Western Canada High School - Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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BOOK Page eighty-seven Uokps Jack Cameron—“Didja know ya can’t hang a man with a broken arm?” Alpha—“Is that so? Why not?” Jack—“Ya gotta use a rope.” Carman Johnson (flipping a coin)—“Heads I go to a show, tails I go to a dance, and on the edge I do my homework.” Proud Parent—“My son has some very original ideas.” T.E.A.S.—“Yes. Especially in Algebra.” His Mother—“Tom is getting along very well in school—he learns French, Latin and Algebra.” Now Tom say “Hello” to the lady in Algebra. -K T.E.A.S.—“How much time do you spend on your homework?” Costello—“An hour per.” T.E.A.S.—“Per what?” Costello—“Perhaps.” Kenneth Lebbert—“In what course do you intend to graduate?” Jack Biddell—“Oh, in the course of time.” Miss McCracken—“Who was Sir Isaac Brock?” Jarvis—“The fellow who posed for Brock’s monument.” Albert Laven—“I hear Bob Cook plays the banjo. How’s he getting along?” Chamberlain—“Well, he’s got so far now we can tell whether he’s playing or tuning.”

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Page eighty-six YEAR Let us consider: Those in authority decree that we are to write our home¬ work, classwork and examinations all in ink. If we use pencils we are detained after school and we have to write our homework over again in ink. Therefore we depend on ink to pursue a successful High School career. But should you go into any classroom, search diligently for half an hour, and discover a bottle of this vital fluid, you might consider yourself exceptionally fortunate. Indeed you have no inkling how scarce it is. It is as rare as money. Where the students keep it I can’t imagine. Perhaps they hoard it at home, buried beneath the hearth, and upon arriving home at night pour it back and forth between two tumblers, gloat¬ ing, as a miser counts his gold. Certainly they never have any at school. Perhaps you’ll say that I am no exception to this rule. But, with all due modesty, I must refute this slander. For, one day, desirous of making myself a shining example, I bought myself a bottle, took it to school and placed it in full view upon my desk, meaning it of course to be a gentle hint. However, the stu¬ dents in my room do not seem to possess the faculty of recognizing gentle hints, and imagine my surprise when, like a flock of vultures, a dozen of them swooped down on me, knocked me down, trampled on me, and lowered my ink to half its former volume. After this episode, I had no more faith in my fellow students, so I resorted to the policy of hiding the ink in my desk behind books. But one morning, t wo days afterward, I was busily engaged in writing an examination, towards the end of the period, when my pen ran dry. Hastily I lifted the lid of my desk and moved my books to get at the ink, only to find what—no ink! My simple artifice had failed, the lust for ink had proved too strong in some student’s breast. In des¬ peration I scanned the horizon for signs of ink, but as usual there was none in sight. Pitifully I entreated those around me to spare me a drop of ink. Ha! As well ask of their very life blood! I received nought but rude rebuttals and stony glares. The teacher had none— Writing, writing, everywhere— But never a drop of ink— Alas! What was I to do? Then the bell rang—too late now to write more, even if I had some ink. Mournfully I handed in my paper, only half answered. But they would pay for this, these vipers! Pilferers of ink! That night before I went to sleep, I planned my revenge. Oh, it was a cunning plan! The next day I carried it into execution. I purchased myself another bottle of ink, and poured a little into an empty ink bottle which I had previously filled with aqua regia (which as you know dissolves gold and rubber). This was to color the acid blue. Then I took this substitute (for ink) to school where I placed it in a conspicuous position on my desk, to act as a decoy, after doing which I left the room. In a few minutes I returned to find, as I had expected, that the ink had vanished. Now I bring my ink to school without a qualm. But such forceful methods should not have to be adopted. Some other way is necessary to remedy this evil. Our present system of municipal distribution of a private utility at the owner’s loss must go by the board. 1 might suggest that all students be compelled to bring a new bottle of ink to school every three months. Or, perhaps, an inkome tax might be levied on the students, the pro¬ ceeds of which would go to a fund destined to supply them with ink. These are drastic measures, however, and would probably lead to open rebellion. But they are suggestions which you can take or leave, whichever you please. At any rate, I have brought to the attention of those who read this, a situa¬ tion which must be rectified. If others can suggest a better solution, let them propose it to the School Board. I have done my duty.

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Page eighty-eight YEAR Marg. Russell claims men have less courage than women. We quote her as saying: “Imagine a man with fifteen cents in his pocket trying on eleven suits of clothes.” In playing cards a good deal depends on a good deal. Mr. Johnson entered the class and began: “Now students, pay particular attention to this: I have here a particularly fine specimen of a dissected frog.” Slowly he unfolded the paper, and disclosed some sandwiches and cold chicken. “But great Caesar,” he exclaimed, ‘surely I ate my lunch.” Goodison—“Throw up your hands—I’m going to shoot you.” Hoagland—“What for?” Goodison—“I always said if I ever met a man homlier than I, I’d kill him .” Hoagland—“Am I homlier than you?” Goodison—“You certainly are.” Hoagland—“Well then, go ahead and shoot.” Miss Atkinson—In trouble with the gears of her car on Eighth Avenue, absent-mindedly said to the point duty policeman—“I can’t attend to you yet, put your hand down.” A Gordon Cooper applied for a job in the summer holidays at a circus. The manager said, “Now, all you have to do is disguise yourself in the ape- skin and swing about on the rafters.” Everything went well for a few days, but one day Gordon accidentally fell into the lions’ cage. The audience gasped as the lion leaped towards the unfor¬ tunate “ape.” Just as Gordon was about to scream, the lion whispered: “Don’t scream, you fool, you are not the only school-boy looking for work this summer.” A book salesman approached Mr. Collier the other day and attempted some high-pressure salesmanship. “This book,” he said, “will do half your work for you.” “Good,” replied Mr. Collier. “I’ll take two.” Miss Sage—“Now, Sturgeon, what did Sir Walter Rawleigh say to Queen Elizabeth when he laid down his cloak for her to walk on?” Sturgeon (film struck)—“He said, ‘step on it, kid.’ ” • A.C.C.—“Why is Nickle sitting all day in Room 6?” T.E.A.S.—“Well, four teachers were hot on his trail this morning, and this seemed to be the only way to save his life.”