Toronto Teachers College - Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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We Stand on Guard for Thee - ADRIANNE CONWAY It is often remarkable how the simplest events and circumstances and people can be thrown together ac- cidentally to produce an indelible impression of worth! These ingredients were for me an occasion of thrilling pride in my country and of a desire to see every Can- adian as thoroughly a Canadian as this little Chinese girl of nine short years! A few weeks ago I went into a tiny grocery-shop to buy bread and other staple foods . . . Cfor even an adult student-teacher has to budget . . . and pass up the preferred delicacies of Danish pastries etc. for plain, good old-fashioned bread!! I had often noted before how neat and clean this little shop was kept by an equally neat and attractive little Chinese woman. But it was her to which I was really attracted. It seemed we both had something in common - for Linda it was the gayful discovery-age of a grade four child . . . but a chore as well to meet the work require- ments and sit still long enough in order to do so! For me, it was a year of chores and adiustments of another kind . . . yet, I too was living with a heart full of dis- coveries and joy while learning more and more each day how very little I really knew about teaching! We used to compare notes briefly but in a friendly man- ner. We had never needed an introduction from our very first meeting . . . it seemed, as it usually does with children, that such superficiality of convention is a pure waste of time. Now You See Him. Now You Don't. JOHN McCUI.LOUGH Before coming to Teachers' College I had decided, through working with different age groups, that on the completion of the college year I would like to teach a primary or senior grade. That was before my first week of practice teaching! From my very first day in the grade one class I had decided that it definitely wasn't for me. The teacher's comment that I seemed to have a good understanding of this age group, did not sway me in the least but caused me to wonder if she had inferred this, due to the similarity in mentality. By Wednesday I was a nervous wreck. I couldn't decide whether this was due to the fear I had of ac- cidentally stepping on one of the little creatures and crushing him to death, or the continual line of students saying, Sir, she hit me, Sir, he kicked me, Sir, will you tell Jimmy to stop pinching me? That night I made a resolution that no matter what happened the next day I would not let it bother me. Thursday arrived and I was assigned to take the read- ing groups - all four of them. Everything went fine until the Pussycats came up to read. They were along one side of a long table, myself being on the other side seated on those midget chairs, Cmidget booby 26 My chat with Linda over, and my purchases made and paid for, I began to leave the shop . . . when a very well-dressed and posh-looking lady tl thoughtl entered . . . She gave me the impression that she had arrived there through sheer accident and was con- descending to go ahead bravely, despite her mistake, in buying whatever she needed. l noticed that Linda seemed to have assessed the good lady in somewhat the same manner as I had . . . for she scooted out ahead of me, to play hop-scotch in front of their neat little store. Before I had left the area to cross the street, the lady came out. I noticed that she appeared to look down several miles of condescension, as she approached the little girl. Linda, who to all appearances, was not impressed and was deeply involved in a game of a more difficult kind of hop-scotch familiar only to Grade Four's . The lady broke in on her game with: Little girl . . . are you a Chinese or a Japanese or . . . WHAT? Without even the slightest accent, nor the slightest break in the rhythm of her hopping, the little one said: I am a Canadian. Under my breath I added: Good for you! The lady walked off toward her car . . . I went home with delightful pride in my new fel- low-Canadians, and Linda went right on hopping mer- rily . . . on her own Canadian sidewalk! Do you see what I mean when I said at the beginning that simplest events and people, added to simple circumstances can occasion a very interesting meal-for-thought. . . . and doesn't the wisdom of little ones always confound the so-called great ones ? traps! enioying, to no end, the story of Sandy , when Peter became confused between the two words walk and help . Being an understanding teacher, I realized how similar these words were and how easy it was to confuse them, and rising from my floor level chair I wrote a few words on the blackboard located directly behind me. Completing my display of phonics and pen- manship, I resumed my seat and proceeded to turn, on my chair, to point the words out and thus solve the student's problem. Finding that the words were a little to the side, I tilted my chair, so as to be able to point out the words. Peter began his oration, chalk, talk , CRASH! In a cloud of amazement and horror the teach- er and chair disappeared behind the reading table. Horror quickly turned to laughter and frivolity, while a usually pale placid face turned scarlet. Regaining my equilibrium I peeked over the table in embarrassment to see my teaching partner in the back corner leading the chorus of laughter, which by now had spread from pupil to pupil. As I resumed my position, I happened to glance at the little girl, whom the previous day I had chided for tilting her chair, and in her eyes I seemed to read our motto, We learn by doing.

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Think, Man, Think! L. C. KUHONTA Nowadays it is not uncommon to see people eager to follow what the rest believe, or the least resistant path, rather than oppose or think for themselves. They are quite satisied to have others do the thinking for them. Some are, perhaps, too lazy to blaze a new trail, others simply have no potentiality to tap, and many are too scared to oppose lest they displease the powers that be. Thus they are ready to follow blindly and resigned to master the evils of the adages, lf you are told to jump, don't ask why but how high, and Do what I say not what I do. To the latter group of conformists, surprisingly and disgustingly though it may seem, belong even some of the most highly educated persons in this world. It is no respector of degrees, achievement or ability, lt clutches at every- one, rich or poor, learned or not. Democracy in a supposedly democratic country is a misnomer when one reflects on the number of people who would rather conform than think. Democracy is incompatible with conformity and yet so many people who profess to be leaders of democracy are themselves potential conformists. Why is this so? Thought is dif- ficult, conformity is easy, and dissent is hazardous. One does not have to think in order to conform. Thought appears only when one dissents, when opinions are at variance, when reasons clash and opposing sides occur. Thinking occurs when one ceases responding in the affirmative and starts contemplating, when one be- comes aware of his backbone and starts using his rea- sons. Conformity is safe, it does not upset anythin-g. Everything flows smoothly, good or bad, right or wrong. Of course it should not be supposed that dis- sention and unreasonable opposition are the same, neither should conformity Kas it is meant herel be con- fused with anarchy. Dissention born out of sound rea- sons and deep thinking is diagonally opposed to total and unreasonable rejection which is negativism. Just as we owe much, as citizens, to our country, we owe much as students, to our Alma Mater. It is our duty to respect and obey both and do our best to serve them. In a democracy, however, the people should be dis- tinguished from its government. Similarly, the stud- ents should be distinguished from their institutions. They should stand out as individuals not as mere pup- pets or yes men citizens, most particularly those who are future teachers, future moulders of young minds. They should be free to express their individuality. This is necessary if our government ever hopes to pro- duce real leaders of democracy, or strong pillars of the country. Democracy is unity not with conformity but in diversity. It is the godchild of reflection, of dissen- tion and of thought. There is but one who could curve the claws of senseless conformity - the man who has the strength and courage to stand up and assert what he thinks is right, the man who uses his faculty and produces results, the man of integrity and of character. We are here in this institution not only to learn the modern methods and techniques of teaching, but also land this is equally importantj to educate our iudge- ment. Dr. Rizal, an Oriental philosopher once said, There are no tyrants, where there are no slaves.

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LITERARY CONTEST NUVEMBER 11, 1965 On the steps A shadow is cast, A shadow, a memory Of the past ---- On the hill A white cross stands, A cross, a mark Of troubled lands ---- Lighted lanterns down the river flow, Lighted lanterns, where did the people go? First came the bomb, then the heat, The people melted in defeat ---- Poppied wreaths placed in solemn row, Poppied wreaths, where did the soldiers go? First were the talks, then the war, Soldiers who breathe no more ---- Won't you please put down your gun And gird yourself with thought, my son? Think of a child, innocent and dear, Of a child's eyes distorted with fear, Ot trees, of valleys, of lakes blue, Ot the destruction only war can do, Of a smile, a handshake, a kiss, Of what war does to all of this .... SHARON O'NElLL FAIR