Yesterday, Biene and I visited the waterfalls at the mouth of the Whatshan River. It was a hot day with a sizzling 32 degrees C. We stopped at our ‘island’ as we have often done in past summers and went for a swim in the crystal-clear and refreshing water between the rocky shoreline and the island. Then we paddled to the waterfalls, taking several pictures of the waterfall. Here is one that I like very much. Enjoy.
Life was school, and school was life for me in those days. Everything revolved around school. Every morning, except on Sundays, school started strictly at 8:00 a:m. and the big portal with the stained glass motto “Not for School but for Life” was locked by the caretaker. If you were late, you had to ring a bell. The custodian would open for you and ceremoniously accompany you to the principal’s office on the school’s top floor. Frau Lindemann reigned like a queen at her huge shiny mahogany desk. She was a short, round lady with snow-white hair, bright blue eyes, and red cheeks. She looked kind, but that was deceiving. She was a strict disciplinarian. She would give you a severe reprimand the first time you were late. If you were late three times, you would be suspended. If you had three suspensions, you would be dismissed from school. We feared Frau Lindemann and would only enter her office with great trepidations.
Our classrooms looked austerely functional. There were giant blackboards on the front and side wall opposite the big windows. We would sit in neat rows of two side-by-side desks facing the central blackboard in front and the teacher’s workstation. The room was bare of pictures, displays, plants, or decorative items. There was nothing to distract us. However, we had the most exciting experiences in this dull physical environment. We would vicariously relive humanity’s quest for scientific knowledge and spiritual truths. Most of our teachers were passionate about expanding our minds. They tried to teach us skills to foster critical thinking, problem-solving, and effective oral and written communication.
With temperatures soaring and the dry spell continuing, birds of all descriptions seek relief at the birdbath in our yard. Recently, I captured a lark sparrow sitting at the rim and drinking from the basin with a solar-powered fountain.
This is the beloved school I attended for nine years. Over the entrance was a stained glass window that read “Non scholae sed vitae.” I hardly ever missed a day and was always eager to go and learn for life.
We started with 45 girls in grade 5, and after nine years, only 15 of us graduated. Our homeroom teacher was called Mr. Meckenstock. He mentored us for the entire school time. We fondly nicknamed him Mecki after our generation’s beloved little stuffed hedgehog toy. Mecki faintly resembled the little toy because he had lost most of his hair. However, he was very strict (like almost all German teachers) and also kind and warm-hearted. Above all, he was a unique character full of contradictions. He taught us English and French with lots of enthusiasm. He was proficient in both languages, even though he had never studied them in his native country. He had never been abroad until we went on a field trip to Paris with him in grade 11. The comical adventures of that memorable trip I will never forget. But I will talk about them in detail later. Mecki laid great stress on oral participation in classroom discussions which I liked. I enjoyed sharing thoughts and opinions on ideas or books we had to read in English and French.
Our math teacher, nicknamed Ata (father), was also popular; this short, round, red-cheeked jovial man was a wizard with numbers. Every math lesson he magically turned into a fun experience by engaging us in group math competitions on the blackboard. He cared that we understood and freely helped us when we had problems. We tried very hard not to disappoint him.
These two outstanding teachers probably had the most significant influence on my academic achievement. I will talk more about other teachers soon; teachers at my time were highly respected. When they entered the classroom, we had to rise and greet them in unison. Whenever we volunteered an answer, we also had to stand up. In their presence, we had to act and speak politely and respectfully. But life is full of paradoxes. We girls were not as docile and disciplined as was expected.Before concluding this post, one more afterthought on our school building. As I mentioned, the boy’s high school was adjacent to ours. The schools were so close that we had to cross the boy’s schoolyard to go down some rock steps to our yard. We were not allowed to talk or interact with the boys when walking to our yard below. The boys would stand at the retaining wall and look down on us. Maybe that reflected an attitude symbolic of that time.
We are home again at our beloved Arrow Lake. We had a wonderful family reunion on Hornby Island and celebrated our granddaughter’s second birthday. Behind our luxurious cabin there was a semi-wild flower garden, where bees and butterflies were in cloud 9 visiting the abundant floral guest houses. One butterfly let its guard down and allowed me to take a picture at close range. My sincere apologies go out to all my blogging friends for not being able to comment as much as I wanted. Thank you for your understanding!
My wife and I travelled to the coast to participate in the celebration of our granddaughter’s second birthday. Breathing in the refreshing ocean air was also a relief for us, escaping the extreme heat of the interior of BC. There is also little time to respond with comments to all the posts my blogging friends published in the meantime. Below is a photo of the beach with a wave causing a dramatic explosion of water over a promontory.
The Peter and Gertrud Klopp Family 