The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

Yt A At a, ES: ore " 57 en? ~l » % _ Ct CS. i Se *y " Sa : ey Rh ce nl Fre Er Ores a ve J APY nS BL NS Xl I % Shed al FG 4 ord fo 2h ¥b -~ Rg pl BATA vay Sens, EH a Sg St 8 ie ~ = : Poa ATR EE TY Te 3 an A VERRY Se AGE oS SCE 2 BES Ga Sg RCSA IE TN Se A: Se 2 a ara a i VE SS LR ENT EYRE Ry X fea (RAR ha <0 on a) Xa a = WA 2 A NT or SAT : SAL SEH >. SEA a Fah ed EVES SENATE Forti, (SASL 1051 we ARAL PEAS EA VRE RAN cy reds DIRTY Serr EN - . PA AL EGNEIRE HEA Td CLE FLASH UNSER LRA The Cults The proliferation of the so-called cults and quasi-religious sects is a disturbing aspect of our' society in the 1980's. However, a provincial government study of 14 of these organizations is probably right when it recom- mends that there be no public inquiry into the operations of these groups. A public inquiry with the power to subpoena witnesses and evidence, and hear testimony under oath would be a costly venture for the tax-payers of this province. And right now with the economy sputtering along and manufacturing plants closing their doors, there are certainly areas of higher priority for the spending of public money. The recently completed study of some of the cults conducted over 20 months at a cost of $430,000 was coramissioned by the provincial government after concerns were raised about the effects of mind-development practises on the physicial and mental well-being of cult members. editorial poge the problem does not warrant the risk of reducing public freedom. The study does suggest that some of the cults are committing fraud, duping members out of money, evading tax on income, or even holding people against their will. If this indeed is the case and it can be proven, then legal action should be launched under laws already on the books. In the past few years there have been numerous documented cases about how some of these organiza- tions attract new members and then exploit them to the fullest in a variety of money-making tasks. ~ Also documented have been the stories of how some of the cults '""program" their members into total submission through sleep deprivation, poor diet, intimidation, and cutting off contact with family, friends and all influences of society in general. ) One aspect of the study seems to suggest that our present-day society itself must shoulder some of the blame for the proliferation of cults. The study says that those who are attracted to cults and become the strongest adherents are almost always young, white, fairly well educated and from a have not been able to find in more conventional aspects of our modern society which is putting increasing emphasis on achievement measured in terms of material gain. Those who fail, or believe they have failed, for one reason or another, to live up to societal expectations, may seek out and be highly vulnerable to the influence of cults. The solution of the problem of cults is not a public inquiry or harassment by governments, the courts or the police. Rather, society must look to its more traditional aspects - the family unit, the school system, conventional religions, culture and recrea- tion - to somehow fill the void in the lives of young people who might otherwise turn to the cults. What's $15,000 Silly is the best way to describe the $15,000 "gift*' from the province-of Ontario to a Hamilton business- man for advertising decals promoting the province on a car he planned to race at the 24-hour Le Mans endurance event in France. But Dr. Daniel Hill, who wrote the final report, rejects the idea of licencing or tougher laws, saying / middle to upper middle class background. The cults fill a need in their members that they The entire issue has proved to be an acute (Turn to page 5) % AK 7 HH 4 77 y L702207 NCES: Ne a i my bill FINAL DAYS I'd like to be able to say that the end of year for a teacher is fraught with sadness, as the delicate flowers you have nurtured during the year (and most of whom have turned to weeds), leave you. Not so. Rather is it a lifting of several stones from a man who is being "pressed" to confess. The pressing was an old-fashion- ed method in which ever-heavier stones were placed on a man's chest until he said "uncle", or "Yeah, I said God didn't exist," or "Yup, I know where the jewels are." Not so. On the last day of school a teacher walks out of the shoe factory, which most schools resemble, and is beholden to no man. Except his wife, kids, dog, car, boat, bank manager, garden. But it's better than being beholden to a lot of gobbling young turkeys whose chief aim in life is to destroy your emotional equilibrium, and a gaggle of administrators whose chief aims in life are discipline, attendance, dress, drugs, and the entire mid-Victorian world that is crumb- ling around them. Things have changed quite a bit in the twenty years I've been teaching. In my first smiley year, my home form gave me a present at Christmas and another at the end of the year. This went on for some time. They may have thought I was a dull old tool, but we parted with mutual respect and good wishes for a happy summer. There was always a gift: one year a bottle of wine and three golf balls, another year a table lighter that didn't -work; another year a pen and pencil set with thermometer that still works. By golly, in those first years, there was a little sadness. Joe had turned from a gorilla into a decent lad, hidden his better instincts behind a mop of hair. Bridget had turned from a four-eyed eager beaver into a bra-less sex symbol. I wished them well, unreservedly. Nowadays, if my home form gave me a present on the last day, the first thing I would do would be to send it to the local bomb squad. If they cleared it, I would open it with tweezers and a mask, wondering which it contained: dog or cat excrement. Ah, shoot, that's not true either. They might put an ice-pick in my tires, set a thumbtack on my chair when I wasn't looking, write the odd obscenity in their textbooks, two words, with my last name the second one, but they wouldn't really do anything obnoxious. Just because I thumped Barney three times this year with my arthritic right fist doesn't mean that we both believe in cor- poral punishment. We're buddies, and I'm going to keep an eye on my cat this summer in case it's strangled. And little Michelle doesn't really hate my guts, even though she deliberately stabbed herself in the wrist with a pen on the last day of school, came up to my desk, looked me straight in the eye, sprinkled blood all over my desk and pants, and asked, "Are you sure I have to write the final exam?' "I'm kidding, of course. Those kids in my home form look on me as a father. Not exactly as a father confessor, mind you, or a kindly old father. More the type of father whom you put the boots to when he comes home drunk and falls at your eager feet. In fact, I'wouldn't be surprised if they give me a present on our last day. Perhaps a cane; possibly a hearing aid. Presented by Robin, an angelic-looking little blonde who kicks Steve, just ahead of her, right behind the kneecaps in the middle of the national anthem, and makes him fall for- ward, kicking backward. The more I think of them the more nostalgic I get for the year we've spent together. At least, I am spent. They're not. They haven't invested anything, so there's nothing to spend. On second thought, I'm not a father figure to them. I'm a grandfather figure. In the last few weeks of school, before it was decided who would be recommended, and who would have to write the final, I noticed a definite increase in solicitude and kindness. If I dropped my book from senile hands, they would pick it up, and instead of throwing it out the window, would hand it to me gravely. And they became nicer to each other, probably out of consideration for my increa- sing sensibility. Instead of tripping the girls as they went to their seats, the huge boys would pick them up and carry them. Instead of throwing a pen like a dart when someone wanted to borrow one, they would take off their boot, put the pen in it, and throw the boot, so the pen wouldn't be lost in the scuffle. And speaking of scuffles, there have been very few of late. Oh, the other day, there was a little one, when Tami, five-feet- minus, grabbed Todd, six-feet-plus, and shoved him out the window, second-storey. No harm done. He was able to grasp the sill, and when she stomped on his fingers, managed to land on his feet, some distance below, in the middle of a spruce tree. Maybe it's all been worth it. They haven't learned much, but I have, and that's what education is all about. Three years from now, I'll meet them somewhere, on the street, in a pub, in jail. The boys will have lost their 14-year old ebullience and the girls will be pregnant, and we'll smile and love each other. L 2 ---- --