"I'm a plebian -- one of the rank and file -- not a patrician like my sister Beth."
The voice uttering the self description is still a strident one and the blue eyes behind the round wire-frame glasses are as piercing as the day Miss Hazel F. Hay announced her retirement from teaching history and Latin at Listowel District Secondary School.
That was back in 1957 after teaching for 41 years in the same school from which she graduated.
Today Miss Hay lives in the same imposing home in which she was born on Aug. 11, 1891, the sixth of nine children "and the most difficult one" of Mr. and Mrs. John C. Hay. On the eve of the centennial of her beloved town, she consented to be interviewed even though "the idea of this scares me stiff."
Of her sisters and brothers, only three are living: her older sister Ruby, Mrs, A. E. Tatham, 94, of Edmonton, her younger sister Beth, Mrs. F. H. Terry of Toronto who is presently visiting her; and her younger brother Blake who is her neighbor in Listowel.
Of the rest of the family now deceased, the eldest, Erle was a dentist in Hancock, Mich., Mervyn returned to Listowel in 1921 to become manager of the Imperial Bank; George died in England and Gordon was a sales manager for the Fiat Manufacturing Company in Chicago.
It's been a busy spring for Miss Hay. Returning from visiting her sister in Toronto just after the early April blizzard, she was a special guest at the 100th birthday party of her dear friend, Mrs. Nettie Riddolls, another long-time resident of the Listowel area. Then earlier this month she attended the 60th anniversary of her 1915 University of Toronto graduation class. Since then she has entertained a "stream of visitors" and is busy preparing for more during centennial celebrations.
Despite the uncomfortably hot, humid day and her "utterly exhausted" state, Miss Hay had little difficulty in filling two hours with personal memories and observations, upbraiding herself frequently for her lack of organization.
"I was blessed with wise and wonderful parents," she recalls. "My father always emphasized the importance of education. 'The easiest thing to carry around in life is a good education,' he used to say. And he desired the best for his children. He offered a university education to any of us who wanted it."
Hazel was the only girl of the family to take her father up on his offer. But then the decision was quite in keeping with her independent nature.
"Mervyn's son Donald, now also deceased, was a teacher; another son Peter is a graduate of Western University and is teaching in Toronto; a daughter Alice now resides in Oakville. John, son of Beth, is a graduate of Waterloo and is teaching in Toronto; Dr. Kent Hay of Michigan, son of Blake and Pearl Hay is a graduate of Western University. And Ruby has two daughters; Ellen at home who is a university graduate and supervisor of child adoption for the Province of Alberta and Joan who is married to Dr. David Fawcett.
"So you can see the second generation heeded the advice of their grandfather."
Mr. and Mrs. John C. Hay lived to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary.
"I'm not kidding when I say I was a difficult child. I'd run away from home twice before I was 10 -- with my mother's consent of course -- she was a wise woman.
"The first time I was six and after being punished, I said to my mother, 'I don't like you,' and she agreed with me that if I didn't like her then I shouldn't have to live with her.
"I ran out of the house bawling -- you could hear me all over the street -- and I got exactly one block north, to where Jacksonville is now. But at that time it was a hay field and I found a big hay mow and promptly fell asleep where my brother found me."
Her second flight from home was of a more dignified and planned nature although it too followed punishment.
"This time I was nine and I decided I wasn't going to live at home anymore. My cousin, Mr. F. W. Hay, had always said he wanted a little girl and I thought I go and live with him. I got my father's travel bag and with my mother's assistance I arrived at his door with it all packed. In the meantime, mother had phoned him with the assurance that I'd be home by dark. And I was. By the time it got dark I decided I'd forgive them and returned home. Mother never mentioned it to me."
Besides the urge to travel, the young Hazel had a penchant for holding revival meetings in the family home.
"As a child my ambition was to be one of the circus girls who either jumped on the horse's back or on the trapeze. A circus would come through town every year and this is where I got my ideas of course.
"My next ambition was to belong to the Salvation Army and to play the tambourine -- and it was very strong. I was raised in a strict Methodist home and I would hold these revival meetings. I don't know how my mother put up with me."
Miss Hay credits her high school teacher of classics (Latin, Greek and history), Mr. Ramsay, with inspiring her to be a teacher.
While she excelled in the same "classics" she confesses she was "just hopeless" in mathematics.
"I was put through -- yes I was. My father used to say, 'I think there's something wrong with that girl,' and to this day I really thing I was perceptibly handicapped when it came to mathematics. I could memorize, but if anyone so much as changed a letter on the side of a triangle it was fatal."
While she deplores the lack of discipline in the modern classroom, to this day Hazel Hay is a firm believer in having a wide selection of subjects available for students.
Her lack of mathematical skill however did not keep her from distinguishing herself in Victoria College at the University of Toronto. In the final year of her four-year general arts course, she was elected the head girl of Annesley Hall. She was also leader of the government in the Women's Literary Society and in that year the society won the president's debating shield.
The character description placed her beside her graduation picture in the 1915 university year book is as true today as it was then: "A girl who's not afraid to say her say, though a whole town's against her."
The following year while she was attending the College of Education, the dean of the residence took ill and the Board of Regents asked Hazel Hay to be the acting dean of Annesley for the year.
Graduating with the top "A" group of teachers, she was advised by her mentors "never to go back to my home town to teach."
She differed with the opinion.
"Why that's exactly where I am going," she forcefully declared.
And so it was that she arrived back in Listowel with her degree and ready to teach.
"But there was no position open at the time. One arose though and it was offered to me by the chairman of the board who was our next door neighbor at the time. I didn't have to apply for it.
"I can remember telling my father, 'I'm going to teach at the high school and I'm going to get $800 a year for doing it.'
"I can still see his face. He just stared at me. 'Oh no you're not,' he said. 'You've never taught a day in your life. I pay taxes in this town and we're not paying that kind of money for someone with no experience.'
"With that he put his hat on, went out the door and over to see our neighbor. And, you know, the board rescinded their previous motion and made a new one, cutting my salary down by $100."
When she commenced teaching in 1916, Listowel High School had six classrooms, employed six teachers and had an enrolment of 90 students.
When she retired in 1957 the staff had grown to 20 teachers and the enrolment to 470 students. Today Listowel District Secondary School has over 50 teachers and over 1,000 students.
"Discipline was never a problem with me," she declares and the number of former students who will back her up are legion.
Upon her retirement, James Nichol, a writer with the Toronto Star wrote her, "... I have this to say I swore at you every day when I was at school but I swear by you every day since I left..."
Rev. Ronald Davidson, minister at Knox Presbyterian Church, Saskatoon, wrote, "...I loved Miss (Roxie) Ellis. I never loved you, but no teacher was ever respected more by me than you were. I just want you to know I'm here because you were there."
In his letter, one of Miss Hay's most successful students, J.E. Wallace Stirling who went on to become president of Stanford University, reminded her that "during the first year I was in your Latin class, you scared the daylights out of me, and at one time suggested, and not without good reason, that I should considered digging ditches as an alternative to whatever else I may have had in mind."
Another student, Charlie Slack, now vice president of Prudential Life Insurance Company, wrote a tribute to her in the 1957 high school year book:
"... Since that day in September, 41 years ago, when she joined the staff of Listowel HIgh School, Miss Hay has unselfishly devoted her services to this school and this district and has built up an enviable reputation as one of the finest teachers in the province. Over the years she has taught different subjects, but has always specialized in Latin and history. Her clear and forceful methods of teaching have stimulated the minds, aroused the curiosity, and held the attention of many students, some of whom have gone on to achieve great prominence. Her actions and personality have set an unsurpassed example for her students and contemporaries. Her enthusiasm, integrity, diligence and determination have developed habits of study, industry and accuracy in the pupils associated with her. She exhibits great interest in the welfare of her students and in their problems, whether personal or academic. Those who come to her for advice find her a sympathetic and warmhearted listener. Her tremendous energy and 'joie de vivre' combine with these other qualities to make her a very pleasant and amusing companion."
Upon her retirement Miss Hay also received a letter of appreciation from the Department of Education.
Of her own teaching methods, she says, "I feel I was a much better teacher of boys than I was of girls because, typical of my sex, girls are prone to cherish a grudge and resent criticism."
Although Miss Hay thinks now she might have been too severe in her teaching methods, she wouldn't change her attitude.
"Those students knew I loved them even though I gave them hell. I never held a spite against a student. Mind you, they were never very fond of me when they were there. They didn't think much of me at the time; they had to get away before they could see what I was doing.
"I was very proud of the student who reached the heights, but I have the utmost respect for the average student -- the one who had to work hard to make it and who now belongs to the middle class -- the citizens who are the props of our society."
Of her teaching peers she reserves the highest of praise for two longtime friends, both of whom also live in Listowel.
"Miss Bea Tatham was a most excellent teacher of English and French. Her methods were not my methods, but the students could no more fool her than they could me. And Miss Roxie Ellis was an exceptionally fine art teacher; her students loved her -- she was a very lovable person."
She also has great respect for William H. Jack of LIstowel, former student and later principal of Listowel high school.
"I would like to pay special tribute to Willam Jack, a former student of mine and principal here for 24 years. Above all else he was always a perfect gentleman, an example to the student body, loyal to his teachers and approachable to the parents."
Besides the illustrious students already mentioned, Miss Hay is proud of the achievements of Miss Margaret Hyndman, Q.C., of Toronto, president of the World Organization of Business and Professional Women.
"She came over from Palmerston to Listowel for her secondary school work and was a fine student. She has been decorated for achievements by the governor-general."
"I would also like to mention numerous citizens in this town whom I taught.
"It gives me great pleasure to see my cousin, David Hay, as mayor of Listowel during this centennial year.
Then there are Mac Pratt, now a lawyer in town; Dr. John Connors, Dr. Bruce Spence, a local dentist; and Cyril Bamford, former editor of the Banner and now district editor of the Kitchener-Waterloo Record. I might add that all four were tough to handle at school.
"All three Zurbrigg boys were under my tuition and it pleases me that Carl will be the guest preacher this Sunday at centennial church services.
"I also taught one of our most successful merchants, Elwood Smith; one of our druggists, David Turbitt, and Sgt. Harvey Thompson of the Listowel Police Department. There are numerous others worthy of mention, but space won't permit it."
"If I had any redeeming qualities as a teacher, I have no hesitation in saying that I never reported students to their parents for anything; and seldom did I send them to the principal. I handled difficult situations myself."
Even upon her retirement, Miss Hay wasn't quite ready to depart the scene.
"You see, I had never applied for a teaching position, and when I saw an advertisement in the Toronto papers for a Latin tacher for York Mills Collegiate, I wondered what the experience would be like. So without anybody's knowledge, I applied and got the job. I lasted one week. I felt that with that lax discipline down there either all the students would be out or I would; so I asked to be released."
Of her short urban experience, Miss Hay says the city students didn't know what hit them -- "and neither did I."
"They just weren't used to my kind of discipline. I remember I was teaching and all of a sudden this young man got up and headed for the door. I stopped and I just looked at him. 'Where do you think you're going?' I asked. 'Why, I'm going out of the room,' he replied. 'Well,' I said, 'you can just come back in again. Nobody leaves my classrom without my permission.' He was dumbfounded; he was used to doing it,you see. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong.
"My nieces and nephews in schools today tell me I'd never last."
Not usually at a loss for words, Hazel Hay does find it difficult to verbally explain her deep feeling for her hometown.
"About all I can say is that my feelings go very deep. There is this deep urge within me to come back to my native town. The roots are very deep."
Upon two occasions she has been desperately "homesick" for her town and indeed for her own home.
"When I left home to go to college, I was terribly homesick. I couldn't eat, I just couldn't do anything. They called a doctor for me and he looked at me and said, 'There's nothing wrong with this girl; she's just homesick.'
"I phoned my father and told him that I couldn't stand it, that I was coming home. 'If you do,' he said, 'I'll take you back tomorrow. You started the job and you're going to finish it.' And that was that."
Miss Hay's second bout of homesickness was also caused by her own doing.
"It was during the Second World War and I just couldn't get anyone to help me mow this big lawn. I was doing it all on my own as well as teaching.
"It was a hot day and I was out mowing the lawn. This beautiful big car drove up and stopped. A woman got out and asked me if I'd like to sell my house. I immediately answered yes. She asked how much and I replied $3,000 -- I didn't even think about it.
"And I went through with the deal. She moved in with her brother and sister-in-law, and I moved into the entire top floor of the bank which the bank manager offered me. It was a lovely big place but I just hated it. I hated the smell of it -- everything about it. And as the days went by, I hated it more and more.
"All I could think of was that I had lost my home. I became sick. It affected my teaching. I'd be in the classroom and I'd suddenly think of my home;' I'd look out the window and I'd just stop. It became so bad that two of my students went to the principal and asked him what was wrong with Miss Hay. They realized that I wasn't up to my usual form.
"It was killing me. Of course my family was just sick about what I had done, but not one of them said a word to me -- they know what I'm like.
"It was about a year later at around 10 o'clock at night when a knock came to my door. It was the woman who had bought my home. She asked me if I wanted to buy it back. I said I certainly did. She said I could have it for the same amount that I had charged her, that the arrangement hadn't worked out as far as she was concerned.
"I looked out the window and I saw the light was still burning in the lawyer's office across the street. I asked her if she really meant what she said and when she assured me she did, I suggested that we go over and close the deal right then. And that's what we did.
"The next time I leave this house, they'll carry me out."
When it comes to what makes LIstowel the special place it is, Hazel Hay believes it is the beautifully maintained old homes.
"There are so many of them here. The town is just full of them. I don't know of any other community this size where you would see so many. The people really care and it shows in the way they keep their homes."
In summing up her feelings towards a life that has been generiously full and rewarding, Hazel Hay recalls "A jingle I wrote from myself to myself on the occasion of my 80th birthday on Aug. 11, 1971. It goes like this:
"It is my eightieth birthday. I am neither gloomy nor sad. Just grateful for all the good years I have had. My blessings too many to count one by one. It is true I've regrets for the things left undone. As I turn back life's pages through all the years I have gathered fond memories in spite of some tears. I repeat I am neither sad nor depressed. I will aim for the hundredth and hope for the best."
"Horace the Latin poet best expresses my feelings today as we celebrate the centennial of my native town of which I am truly proud to be a citizen.
"Prudens deus futura nocte celavit -- a wise god has covered with the night whatever the future holds."