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| photo: monty maclean |
| Dunrae Gardens, where the tabulae rasae first got written on |
This page, which is part of the Mount Royal High School Class of '59 web site, is open for contributions from former pupils of Dunrae Gardens School. If you would like to share your recollections, or pictures, with your former schoolmates, send them to the .
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| Mr Gibson's class, grade VII, Dunrae Gardens, 1955 |
Do you recognize anyone? If so, check out the photo with key and help us to fill in the blanks!
I remember Mr Gibson, our grade 7 class teacher, as a tall, thin, red-headed, earnest man. This doesn't mean that he was necessarily any of those things, only that I remember him that way. Most of my memories of 50 years ago have probably been passed around amongst my brain cells so many times by now that—like the sentence which gets whispered from person to person around the table until it comes back in totally unrecognizable form—they bear little resemblance to actual events.
But there is one exception: a Chemistry Experiment that we did one fateful day in Mr Gibson's class. My father had been a keen amateur chemist in his youth and, hoping to pass on some of his enthusiasm for the subject to his son, had built a great chemistry lab for me in the basement of our home on Vivian Ave. Producing hydrogen to fill paper bags, which would float to the ceiling (and could be ignited with a load bang), was (quite literally) child's play for me. Mr Gibson had been telling us about the alkalai metals (Lithium, Sodium, Potassium, etc, as I'm sure you will remember). I volunteered to bring some Sodium to our next Chemistry class, an offer which Mr Gibson was happy to accept.
Now, for those of you whose fathers may not have provided you with home Chemistry labs, let me explain that Sodium, although technically a metal, does not in any way resemble the steel plate on your car, or the gold in your wedding ring. It is a soft white substance, quite like baker's yeast in texture.
But the most important thing to know about Sodium, is that it is highly reactive with water. So much so in fact, that it has to be stored, submerged in oil. Even the water vapour in moist air would be enough to start a vigorous reaction.
On the day of the Chemistry Experiment, Mr Gibson put a large bowl of water on the table, and I produced a glass jar containing a sizable piece of Sodium submerged in oil. Mr Gibson, of course, conducted the experiment. But he became a bit unsure of himself and sought my advice as to how much of the Sodium it would be suitable to use in the experiment. I blush to admit that I replied, "Oh, put it all in." Which he proceeded to do. With spectacular consequences. The Sodium whized around in the bowl, caught fire and -- a split second after Mr Gibson had taken a big step back -- EXPLODED. Splattering the table, floor, and closest wall.
To say that this experiment convinced many of my classmates that Chemistry could actually be exciting, would be an understatement. But more was to come. Mr Gibson called in the cleaning lady, who, naturally enough, started to wipe off the table, floor and wall with a WET cloth. Laurel and Hardy could have learned a lot from that poor woman, as she gingerly approached each remnant of Sodium with her damp cloth, only to have it hiss at her.
It was some time before order was restored. And Mr Gibson never again asked for my help in Chemistry class.
Sure, there was a way to walk on sidewalks to Dunrae Gardens school from the end of Cornwall Avenue—four ends of blocks was all it took. But on the other side of the road were fields as far as anyone could see, and parallel to the road was a ditch. I experienced that ditch as a far more interesting walk—especially once the water froze, making neat places for gliding on the patches of ice plus, of course, that scary part where one slid on one's stomach through the culvert—hoping against hope that the ice was thick enough! All anyone could see from the sidewalk would be a row of toques above the ditch (my buddies) proceeding to school. I remember some teacher (I've conveniently forgotten who) telling me that I was leading other kids astray and that was not good.
In spring, the challenge was to not get a 'soaker'. Towards summer, the excitement would be the swamp near to the ditch, with its pollywogs. And near that was a young but dense poplar 'forest', a perfect place in which to lose oneself and others. And I need to mention the thorny crabapple tree alongside the ditch—one that was easy to climb and had a small fort in its branches!
When we were going to school, 'Elmer the Safety Elephant' was featured, somehow. He had a logo, plus we were strongly encouraged to be 'safety monitors' at the crossings near the school (that didn't last long with me—a thankless job where one had to cut short lunch hour, be early to school, and stay a bit late after). However, despite all this foolishness, the teachers did make a fuss of Elmer, and had an event of raising Elmer's flag on the lawn of the school—an event our parents knew about because of foolish notices going home with us a few days before. So there we were, out on the lawn, and I looked at the crowd of parents and saw my father! I hadn't even told him of the event, because the event itself I found embarrassing...but here he had taken time from his downtown lunch hour to be there. I was moved by his effort—I dismissed Elmer, but always remembered my kind father.
Vera Richards, the principal, often wore a pea green suit to work; when my sister encountered her as a pupil 14 years previously, she was wearing the pea green suit. However I found her to be very caring and sensitive, despite her administrative position.
Dunrae Gardens has its own website, Dunrae Gardens School