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

<» BACK TO SCHOOL 95 .‘ Like many grade schools in Waterloo Region, my school playground had just about anything a kid would want. We had a baseball diamond, tire swings, a Jungle Jim, etc. However, some days those things just could not beat the simpler things in life Like mud. All those little feet stomping the soft spring soil at recess left irresistible pools of coze. Not all mud was the same either. You‘ve heard of "packâ€" ing snow", well one day in the schoolyard we had "packing mud". I remember feeling the power of the wellâ€"packed dirt in my hands. It just begged to be thrown. Many of my deviant peers felt the same and when the supervising teacher disapâ€" peared around the comner, all hell broke loose. Mud flew in every direction and for a few Nolhing beats mud for a littHle schoolyard fun: MEMORIES Miss C. wielded the strap like a cop wields his billy while walking a beat. In our small school she was principal. secretary and our teacher. We were a class of 13 unruly Grade eight stuâ€" dents that she had to tame. Hardly a day went by without someone being strapped. Adjoining our classroom was the office and we were expected to sit quietly and copy our history or write out our spelling while she attended to the "business" of running a school. Being such a small group, she had everyone‘s voice committed to memory and would enter Worth a thousand straps the class with a list of names of those who had been talking while she was out of the.room. (I sometimes wonder if she didn‘t just lurk on the other side of the wall, strap in hand, waiting to pounce at the sound of an adolescent voice.) fi;BEe;a'eg would be lined up at the front of the room. Holding her hand under yours, she would deliver two straps on each hand, not too hard if you were a first or infrequent offender; with all her might if you were a repeat. We would all get a reprieve if M., her pet, was among the delinquents. n o e aereasii ts mM Omeennin ies J.B. could not stand to get the strap. He would cry and carry on and generally put our entire class to shame. But in the end, it was J.B. who delivered us from the strap monster. He did what every one of us dreamt of doing. In his fear, he pulled his hand away and Miss C. hit herself. J.B. didn‘t see the look on her face â€" he was too busy sniffling. I was next in line. It was worth a thousand straps! & Betty Dic Waterloo (Winner of $100 Krebs Gift Certificate) moments none of us cared what the teachers or our parents would do about it. Until it happened. At the height of the mud fight, unbeknownst to me,. the supervising teacher rounded the comer to investigate the commotion. The teacher, Mr. Perâ€" son (really), was hidden behind the broadâ€"sideâ€"ofâ€" aâ€"barn head of one of my mud enemies. I took aim and hurled a line drive right for him. When he ducked, Mr. Person turned his head just in time to take it in the face. When he took off his glasses and saw me, | stood alone as the only one in sight with dirty hands. L Oe 4 r® ~® ® BRING THIS AD FOR FREE GIFT =® == = Are you moving?? Do you know someone who is? HOUSE WARMING GIFT C e ud us with your hookup and this ad Be', | a= =BRING THIS AD FOR FREE GIFT = === == IN THE NEW WING CONESTOGA MAL EFREE e V > Drop into