Westdale Secondary School - Le Raconteur Yearbook (Hamilton, Ontario Canada)

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Grade IX Section :g:..,-esftrrisfeiv ' ' siege-Qi ' fr fi .. .N-., .Q K ., , .x.,.f..fs sm-,,.s,M ,p ,. J - ,, X .- fb3ze'2:v-asvci i .wwf 5 ,32 4, - JZ, eh? ' X sf V -ft' . If a x ,. ygybi 'E' .V . A 'ff fam , - 2 A QE i KATHY KELMAN, if . ff' Erlztor. Literary THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL Good morning, fellow jailbirds. I am going to attempt to tell you something about us shameful grade niners and our disgustingly good behaviour at Westdale. The first agoniz- ing day at this Alcatraz , the old pros are astonished by the numbers of obedient fresh- men m.arching down the corridors in honest silence and co-operation, Everywhere, through- out the endless halls, you discover a poor, lone survivor, lost in the confusion and turmoil of first day in school . A few dismayed stu- dents, in a genuine but hopeless attempt to find their classrooms, wander into the locker rooms of the opposite sex, only to be greeted by shrieks and screams of terror, a severe penalty for being a straggler. At last, however, good fortune Cin the form of an older student, or teacherj, guides you to your classroom, and you meet your prim and proper teacher. A haggard, total wreck, you stagger to your seat, and collapse in sheer exhaustion. You don't realize, however Cuntil it is too latej, that the kindness and sincerity which you have been shown this day is only a false cover. The down-to-earth Westdale life and spirit breaks out in a little less than 18 hours! Look out! June Happerle. ODE TO A KLEENEX Oh, thou fragile little thing Whose ultimate purpose is to disturb The tranquility of the peaceful Day And then to drop, Overflowing And unnoticed Among a pile of other such soggy treasures. Brian Shein. THE WORLD IS WASHED Nothing stirred, not even a leaf, and one's soul could feel the suspense hanging in the air. No birds were singing, not a tree top quivered. It was too exciting to express. The huge clouds in the distance sent out a dark warning while the rumbling of the approach- ing thunder could be heard. The storm swept forward steadily. A little girl cowered in a corner as the first bolts of lightning flashed across the sky and the pelting rain began to whip the trees to the ground. The thunder no longer grumbled in its -throat, but now let go with all its fury. The storm was soon a raging hurricane, tear- ing down anything in its Way. Shrieking winds tore away trees and houses and tossed them over its shoulder. The storm had gone wild and could not control its passion for destruc- tion. As it became weary, the wreckage could be seen filling the streets and fields. Moaning and pitiful wails rent the village as the dwell- ers surveyed their situation. A woman cried softly and a young man cried for his lost love. Homes were gone, and the village was no longer there. Yet, as the storm passed, one could see the miracle and could not help but become awed with the wonder of so great a thing as this. This destroyer was no earthly, man-made thing, but it was sent by One greater than any earthly mortal, One whose judgement may not be questioned. Look, the countryside now glows with a new freshness of a Washing sent from God. The air has a sweet fragrance and the atmosphere is soft and again peaceful. New homes are established and a new under- standing is 'brought about by the experience. God has washed His world! Nancy Bekkering, 9 :3 :5.

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HOW TO BATH YOUR DELINQUENT When the fatal time has arrived, sit down and carefully plan your attack. From experi- ence, I can tell you that it is best to catch the little monster by surprise and not give him a chance to get away. You usually spot him near his favourite hideout which, in his case, is under my double bed. As you slowly ap- proach him with a horrible, fixed grin, he almost always realizes his intended fate, for the little monkey disappears under the bed. Dropping to your knees you'll look under and glare at him while he sits triumphantly in the far corner. You can be sure he will never come out on his own, but if you bribe him with some kind of candy bar you can catch him in the open a few minutes later. You have won round one. Once you have captured your prey, lead him into the bathroom and order him to undress while you go into the kitchen and collect the necessary articles, which usually include a toy submarine, a space gun, a sea pony, a wash cloth and a bar of soap. When you return to the bathroom, Junior will be sitting in the tub in his swimming suit, ready for the com.ing struggle. Before starting, run over your plan of attack and then begin. As usual, your main weapon is a bar of soap with which you are supposed to clean all the tiny crevices filled with grimy dirt. To add to your problems, Junior won't sit still, and with submarine bullets and space gun rays flying around you, you'll soon begin to feel quite uncomfortable. By this time, Junior will be having a field day, blowing up imag- inary warships, killing invading Martian men and riding his sea pony While you are trying to clean his right ear. Much to your surprise, you usually pull something like a worm out of his ear or a pet centipede out of his hair, but as you become a pro at this tedious job you soon become accustom.ed to these minor things. Finally, Junior will once again appear clean enough to be set free. In most cases, the poor parent is so exhausted after he has washed his baby he can hardly keep his eyes open while he towels his child. Without any doubt, you will feel the same way after you bath your baby? After you have set Junior loose again, cleaned up the mess and lay down to rest, you usually realize you have made one or two hor- rible mistakes: instead of putting baby powder on Junior, you poured Dutch cleanser on him, the baby wasn't Junior! It was his boy friend who was visiting him for a day. This is a typical -bath the average Canadian child receives today. Follow this simple bath- ing routine - you'll have a happy, healthy baby. Jim Turnbull, 9:3:9. THE LONG WAY HOME One night after a long and dismal card game, Pete Malone headed for home. Because he had lost heavily, Pete was in no mood to face his wife. He chose a long route for his homeward journey which led through the ceme- tery and a small wood. As he approached the cemetery, his mind fogged with drink, Pete imagined a faint form in the mist ahead of him. Was it his imagin- ation? When Pete saw nothing more of it he proceeded through the cemetery, past the century-old grave of a southern soldier. At this moment he distinctly saw a form standing in the shadow of a large headstone. It Van- ished at once. Panic-stricken, Pete ran, stumbling, through the cemetery and into the small wood. He felt safer now. Peter looked back as he walked around a tall tree. When he looked ahead again, he saw the figure of a man wearing an old shroud which people were once buried in. Pete turned and ran, but the figure behind him. gained quickly. The next morning a neighbour dropped in on Mrs. Malone. She told her of a frightening incident when she was driving past the cemetery on her way home. It was late at night when she heard a terrifying scream coming from the direction of the small Wood beyond the cemetery! It stopped suddenly and she thought no more of it. Mrs. Malone wasn't listening, she was Won- dering: why her husband had not yet returned homo from last night's card game. Bill Scott. pei