HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Goderich Signal-Star, 1969-08-28, Page 21nw
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. . • .
Reminiscing °
Mitor's Note: The following is an exrracttaken from oJ041GDC1
year book. ' •
LAURA, BROWN G8r SON
Do you remember the day you tried your High SchoolEntrance
Examinations? When after weeks of drilling and reviewing, that June
day inexorably dawned, and you found yourself in the dim, cool
G.C.I. gymnasium? You sat at a strange, ill-fitting desk, your pen
and ink, foolscap paper and blotter in front of you. You were dimly
conscious that this mornent wasthe first time in your young Iife that
you were 4boulutely on your own. You were on a toboggan slide,
and no matter how you landed you couldn't get off. Your heart's
pounding was almost suffocating you, your hands were damp and
. coldone minute and hot and dry the next. The room was fillestmith
boys and girls, some 6f whom you had never seeo, but you kept
your eyes on the strange orge that was the sipervising teacher, and
you prayed you could answer sorne of the questions on the printed
forms she was handing out, and thenwere
surrounded by the awful hush that was worse u intensity than
oUonoc, broken on}y.by the rhythm of fifty or sixity scratching pens
and the quiet rustle of paper.
The day passed and you were so benumbed that you did not
kn6w whothoz.you had answered correctly those questions you were
sure of, and you came out of the dark building into the soft June
afternoon sunshine, feeling washed out and very tired -and very
_
� scared, and the feeling didn't leave you until that Friday, weeks later
in July, when
e'results were printed in the Signal. You did not
have the courage=towait around to get the/uporut the Post Office,
but you took your dog on an all -day hike to the river, and when you
came home mother's face
was yqur answer. And -all through the "rest of the summer, whether
16 you were fishing, or uwu//mm, or washing the dishes, it sang
through your being like a hit song: "Frii going to. High School! I'm
going to Iligh Schco1! I'm goingto High School!"
Do you "remember Porier's Book Store the day High School
started, and you went up for your supplies? The china and the
wallpaper and the art objects were all pushed in the background to
make room bathe tables piled high with note books, loose-leaf
a bindom, boxes of paints, drawing books, and the shelves were packed
tightly with regiments of text books. Do you remember the inky
smell of the freshly printed pages and book oovors, the dry, rubbery
whiff from the e/uoor», the pungent odor of freshly varnished rulers?
Do you remember the orderly con[us|on, the constant clink and
ringing of the cash register, the change that was handed out carefully
w to each youngster, and the hot and anxious faces of the boys and
"i.�" as each painstakingly checked and re -checked his list, .~..°.�
m~^~ �~~~^" °'"''"=
and recounted his money? Do ydu rmember Mr. Porter's handsome,
kindly face, with a smile' for every one, and a special personal word
to you that made you proud for days: "So you're in High School
now! Well! Well!" There was plenty of time, inexhaustible supplies,
and each customer was. tuk#n care of methodically. Finally, when
4. you had checked each item off.your own list against the forbidding
pile of new belongings,, if you had enough left over, you bought
yourSelf a shiny new bookstrap, that smelled gloriously of new,
clean leather. And when you brought -the heavy' load home and laid
out the unfamiliar tools of yout High School education on the
dining room table: the Latin and French text books, the Physics and
Chemistry books,Ahe Geometty_and Algebra voktmes, and you
leafed through their sharp cut pages, they Seemed to belongto you,
, suddenly and finally,- the moment you wrote your name on the fry
leaf, in your -most careful handwriting, and after your uutua you.
wrote the- date, and with a fine flourish, the last line: Goderich
Collegiate oxdtute, .
Doyouzenmunobortba new importance you gained in your house
* because in going to HigkSchoolyoupummdthcougktho8guure[our
times a day? A new glamour entered your life, with the proud
realization that you had become the Town Crier to your family.
--Emu- times a day you were in the midst' .of things -you were one
with the bankers, the lawyers and -the people who kept storesund
worked the 8guate.^And when you stopeat the Post Office at
. noon "and after four :o'clock,. gradually you began to recognize the
judges and the doctors, the bank tellers and the insurance agents, the
.bOokkeepers and the expressmen, the druggists and 'the peoplewho
worked at the Court House, all of whom came to get their mail. And ,
you heard these people talking over bits of news of the day. And
you stopped to' read the current death notice on the post outsid6,
studded with a thousand nail heads, that had held up to public view
the last and final news of a departed resident. - o'
Each day you came home a lithe breathless with something nevo;)s---q.to tell: Who had just died, that the Greyhound Excifrsion boat was
Monday; -
that. there was a big sale on at Dunlop's; that Dr. Macklin had
stopped to ask you how your mother was; that 8Puo`xhud a basket
of great, big NorthernSpies ��o in the window; that the new Dollar
4 Store wasopening next Saturday; that Mr. Videan had the first
boxes of huge purple petunias otitsid-e his store, and you had seen
three people you knew in the bus coming up from the C.P.R.
station. -' `
. And you were given new, imrtant jobto fit your increased
stature in life. You could stop at the bank to make a deposit; You
couldmail out a registered package at the Post Office, you could
ordornowdioingnoomcurtaioxonthowuyhomokomxchooi
And on yourwa1ks to school through the square, the Park trees
spelled the seasons to you: their May -fresh greenness, the full shade
of late June, the dry and intoxicating odor of October leaves.' And
coming home on a frosty winter twilight, when you had stayed late
at school to help plan a Promenade Program, the air in the Square
was filled^with a ringing ~~^` and a high ""-". ,"m— calling out:
"Sku---ting to -night dmWest Street buk.".
And rememberingthese
uUthings,and a thuusandothers related
to your life at High School, do you wonder why it is that whmnevor
you see a group of High School young people walking down a street,
anywhere, in any town, that you are tempted to match your step
with theirs. You'd like to begin where you left off at C}.CJ, to walk
along with them, share a joke with the boys walking behind you,
complain about your homework, to express a bit of apprehension
about to -morrow's examination. You have this feeling of oneness
with every High _8uhnoL8envrudmbxzumume_ioynuzoYo~t1Qwzo/fixe _.
years at G/C.l. you became a person. It was here that you were
taught not only book -stuff, but life -stuff respect for those who
could interpret knowledge to you, admiration [u,thc�tudmnt whose
facile mind could grasp an idea more quickly than yours. You were
gradually becoming aware of human valucu. u[your own growing
personal dignity. You probably were not aware of all this
devn|npmont''xt the time, bdtzotroopocd _onntu unerringly to all
the influences that moulded and shaped thee-pomun that you have
become. '
m There was the teacher whose clear, straight -forward "�p="'�=" ="'e
heiped dcvclop your own immature mental processcs; there were all
the student activities, participation in which sharpened your dmsim
for community and civic interests; there was the Literature teacher
whose direction fashioned your reading habits for life. And recalling
uU.thexc things, ,and 'the |hnuuayi others, you knoW that those -were
the good years.
ov-
m
~
.
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