Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada)

 - Class of 1949

Page 74 of 108

 

Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1949 Edition, Page 74 of 108
Page 74 of 108



Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1949 Edition, Page 73
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Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1949 Edition, Page 75
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Page 74 text:

THE OLD SCHOOL by Anita Hall, XII Although a popular subject for con- versation nowadays is the new school, if we ever move to a new school there will be many fond, farewell looks back to the old one, where we spent the best years of our lives. The memories we will have had of so many gay and sad experiences, such as romances at the fountain and visits to the office, are never to be forgotten. This old T.D.H.S. is not entirely to be condemned, it even has some advantages. For instance, when you open the heavy walnut door and enter the dark, dusty hall, you find a homey atmosphere every- where. In this decaying edifice, the floor may not be waxed and polished, but this pro- vides a safeguard against slipping in the halls and injuring oneself. In the classroom, if there comes a time when there is no work to do, one may amuse oneself by reading the many names and dates engraved on the windows, walls, and desks. Another advantage is that the pupils are brought closer together, resulting in mutual friendship. They have a first-hand view of nature, especially in the annex. Even skunks like our annex. Some may complain of the chilliness in the school at times, but Mr. Sinclair will tell you this helps the brain to function. So you see, even though this old school is dilapidated, old-fashioned, unhealthy, unsanitary, and inefficient, it is to be loved and long remembered by all. huh CADET OFFICERS AND N.C.0.'s, 1949 72 THE TATLER F

Page 73 text:

'ALL ABOARD by Lucy Rokeby, IXC We wake in the morning to the sound of the stair door opening and Mother call- ing to tell us that it is half-past seven and warning us not to be late. Three calls later we manage to crawl out and start to get ready for school. After a mad rush and a hurried breakfast we set out for the corner with a shout of Hurry on, Mouse, or you'll be late! We arrive at the bus stop just as the bulk of the bus looms around the corner and comes to a screeching stop, splattering muddy ice in every direction. We clamber aboard and go bouncing and swerving down the road. I often wonder where this bus learned to do the rhumba. At the next stop Margaret gets on with her arms loaded with books. Someone always inquires whether she hasn't got a desk at school yet. As we move on, a high school notebook is left on a seat, and as we hurdle the next bump, the rings come loose and the sheets shower all over the floor and seat. Meanwhile Marilyn amuses us with her tales of her latest male acquaintances. We bump and jolt along till we come to that railroad on the little hill. We take a run at it and get only half-way up, and then slide down toward the guard-rail. Bless the man who put that guard-rail there or we would end up in the ditch. We all pile out, and the bus driver prepares to take another run at it. At last we get over the hump , but it makes a better story if we say we have to take the bus apart and carry it across. Soon after we get back in the running again, we have a blow-out, but because it is a dual tire we continue, letting the twin carry the weight. We come to a lurching stop and a couple more eager scholars get on. As we pro- ceed we engage in loud-voiced conversation so as to be. heard over the squeaks and rattles. Soon we find that the bus is very full. Ah! There's our last stop, and here comes little Harry, walking like an old grandfather as usual. At last the hallowed walls of Tillson- burg High heave into sight. We unload, grateful to get some fresh air before we enter this crammed factory of education. THE. TATTLER kr .,ll,4- NV X llllfli Az l f' 'sth ' f - 7' f f 4, G fc' f l I .sr 'tk -- ?. ..--- f f - ' THE CROWDED BUS - M. French, XIA THE BUS RIDE Each morning, about eight-fifteen, All at the store we meet. We're happy and we're sleepy, And go in to get some heat. We talk to one another Beside the fire there: Then someone hollers, Here's the And out the door we tear. bus! We clamber up the two steps That lead into the bus,' We see when we get in there That there are lots of seats for us. We drive about a mile, Or maybe a little more,' We stop to get another girl, My books slide to the floor. When to our destination We at last have got, Do we make our exit mannerly? Gracious! I'll say not! Instead of going single file, We crowd out in a bunch. And then, inside the school I see That I forgot my lunch! Jack Tanner, XIB. 71



Page 75 text:

PETUNIA! by Steven Choma, XII Ah, yes! We have had some newcomers at old T. D. H. S. Mama skunk, poppa skunk and all their little stinkers have finally come to school. Whether they came here to be educated or to be fumigated is yet to be seen. But I think the latter is the stronger, and I do mean stronger! They had been in the school for about a month, shall we say off and on. But that last week was something unbearable until a couple of ambitious fourth-formers tried their skill at removing odours. They removed a couple of the perfumed family, but not their spirits. Their spirits could still be sensed in all class-rooms. You felt as if pretty Petunia were right beside you, nudging you with her beautiful fluffy tail. Oh! What a horrible thought! All fooling aside, though, one morning as I walked through the gym, or should I say struggled through the gym, the air was so strong that when I threw away my text book into the air, it just stayed up there. But I think we soon will have forgotten about our school-spirited Pe- tunia, unless she has a few more fellow odourists that we haven't counted on. As for myself, I think I'll buy myself some Tums for the Tummy and retire. THE SKUNK fWith apologies to Mr. Blakej Little Skunk, who 'made thee? A Dost thou know who made thee? Gare thee scent and bade thee use if By the stream and o'er the mead: Gare thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, striped with white, Little Skunk, who 'made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Charles Ketchabaw, XII. - VIENNA HIGH SCHOOL I Con tfinued from Page 22j and improved opportunities, such as the orchestra, the oratorical contests, sports, the Glee Club, the Puppet Club, and the Literary Society. When I leave in June I will envy the students of Grades IX, X, XI, and XII who will be returning in September to spend another enjoyable and glorious year at T.D.H.S. -Anthony Slama, XIII, in collaboration with George Teal, XIII. - THE TATLER EXPERIENCE IS THE BEST TEACHER by Murray Girvin, IXA It was a sad, sorrowful day that I saw my fat, jolly, little black pony taken away in the truck, but I had for consola- tion my father's promise to replace him with a young saddle-horse. A few weeks later I was overjoyed when my father informed me that a two- year-old pinto was in the barn for me. Unknown to my father I took my saddle, which was a past Christmas present, and saddled the horse. The horse proved to be a beautiful beast of stature, power, and grace, with fine features and fine bones. Her colour was a creamy white with flam- ing spots at intervals on her graceful body. At this time I was ignorant of the fact that she was not broken, but before I could mount her, Mother called me for supper, which proved lucky for me. The postponed ride came during the following afternoon. Father told me that she was unbroken, but I mounted the saddle just the same. As my weight set- tled in the saddle her body trembled with fear beneath me. I was informed of what might happen, as she came from the west in a group of shaggy ponies and piebald colts, but I was still undaunted and solemnly believed that I would be the victor. These thoughts were thrown from my mind as 'she hurled her body into the air, and came down on stiffened legs that gave my neck a jerk which might have broken it. Then her body catapulted for- ward like a comet in its fiight through the heavens-but alas, I went sprawling in the grass. Being relieved of my weight she mildly trotted to the barn. This in- cident occurred several times before I was able to stay in the saddle and when she discovered I had stayed in the saddle she calmed immediately and never ever made another wrong move toward me. - SENIOR ORATORICAL CONTEST K Continued from Page 301 programme closed with the singing of God Save the King. To Miss McIntosh and Miss Ostrander goes the credit for the success of the Oratorical Competitions this year. 73

Suggestions in the Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) collection:

Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1950 Edition, Page 1

1950

Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1951 Edition, Page 1

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Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1960 Edition, Page 1

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1949, pg 52

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Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1949 Edition, Page 82

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1985 Edition online 1970 Edition online 1972 Edition online 1965 Edition online 1983 Edition online 1983 Edition online
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