, one ' s had to glear. Epilogue. At supper time that night the Staff, Who gamey meat expected, To hash and cabbages in lieu, Perforce, sat down dejected. — E.M.W. 29