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Port Perry Star, 10 Sep 1985, p. 14

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

14 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1985 Story and Photos by Cathy Robb I wish | was going back to school Geez, am | ever glad I'm not going back to school I miss those long ex- pensive shopping trips with my mother, where she bought me five new sets of socks and underwear, one for each day of the week, a new dress on sale at Woolworth's and a spiffy new math set (which | never, ever used but received faithfully year after year) I don't miss the back- to-school haircut where your ears were lowered and your bangs slashed a ridiculous five miles above your eyebrows. I miss those Labour Day ~~ last-days-of- summer blues which always sunk in during the dog days of August, a blissful moody feeling that only high school students on cool summer nights can truly appreciate. I don't miss feeling sick to my stomach, as | always, always did on the first morning of school. Worried about who my teacher was go- There's nothing sweeter than the lunch bell (except possibly the 3 p.m. bell), which signals deliberate, thorough decimation of your mother's carefully packed brown bag, ing to be and if I'd still have any friends produc- ed in me a thick choking nausea that lasted until 9 a.m. when I'd realized nothing had really changed at all since June. I miss those sweet young teachers who generated warmth and enthusiasm and tried ex- tra hard to make school an okay place to be. I don't miss the cranky old toots who put a ham- merlock on your ear, swatted your fingers with the pointer and told you you'd be in prison by the time you were nine if you continued to act up. I miss daydreaming at my desk. | especially miss planning what | would pin up on the bulletin boards "if only I was the teacher. I also miss being asked to clean off the blackboards (which gave you a perfect opportunity to slap chalk dust all over your nearest and dearest arch enemy). I don't miss those dreary hot, hot days of September, stuck in a cramped wooden desk, waiting painfully for the clock to turtle its way to (Turn to page 15) in order to leave lots of time left over for goofing around. Brad Dwyer, 14, Billy Vine, 11, and Chris Dulmage, 14, are no exceptions. Why does this always happen? The teacher takes all but ten minutes of the period to ramble on and on about the rise and fall of the paramecium and then tells you to -- \ > i igs 2 3 i copy 20 minutes of work down from the blackboard. Gerry Stevens, 12, was racing the clock to get everything down before lunch. gWelcome School One of the greatest things about the first week back to school is taking in the sights ---- all those colourful, imaginative decora- tions the teachers have pasted on every available bulletin board, wall and door. Above, eight year old Jody Keating eyeballs the art- work as she knocks on her classroom door. Eg! RL AF 3 Sagi t - WEEE OR Note: no bloomers in sight. These days the gym classes are co- ed and nobody minds because nobody has to wear stupid-looking uniforms. Above, a class of older kids chase around soccer balls dur- ing an outdoor Phys Ed lesson. a

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