All Good Things Must Come to an End

They say that all good things must come to an end. After a combined total of 43 years at Vanscoy School, Kevin Derdall and Lois Smith are ready to put down the chalk and start their muchdeserved retirements.

Kevin’s teaching career started in 1992 in North Battleford. In 1999 he and his family made the move to Vanscoy and he joined the Vanscoy School staff as a classroom teacher. Kevin was the go-to guy when it came to extra curriculars. It’s likely that every student to have gone through Vanscoy School since he started has either been coached by him or part of an activity that was led by him. Kevin became the Vice principal in 2001 and made the move to principal in 2007. Kevin has been such an integral asset to Vanscoy School in all facets of education, extra-curricular activities and community involvement.

Lois’ teaching career started in 1987 as a substitute teacher in Saskatoon. After moving to the Vanscoy area and having her family, she started working as an EA and teacher substitute. At that time, Lois also began driving the school bus which she did for 9 years. She accepted her first teaching contract in 2002 and spent the following 2 years at Vanscoy School. Her next contract took her to Pike Lake School where she taught for one year before rejoining the Vanscoy School staff which she has been a part of ever since. During her time at school, Lois has taken on many roles and has taught every elementary grade. From coaching, to providing leadership, to organizing events, there isn’t much going on at the school that she

WINNERS on Page 2

isn’t involved in! Lois’ love for the school and community is evident in all that she does and is something that we admire.

The commitment and dedication these two have for our school is paramount. They have coached numerous sports teams, planned hundreds of field trips, and spent countless hours organizing and attending school functions.

As we count down the final weeks of the school year and our time with Kevin and Lois, we know that they are already dreaming up their next big adventures. Kevin’s days will likely consist of hockey, golf, con-

Coming in July RM Review High School Grad Photos Class of 2023

In the wake of the recent RM of Vanscoy Council announcement of their intention to withdraw from the Delisle and District Fire Commission, concerned citizens held a couple of public meetings to discuss their opposition to the decision and to demand more transparancy and consultation before any such decision is implemented.

The citizens decided to organize a petition to force a resolution on council to cease proceeding with thier intention to withdraw and hold public meetings to discuss what steps have been taken, if any, to provide alternate solutions for relacing the current firefighting services.

About 45 residents are collecting signatures for the petition. They were recently set-up in Delisle on May 13th and have already collected about 200 signatures, half of what is needed for the resolution.

struction projects, and quality time with his family. Lois will likely be found in her garden, tackling new projects, with her grandkids, and crossing travel destinations off her list! We invite you all to join us in celebrating these incredible educators and their career achievements at a come and go celebration at Vanscoy School on Tuesday, June 27th from 6:30-8:30pm.

We are also looking for any photos of Lois or Kevin from their time at Vanscoy School. Please email them to vanscoyschool@spiritsd.ca

Submitted

Jeslyn Wilson

Congratulations to the Winners of our Annual Mother’s Day Contest

Grand Prize Winner is Annissa Ness

The Trumpet

Mrs B and I went to a concert the other night - Herb Alpert, the trumpet player guy - remember him? Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass?

Mr Alpert is 88 - yes, 88 - and still touring. It was a pretty relaxed and informal concert - he doesn’t need the money, or the exposure, it’s all just fun for him - and he made it fun for the audience, too.

The band consisted of Mr Alpert and a piano player and a drummer and a guitarist. It also included Mrs Alpert (Lani Hall), his wife of 50 years, who provided vocals (and a fair bit of kissing and hugging stuff on stage, too).

Mr Alpert explained he had first met his wife when he was putting together a tour to promote one of his new albums. He was adding singers and musicians to his core group and the future Mrs Alpert was selected as one of the singers. They were all going to tour in a big bus.

Mr Alpert described how he cautioned all the men in the tour, cautioned them several times, in fact, to not get involved with the women in the tour - it just wouldn’t be professional, not professional, at all. He then admitted to us, he had put out that caution just to clear the field for himself, reduce the number of competitors for his potentially future wife.

(When it comes to affairs of the heart and getting the girl, ethics are not one of the primary considerations.)

I wasn’t reluctant to accompany Mrs B to the concert, but I have to admit I had some reservations - I'm not much on concerts, in the first place, and besides, the trumpet has never been my favourite instrument. Well, I guess I can’t say never. It was at one time, my instrument of choice, you might say - until . . .

I got expelled from band class in grade 8. That was the first year of high school. The class was designed to introduce us to playing real instrumentsclarinets and trumpets, drums and French horns - no kazoos or recorders.

We got to choose what instrument we wanted to play and Lyle, one of my neighbourhood buddies, and I, had decided on the trumpet - we figured it was easy to carry and it was loud and with only 3 buttons (or whatever you call those things) how hard could it be to learn? (We also thought it was cool that there was a fourth button, a valve, on the bottom of the trumpet to drain the spittle that formed when blowing into the trumpet. I told you we were 13, right?)

What we did learn - and right smartly at that - is that the trumpet is a very difficult instrument to learn to play and that you actually had to practiceand somewhere in the nebulous fog of our unformed brains we realized that this was not good, not good at all, sorta seemed like homework.

So, we didn’t, Lyle and I - we didn’t practice, that is. We missed a few practice classes and as a result, at the beginning of the next class, in front of the whole class, the instructor told the two of us, just the two of us, that we wouldn’t be allowed to play in the upcoming school assembly.

The instructor, Mr Wragg or Captain Wragg, as he liked to be called (he’d been in the military) was more or less middle-aged. He was not a tall man and a fair bit on the roundish side. He wore his thinning grey hair combed straight back and held down with Brylcreem (remember that stuff? A little dab will do ya?)

He also wore his shirt tucked inside his boxers so when he put his hands in his pant pockets, as he was inclined to do, his pants, elasticized suspenders notwithstanding, would slide down a tad or so, exposing the top few inches of his florally decorated under-shorts. Major gross-out and snicker time for a class full of adolescent 13-year-olds.

When Captain Wragg declared us as personas non grata at future band events, Lyle and I, sitting next to each other, exchanged goofy self-conscious grins and high-fived each other. Totally juvenile, no question - but from 13-year-olds, not a complete surprise, either.

Captain Wragg, however, seeing our display of obnoxious immaturity, flushed fire-engine red and went immediately and totally ballistic.

And he took a run at us - he wanted a piece of us, he wanted to lay hands on us, and it wasn’t going to be for a friendly hug. But Lyle and I were sitting in the second row of chairs and Captain Wragg had to bull his way through the first row, the clarinet players, mostly girls, to get at us.

And he almost made it.

But he got hung up on the chairs and the music stands and the clarinet players in the first row and tripped and fell, ending up on his face right in front of Lyle and me, right at our feetsprawled out on his face right at our feet.

Fortunately, and I’m mostly guessing here, no shorts got soiled - not even Captain Wragg’s - but again, just guessing.

As you might expect, that pretty much put paid to my musical career - a total and spectacular flame-out.

Other than that, my memory draws an absolute and complete blank at the aftermath that ensued - can I claim trauma induced amnesia? - yeah, I think I’ll go with that.

Herb Alpert first started playing the trumpet at age 8.

If only I had been lucky enough to get that kind of an early start . . .

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