The BHS Bugle



“Hopefully I’ll be fresh out of university, and I’ll be able to start my own horse facility from my home. I also want to be financially stable, but that’s kind of expected!”

- Rebeka Sealy, grade eleven student at Bathurst High

“In five years I want to be finished my degree at St. Mary’s University in Nova Scotia. I want to make a lot of money with my degree too.”

-Tyler Duguay, grade twelve student at Bathurst High

“I’ll want to be finishing up at St. Mary’s and be living in Halifax after getting used to school. I’ll probably be doing stuff for the boat club at the university too, because it sounds like a lot of fun and I think I’m going to have a really good time doing that. I really want to have my own pet too, like a gerbil or something.”

-McKenzie Bolichowski, grade twelve student at Bathurst High

Students who were faced with the recurring question of their future plans were quick to add healthy finances and a post-secondary education onto the list. But does having a higher education and being rich truly matter more than the morals that seem to be lacking in modern society? Is being financially stable more important than enjoying oneself to the extent of being comfortable in their situation, no matter what they are going through? Does happiness not have more importance than the constant stress and dreariness a forced life carries?

Obviously, there are exceptions to this claim; many people aspire to bring light into other people’s lives through education, health, safety, or stability, for example, which require a post-secondary education that will be obtained under no force. However, there are many other students that are forced to meet the requirements of societal standards, whether or not they wish to follow those footsteps.

The main question to this, though, is why does it happen? Why do youth feel the need to pursue noble careers and lives they do not wish to have? Sadly, there seems to be no proper answer; pressures from society, parental figures, and even peers can turn it into a competition on who can be the “most successful” under the traditional views that the world currently has. Students are also treated like children for decades and then are quickly expected to decide the path of their whole life by 18, which is extremely stressful, and can make choosing a standard plan seem much more plausible rather than doing things they are passionate about.

Whatever the case may be involving the pressured youth of today, there are still ways for them to claim a life full of joys specific to their interests, true aspirations, and skills rather than what they can make a good profit from in the future. The leaders of tomorrow are the ones suffering from this cycle, however tomorrow will be bright if they are able to break through into a fun and rewarding life for themselves.

Posted: October 10, 2018

It was just a simple question.

Maybe it wasn’t that simple.

But it was just a question.

Five months ago I visited Israel and the palestinian territories. I spent  11 very impressive, intensive and emotional days there. It was a special time, not only for me, also for the people who lived there. Israel celebrated its 70th anniversary. But there are two sides of this story.

While I was sitting in an israeli school and watching all this happiness and proudness they feel about their state, there were palestinian people dying because some protests escalated. Just some kilometres away people lost family members while I was having fun. Everything happened at the same time, under the same sky.

I visited both parts, so I tried to start a conversation with my israeli exchange partners  by asking this question:

“Do you understand that the day you celebrate as your country's birthday is the day the palestinian people call catastrophe?”

Eyes looked at me. Looked at me as if I said something in a different language, something that doesn’t make sense at all. They looked at me as if I suddenly became a different person. I felt like I didn’t belong to this place anymore. I just felt wrong. In this moment we drifted away from each other. It felt like there were hundreds of miles between us. My words couldn’t reach them anymore. We were no longer teenagers who had a great time together. We became foreigners.

I tried to explain that 70 years ago when Israel was founded the people who lived there before (palestinian people) lost their homes. I saw their keys. They kept the keys to express that some of them are still waiting to return to their homes.

My exchange partners just looked at me while I was talking. I wanted them to understand me and my question. And this 15 year old german girl I am, didn’t realised that there was someone behind her. Someone who heard my question and my words.

The day after that I went to school in the morning with my exchange partner. As I arrived our teacher told us that she wants to talk to us. It sounds cliche, but I seriously already had the feeling that I got into trouble. And I was right…

The israeli school didn’t want us to ask questions like this.That’s what they said.
We were there as germans. And almost every family living in this country can tell you the stories their parents and grandparents told them. Their parents and grandparents were people who physically survived the Holocaust and lost people they loved because of it.
And I listened to these stories, because I know that it is my responsibility. It is not my fault what happened, but I have a responsibility.

But it is still my right to ask a question. It’s a human right. There is nothing wrong about asking a critical question in a respectful way and that’s what I did.

I didn’t ask this question although I am german, I asked this question BECAUSE I am german. Because I want to be a critical person, a person who thinks, makes up their own mind. Why? Because my country has a story. And I learned from that story. That’s why it’s not only my right, but my responsibility to ask critical questions.

But it doesn’t matter where you are from. You just have to think about where you want to be and how you want this world to be. And I want this world to be a peaceful place, as all of us hopefully. That’s why we have to fight for the freedom of speech by asking critical questions and writing about things people don’t talk about. ALL OF US.


Posted: October 10, 2018

Juvia didn’t even notice when the taxi stopped in front of the house until she heard the taxi driver’s voice speaking to her.

“Are you sure you gave me the right address ma’m? This doesn’t look like a young lady’s house.”

“Probation says it’s mine…unfortunately.” Juvia sighed as she dug out her wallet, “How much do I owe you for the ride?”  

“Keep your money! You’re going to need it if this really is your disaster!” The taxi driver replied, shaking his head in the house’s direction.

“Thanks! Have a great day!” Juvia stuffed her wallet back into her backpack and hurriedly scrambled to open the door. Money was tight. Anything free was good right now.

She hopped out of the car hurriedly and onto the cracked sidewalk, dragging her black based, purple lined duffle bag and matching backpack behind her. Everything she owned was inside these two bags, along with the house and anything that may lurk inside.  

When first bought, the old building was a beautiful two-story home with whitewashed sideboards and huge dormer windows that let in beautiful streams of daylight, looking out onto the beauty of the outdoor garden. But once Juvia’s grandfather had gotten his hands on it, the beauty disappeared. In present day, the windows were all tinted black, the sideboards were rotting and old, the outdoor porch looked just about ready to collapse from the rotted pillars of wood keeping up the deteriorated black shingles. The garden was left for dead. Weeds and dead bushes crept through the once blooming flowers, along with a decaying fence bordering the cracked sidewalk. Everything on the exterior of this house looked like a rat’s nest. And it was all hers.  

Going off the pictures given to her upon the news of her inheritance, the inside looked no better. In the pictures, dust covered every surface, smoke and dirt seemed to linger in clouds, covering most of the picture’s lenses. The stairs inside were decaying and broken according to the temporary landlord and the lawyer in charge of the probation proceedings. “Very Unsafe.” They had quoted in their report. The kitchen cabinets were hanging on hinges in the pictures and the antique furnishings were shredded and scratched to bits. The whole house from the pictures looked like it had never been cleaned and nor been upheld to even the lowest of cleanliness standards. That was just how Juvia’s grandfather had wanted it to look. He only ever gave a single reason to the people who would dare ask why he was destroying such a beautiful house. “It’s not my house, it’s the creatures’ house! I have to please them!”

For this he earned himself quite a name in the small town of Glenealy, Ireland. Crazy. Old. Man.  

When Juvia was a small child, her grandfather would often send her letters about the beings that lived along with him in the house. He would write to her about the mischievous doings of his eighty-year-old golden retriever which he claimed to be a ghost dog. Her grandfather would send her little bracelets and charms that were supposedly from the creatures. Her mother would always scowl when she showed her the pretty new trinkets.

“Dollar Store Junk.” She would comment.

At seven or eight years old, it amused Juvia to feel like she had supernatural friends in far off places. But her parents, on the other hand, found it disturbing that she was being told these wild tales by her grandfather. Especially at an age where she would grow to believe them. So, slowly but surely, the letters stopped coming. Juvia wasn’t allowed to go get the mail anymore like she used to, and when it was brought home it was kept up on a shelf, far out of her tiny hand’s reach. Later, when she had gotten older, she realised that the letters were being shredded in her father’s office shredder, and were absolutely illegible afterwards. Her parents wrote her grandfather a letter when she turned fifteen, saying that she would no longer be receiving the letters, and finally admitting to the old hopeful man that she hadn’t been receiving them for years. Despite their intense and continuous efforts, the letters never stopped coming.  


To be continued...


Posted: October 10, 2018



(Kratos and Arteus shown above)

Santa Monica Studios God of War (2018) is a narrative-driven action-adventure game that is a breath of fresh air for the series. You play as an older, more stubborn, Kratos, preparing his preppy energetic son Atreus, for a long journey to carry his wife’s ashes to the highest peak of Midgard. This is a new beginning for Kratos, hiding his murderous past and godly abilities from his son, while bonding along the way. Atreus favoured his mother and was neglected by his father, Kratos. The clashing personalities of Kratos and his son make for memorable dialogue, and a comedic experience with Kratos’ blunt responses and lack of interest in most things.

 As well as a great story, God of offers a stunning visual experience, which immerses you in the landscapes around you. The game features not only a compelling and immersive main story, but a plethora of magnificent side quests for the perfectionist gamers.

 Nearing the end of the journey you'll see the once cold, distant pair finally start to bond and forge a real connection, both in combat and in personality. God of War truly has an abundance of things to see once the story is completed and it is up to you to find them.


Noah’s rating: 8.5/10