Thursday, February 28, 2013

going to school in the early 60s

Eight houses down on the left hand side. Count them on the way home just in case I miss it. No playgroup or prep. No hint what school was to be like.

The first day at school ..... silent. No sounds come to me.
First year at school....... silent. No sounds come to me.
Is the teacher telling the class about the flag. The Australian flag. Flag unfurled and flaccid. Stars? A cross? Sitting on the floor cross legged. Silent. A game in a corner alone.

Transition. Ring a ring a rosie....sitting in a circle on the grass. Children laughing and skipping. A game where someone had a locket or a pocket in a farm with a wife... you had to choose a wife then a child and skip and hold hands. Silent.

First class. Mrs Schumack. Mrs Schumack who chews her tongue and is stern. Fierce. Much more fierce than the dog who came to school. She, with a broom chased that mongrel, its fierceness no match for hers. Black clothes. Big bosom. Black hair in bun...chewing tongue. Kerrie - ov is wrong. It is of. Huh? Line the little people in a line that stretches around the room. Penny first. Kerrie last. Huh? Oh graded. Our place.

Second class. Miss Mills. Round and jolly. The knothole in the floor beneath my chair showed the outside world beneath the classroom. I could go outside and under the school to get anything that fell there. First a sharpener, then a pencil, then my whole pencil case one day.
The toilets were a long way away and lonely by the creek. A scary place. Quiet.
The cloakroom cluttered with ports and yellow raincoats. Paul Wesley tried to kiss me. Got me on the cheek. Left cheek just there.
Polio vaccines. Pink stuff in a white plastic spoon. Hearing tests, repeat hearing test...can hear faintly..maybe...if I listen really hard... imagine really hard..
The reader with a duck and a neat blonde girl and a prissy boy with shorts up to his middle. My ducks at home drowned themselves in a bucket trying to eat the bread that was soaking. All of them. All drowned in a bucket behind the toilet down the back. Duck. Picture... word... duck. Huh? Oh! Duck. Got it.





























2 comments:

  1. I corresponded with Mrs Schumack until the Christmas cards and long letters ceased coming about 12 years ago.

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