by Marion Mackworth

The pictures of the marching band in the 1950's have no names attached. This is a shame because the band went all over (Schomberg, Jackson's Point) to participate in country fairs and Santa Claus parades. It died out as the school became more sophisticated but those early years were reflective of the rural community the school served.

In 1958, when I first went to MDHS just after the summer I turned 13, my walk to school started at George St. where the Lions built the first swimming pool. The walk itself was a mile or two. En route, I passed cows at pasture, a mink farm, a house where a retired RCMP officer who had served in the North for many years had a valuable collection of Inuit carvings and drawings who interested visitors, the house of an old woman who had fabulous comics from the 20's and so on. It was a village with the colour and texture that all villages have. It exists only in memories now.

The smokers lurked by the bridge before the rise to the school. This was the bridge that was knocked out by Hurricane Hazel on Friday, October 15, 1954 (thus ruining the Sadie Hawkins dance scheduled for the evening). I note as well that there were around 40 graduates from the school that year.

A student at grade 10 chose the academic stream of 5 years or the technical lasting 4 years. In the early years, everyone took agricultural science.

I wish the website included photos of the teachers of that period. There were 15 in 1957-58. Marie Cole taught Latin when it was still an entrance requirement for university. We were lucky to have her as university entrance was available only if one did well on the grade 13 exams. Exams were actually an integral part of the year. In senior grades they were 3 hours long and held three times a year to get into shape for the Provincials.

Miss Lemmon taught French and was 'formidable' but fair. We were frightened of her and she was tough. The curriculum was 'lire et traduire'. Many of us went on to use the French she drilled into us.

Mr. Garnish had been injured during the war and he was an early warning system for unsettled weather and carried his ashtray around in his pant cuffs. Mr. Pile had a voice like a rasp and it was deadly if one had Math after lunch and the sun was shining. I know he was a fine Math teacher. (Others in that first yearbook were Mr. Clubine, Mr. Allen, Mr. Fallaise, Mr. Holland, Mr. Barnhardt, Miss Andrews, Mrs. Champion, Miss Rogers, Miss McGin, Miss Uren)

The point here is that though the school was tiny, the teachers were good. This was still a village where the village library was on Main Street in the old Police Station and the books were shelved alphabetically, by author. A new library would be later built beside the new Municipal Hall, across from the train station. And yes, the trains ran regularly.

Later, as the school grew, new teachers came. Mr MacDonald, who taught History, brought intellectual excitement. He taught us that there were magazines like The Atlantic Monthly and papers like the Christian Science Monitor, sources we could use to begin research and see ideas explored. He taught us how to write research essays. His friend, Mr. Pressberger, came and went. For some, he left behind a legacy of interest in the Classics and the Classical period. Small village, small school, great grounding.

I have no nostalgia for the good old days. They weren't in many ways. As with many others, my life 'started' after high school. I suspect that has not changed much.