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Jim Thomson
I have run into Dave Howie, our rugby coach, on a number of occasions. He is living in North Van and still looks very fit. He remembers our New Zealand Shield winning team fondly. He particularly has fond memories of Don Crompton’s skills and leadership abilities.
A number of classmates have told me that they are having trouble accessing my recollections of our school days. So with your indulgence I will post them here.
I remember:
Abandoning Mr. Davies run to swim in Peter Chataway’s pool and telling Mr. Davies upon our return that we were wet because we were running through lawn sprinklers. I am certain he knew what we were up to.
Sneaking down to the Fraser Arms for a beer at lunch time in Grade 12 and running into Mr. Bride, our social studies teacher. He said, "Well boys, I won't tell that you were here if you don't tell that I was here."
Lyall Knott answering Miss Scheiderbauer's favourite question, "What is (any country's) leading export?" with "Soy Beans!" Ms. Scheiderbauer never seemed to realize that Lyall's answer was always "Soy Beans!"
Corry Fraser owned one of the first portable tape recorders. He taped, “Hell-oooo Miss Scheiderbauer" over and over on the tape. He hid the recorder in his binder and when it became quiet in the class he turned on the tape. Ms. Scheiderbauer looked up but could not see anyone's mouth moving. She began wandering up and down the isles trying to figure out who was calling out, "Hello Miss Scheiderbauer". When she neared Corry's desk he stopped the recording. When she returned to her desk Corry rewound the tape and started it again. The mysterious voice almost drove poor Miss Scheiderbauer crazy. She never did solve the "phantom" voice mystery.
We were the only Vancouver high school to have a morning recess. In the days before copying machines some teachers would chalk their short quizzes on the blackboard and cover it by pulling down a map that was anchored just above the board. Our social studies class and our mini quiz with Ms. Scheiderbauer was scheduled for just after recess. The room was left unlocked and Frank Allison snuck into the classroom at recess. When we were finally seated and paper for our quiz answers was handed out Miss Scheiderbauer went to the front of the class. Standing facing us, she told us the amount of time we had to complete the quiz. With her hand on the ring used to raise and lower the map and her eyes focused on her watch, she tugged on the ring and told us to begin now. A gasp when up from the class. She turned to look to see what was causing the reaction. There, scotch taped over the quiz was a Playboy centrefold so carefully attached by Frank. The map was hurriedly pulled down and quiz given the next period.
Remember "The Brethren" in grade 9? We were a group of Hi-Y want-a-be’s that wore french berets and smoked pipes. I think that John Sloan started the group but I could use some help on this.
Remember the excitement of waiting to see "The Beatles" on The Ed Sullivan Show?
“DOC” BALLARD
This was the nickname we gave to Mr. Ballard, in “honour” of a popular brand of dog food. Mr. Ballard was our homeroom teacher and I had the distinction of being his English student for 2 consecutive years. Mr. Ballard was well known for 3 important traits:
1. He hated making students stay after school because he had a running date to play competitive ping pong with Mr. Davies.
2. His lessons, including his quizzes, could be taken off track if you engaged him in a discussion of the current state of pole vaulting. The fibreglass pole was very new and the 16 foot barrier for a world record was being assaulted.
3. He was famed for the rumour that he could do a one handed push-up. We actually talked him into shedding his suit jacket and demonstrating his ability, successfully I might add, in front of the class in the spring of 1965.
In high school I never took care of my textbooks. In fact, I lost a number of them and abused a number more. If you recall, we were issued textbook at the beginning of the year. Each textbook was assigned a stamped number and our homeroom teacher recorded the number of each of the assigned texts and their condition. If we failed to return that book at the end of the year we were charged for it’s issued value minus one grade for reasonable wear and tear. If we returned a text that was degraded by more than one category we were also assigned a fine in accordance to the level of abuse we had inflicted. We could not receive our report card or our annual until the penalties were paid. I was facing a substantial cost which I could not afford, nor did I have the courage to ask my parents to advance me the money to pay the fines.
I asked a number of classmates to help me, and in some cases, themselves, by implementing a simple but effective plan. I suggested to Mr. Ballard that we could help him speed up the bureaucracy by taking over the simple task of checking the serial numbers of the text while he used his expertise to examined the condition of the returned book. The books were then placed in piles on the floor according to their condition.
This exercise took place on the final day of the school year, after the exam schedule and on the day that we were to receive our annuals. It was a chaotic time. Students were noisy and impatient. We were eager to receive our annuals and have our friends sign them. Mr. Ballard was at his desk while “volunteer” students were supposedly checking off the serial numbers. Given that ‘THOMSON’ was near the end of the alphabet, I was one of the last to return my textbooks. It was simple. While Mr Ballard was busy checking other student’s books I, and others, would take a replacement for the missing text from the appropriate pile. Or, if need be, exchange a damaged book for one from the pile of the appropriate condition and place my damaged book in its’ corresponding pile. When called, I proceeded to Mr. Ballard’s desk where the “volunteer” student would “verify” that my book matched the issuing number. The text was then passed to Mr. Ballard to check the condition. Finally another “volunteer” student would return the books to their appropriate piles.
With all the confusion and noise, Ross Ellison. was exiting the room through a window of the ground floor room. Ross then re-entered the school through the front entrance and returned via the classroom door. Ross did this repeatedly during the hour or so that we were held captive. I remember, on more than one occasion, Mr. Ballard’s look of confusion, when he spied Ross entering the room and racking his brain trying to remember when Ross was given permission to leave. This continued until the textbook checking process was concluded and the last annuals were distributed. We were finally dismissed and searched the hallways for friends from other classes to say goodbye and to sign our annuals. That is my memory of my last day at Magee.
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