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NO LOOKING BACK – SCHOOL’S OUT AND LIFE BEGINS (Pt VI)

CHAPTER 3 – 1968 – 2nd Year

Another fantastic holiday over and it was time to return to the school for 2nd Year – Year 9 as it now known, I think. This year, we were allocated beds in the dormitories in the second wing of the new boarding house. To give the staff some credit, I think by this time they had realized that I was not popular with the girls in my year group so they did try to put me with those girls who weren’t quite so ‘nasty’ toward me.

I think this was the year when I tried for a few extra-curricular subjects and sports teams including hockey, as mentioned earlier. Also perhaps for the running race on sports day. Both glowing failures. I was always looking for something else to do at that school, but knew how much of a failure I had already proved myself to be with running, hockey and piano – I felt I was running out. I know I continued with my writing and drawing as much as I could.

Second Year was also the year we went to dancing classes. There were boys at the classes as well but I have no idea where they came from. All I know is that I did not enjoy them and was not sorry when we stopped. The people were trying to teach us ballroom dancing and it just did not work – not for me.

Our school grounds were not large enough to allow for our own swimming pool bat as there was a new olympic sized pool a short drive away, we used to be taken there to swim. At one stage, the school purchased a huge house with a pool on the opposite side of one of the roads that bordered the school. Obviously we used that but we sold the house almost as quickly as it had been purchased. So that was the end of that pool.

There was one little thing that was beginning to bother me. It didn’t matter what I did I could not get an award at the last assembly in the school year for any of the six years I was there. Academically, I didn’t have a chance in heck, but there were other sorts of awards. Citizenship and others. I was never awarded one but thought I might have a chance of receiving a citizenship award. I just had to think what you had to do to earn it. Each and every year I was at that school I did this. There wasn’t a list of criteria that you had to meet or excel in to get one of those jolly awards. So I started doing little things, things that I thought might help the staff and/or the girls. Not all the girls, only those who I thought mattered and who might have a ‘say’ in the award recipients. These were the senior girls, the prefects of those days. I think they are called ‘head girls’ (or boys) these days. And I think I might actually have been on the right track except for one thing – you do need to either do the correct thing for the right person or make sure that one of those people is watching you. While I thought I was doing the right thing, all that happened was that it made me look more of a ‘goody-goody’ than ever.

And yes, that was one of the reasons that I was bullied. Because, apparently, I was a ‘goody-goody’. I never did any of the naughty things that most of the other boarders did. And there were two reasons for this – one was that I simply wasn’t interested. And the second, I was absolutely terrified of reprisals from the staff and then word getting back to my parents. I was also extremely quiet and that didn’t go down well either.

I even got into trouble with the boards for one particular thing that I did achieve and was so proud of, to say nothing of stunned. I have mentioned that the one subject I did excel at throughout those years was English. I was good at it – very good. It is funny which memories stick in your mind. Most of mine from those days are anything but good – but this one was good and I can recall it vividly.

We had had a spelling test. An ordinary little spelling test. And I knew that I was good at spelling – well, I was in those days. We did the test – 50 words – and I promptly forgot all about it. A few days later and it was English again. The teacher walked in, we all stood and greeted her accordingly. But we also noticed that there was something ‘funny’ about her – she had an odd smile on her face apart from anything else. Then she stood in front of the class and announced that she had the results of our recent spelling test. Suddenly there was a lot of groaning in the room. The teacher then told us that one person had achieved 100%. More groaning but the girls started looking at each other, trying to work out who it would be. I just sat there, waiting to hear. I know I was OK at English but not even I could achieve 100%.

The teacher picked up the top sheet from the pile of tests and gave it to me. I didn’t take it – I just looked at it. My initial reaction was how horrible she was, showing me how good a 100% pass mark looked. But then she told me that I was the top achiever. I got the 100%. Gobsmacked? Stunned? Shocked? I have no idea how I felt. I just looked at it and then at her and back again. She had the biggest smile and shook the paper at me, telling me to take it and congratulating me! I thanked her (at least I think I did) and took it and then became aware of the noises in the room. A couple of ‘How in the heck did she do that?’ and other negative comments. While I was exceedingly happy and excited – the third thought that hit me, a bit like a brick, was the flack I was about to get from the other girls.

I guess this was another negative of being a boarder – an unpopular boarder. I didn’t really have anyone I could brag to. I was very happy about it, enough to put up with some of the nasty and very negative comments that were thrown at me by some of those boarders for the rest of the day. One of my day bug friends told me to ignore them, that they were just jealous. Be that as it may, it’s a heck of a lot easier said than done. That girl was probably right in that they were jealous, but it did put a dampener on my feelings.

There was one other things that I did seem to be good at, that surfaced during this year. When we were asked to trace things for homework, I never did. I don’t think I have ever traced anything in my life. When we have been asked to trace – I have always done freehand. I’m not sure that this would have been noticed had I not apologized to the teacher that I didn’t have any tracing paper and had to do it freehand. I think it only happened a couple of times during my years at that school but I know ‘word got around’ throughout the staff and it was actually considered very clever on my part. Of course, the other boarders also heard about it – another black mark against me! Ho hum…

CHAPTER 1 – 1966 – GRADE 7

There really is no looking back.

Not really.

But I do.

Whether I like it or not, those memories keep coming back to annoy me. They represent six years of pure hell and depressions and, yes, they do torment me – consistently. I wish they wouldn’t but they do and there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it. And if I had my time again, there would be absolutely nothing I could about my life back then.

The happiest memory I do have of my secondary years at boarding school is the very last day ever. Oh and the last day of each term and each year were pretty good too.

I left the school in 1972, after repeating what was then known as ‘Leaving’ (these days, it is Year 11) but still managed to fail everything despite have two goes at it. In fact, in all those years I didn’t manage to pass anything much except English. I was always good at English. Looking back, there was not a lot I excelled in at all, including the piano which I did try to learn at one stage, but was never able to sight-read, so that stopped pretty quickly. Then I was given a guitar in my mid-teens. I loved playing it and singing along. I did not have any guitar lessons and was never in the school choir or anything like that. Reckon I’d have been kicked out had I tried. I just enjoyed playing with and singing along to my guitar.

However, I did try for a couple of sports teams, the main one being hockey. Again – not good. I attended one practise and managed to get hit around a lot by the other players and decided pretty quickly that that wasn’t for me either. So I pulled out before landing in hospital. I did enjoy tennis and used to use the old hits board just above the then new boarding house. I did that a lot, but never had a game with anyone. The other sport I did try for was running – silly, silly me. This was when they were ‘trying out’ for the sports day teams – and for one insane minute, I signed up for one of the races. I was put out the first time we practised. I think I was still at the starting point – or not far in – when the first – well, all the other runners, finished.

But I am getting well ahead of myself. Let me turn the clock back to my very first day ever at that school. I was extremely excited – but I also had a strange feeling of foreboding. And that feeling was to stay with me on and off for the next six years. I was about to join my older brothers and cousins in attending boarding school. We went to different schools – all the boys went to one and our female cousins went to another one. I went to a different one again.

And I was alone.

It was February 1966 when I started at that school. As mentioned, I was very excited – and for the life of me, I don’t know why. I think it was because I was going down to ‘big school’, but why that fact excited me as it did, is beyond me. I was leaving home, after all. But at the time it probably did seem exciting. That excitement lasted for about two weeks, then homesickness, reality and a few other negative things crept in and began to overpower everything. And that sense of foreboding was slowly but surely increasing. It might also have had something to do with the fact that I was one of the first junior boarders at that school, so while I was in a class with other girls of my age, there were no other boarders of that age, they were all older. Only by a year but that was bad enough to egg those feelings of loneliness and isolation on. Most of those girls were very nice but the age difference, even by one tiny year, did seem to make a difference.

At this stage, I think I do need to step backwards in time to explain something. There was a reason – a very sad one – why I started as a junior boarder and was not able to wait for that one last year before heading to boarding school at the ‘accepted’ age.

The reason I was being sent to boarding school in the first place is because I grew up, along with my three older brothers and our cousins, on our family sheep station in the north eastern pastoral district of that state. This is covered earlier in this book. What wasn’t mentioned is that I did have governesses for part of my primary education but they had all gone by the time I reached Grade 6 – my last year out there. However, by the time my youngest brother was sent off to boarding school, a couple of years before I should have been, we must have been having problems hiring and keeping governesses as my mother finished up teaching me for that last year. I cannot remember a lot about that year except that as it progressed, my mother must have found teaching me, on top of the rest of her daily chores, just a bit too much. The obvious answers was to send me down to boarding school – just a year earlier than normal.

Through my research for ‘Red Dust Dreams’, I did learn that, while there are still some governesses out there, a lot of station students are now being taught by their mothers, or some other relative. It can be a very lonely and isolated existence, particularly to these young girls – many of them are (or used to be) attracted to the romance and ‘difference’ of outback life. But sadly for many of them, once they actually start their lives out there they realize how isolated and lonely it can be with the bright lights of the cities or large towns, a long, long way away. They find the stations are so isolated that unless they have their own transport or can get a lift they are too far away to visit the cities or nearest towns on the weekends. Instead, they usually find they are ‘stuck’ on the stations and after a while, reality really does get to many of them and they resign to head back to the city. While conducting the above research, I also discovered that there are now quite a few organizations that will support these young people and the world of the internet, FaceBook particularly, is a God send for them. Although even the internet can be a problem as it does not necessarily work throughout some of the more remote areas of Australia. These girls (and boys nowadays) also find, to their frustration, that their mobiles are completely out of range as well. The above mentioned organizations are generally online and I believe they do help to keep these young people in contact with others. While it isn’t physical, it is at least something for them.

Anyway, it was decided that Mum would finish teaching me at the end of Grade 6 and that I would go down to town too. Initially, rather than trying to get me into a boarding school that didn’t actually take junior boarders, it was arranged that I would stay with my aunt and uncle instead and attend the school as a day bug. And this was settled until tragedy struck. Sadly, my late cousin suddenly became seriously ill with a terminal disease during that year. Alternative arrangements had to be made – and quickly. My parents must have contacted the school and explained the situation – suddenly I was being accepted as a junior boarder. I must have been taken to the city to buy uniforms, hat, gloves, books and all other necessities. In those days we had to go to one of the department stores in the city to buy all this. These days, I think it can all be purchased at the schools.

For the six years of my boarding at that school, I think slept in all of the boarding houses – except one. And that one was attached to one of the then-new boarding houses, so I feel that I did sleep in all of them. I also think we were the last boarders to sleep in the very first boarding house – which is now being used as classrooms and probably has since we slept there. There were mainly first years (now Year 8) and a few older girls when we were there. Our access was via a very old and rickety set of wooden stairs which were attached to the outside of the kitchen and these led up to an old screen door which in turn led into the first dormitory. There were only screen doors and windows, none of which was insect proof. It was a very old building, housing the administrative offices on the ground floor as well as that of the Principal.

We did our homework in one of the classrooms before having evening supper in our own little kitchen. That was also where I remember seeing the youngest surviving member of the family that began the school. She was often in there, too. Not sure what she was doing, but as she was elderly then I am thinking she might have been having warm milk before bed or something like that. I think she must have passed on not long after that as I cannot remember her at all after that year.

Having always had that passion for writing, I lived for mail from home and indeed from anyone. We had a green mail board, with white ribbons which were pinned in a criss-cross fashion across the board. That was one of my favourite places in that school. Actually, it was my only favourite place.

Our teacher from Grade 6 was a very great friend of the mistress of our boarding house, so warned me: ‘You had better watch out’. Nothing like scaring the living daylights out of an already very unhappy girl. And this warning was only compounded a bit later, when, for some reason, I found myself standing at the head of the main inside staircase. We weren’t allowed to use those stairs beyond going into the dormitory which was directly over the principal’s office. So, by rights, I should not have been there. But there I was, looking down at the then principal, standing at the bottom of the stairs and issuing yet another warning to me – in that I needed to improve my marks. Well, OK, I knew that but sort of didn’t feel it was going to happen in a hurry and I didn’t like having that said to me. Let me tell you that I was one very scared, very unhappy and very small little girl.

A very lost little girl.

I did make a couple of friends among the day bugs in my class, which was lovely, but overall, I was not popular. And sadly, this lack of popularity only worsened as my days at that school progressed. I also befriended, to an extent – another country girl who was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Attending the school but not as a boarder, she was living with relations or friends or someone.

CHAPTER TWO – NEXT BLOG.

Yes, it is very dry out there.

MY CHILDHOOD IN THE OUTBACK (Cont’d)

It was during my childhood that I also discovered my passion for writing and drawing. Mum used to order huge rolls of butcher’s paper and I used to draw on it. Obviously Mum bought it for a reason but it certainly served as excellent drawing paper for me. To satisfy the writing passion at the time, I started to find penfriends and write to them. Our weekly mail day was on Saturday and one of the highlights of my week was to watch for the first tiny speck of dust in the far distance, indicating that they mail truck was on its way. By ‘mail truck’- it was our station utility and either my father or uncle would be driving it. They also collected the weekly groceries, newspapers for the week and anything else that had been ordered and sent up.

But it was the mail that I wanted. I used to grab the bag and open it in the station office. I absolutely loved seeing the thick envelopes addressed to the eldest daughters of our then-boundary rider. Those girls seemed to do a heck of a lot of letter writing – and all this did was to whet my appetite for the same. I really wanted to receive some thick envelopes. And that’s when my love for letter writing began – and which has continued with me to today and has also evolved into my book writing.

Socially, life has changed too, with improved communication, transport and roads. But when we were growing up, apart from the above, local towns had their annual horse racing carnivals which were a lot of fun. And another annual event which alternated between our station and two others was the New Year’s Eve party. One of the other two stations was about half way up to Broken Hill in NSW and the second, about an hour away on the other side of our nearest ‘town’ (it was mapped out as a town but never eventuated). I went along with Mum and Dad and any friends I had staying. One such party comes to mind – it was on the former station mentioned above – the one which is half way to Broken Hill. Normally, the same people attended these parties – all stations people and some traveled very long distances to attend. Well – out there, with the huge distances involved, if you weren’t prepared to travel, you didn’t have a social life. However, at this particular one, two ‘new’ people attended – and you could have knocked me over with a feather when the first person entered. It was one of my boarding house mistresses and her brothers who lived on a station further east. I know I felt slightly odd when I returned to school, knowing she was also there.

Times Have Changed

Naturally, there have been a heck of a lot of changes in the 40 odd years since I left school. Not only with legislation and many other aspects but also with the school itself. It never had a lot of land but what it did have was very pretty. The school used to have several tennis courts, but they appear to have been replaced by buildings.

At the time of my last visit, I had flown over to accompany my elderly mother to one of the annual luncheons that the Old Scholars’ Association held, this one specifically being for the over 70s. It was held in the new boarders’ dining room, all part of one of the boarding houses. I was quite stunned when I saw it all – the last time I had seen it it was just quite different. This dining room and new kitchen have been housed in extensions of the boarding house – I believe this also acts as the tuckshop now. That used to be housed at one end of the running track up near the top of the school. In those days, there was one little door in an older building and this was where the boarders used to be served afternoon tea. Not any more. Those days are long gone.

Back to that over 70s luncheon. After I’d eaten I left Mum reminiscing with some of her friends and I took the opportunity to have a good look through the boarding house as it is now (or was when I last visited – it could have changed again since then). Off I went after gaining permission from a couple of the staff members. The first door I went through opened into the old hallway of that boarding house. This I recognised. To the left was another hallway which used to lead to the old sick bay. This used to simply resemble another dormitory, with a couple of beds and a few other bits of furniture. But, like most other things, it has been upgraded considerably – and there was even a special nurses’ bay. However, for some reason, I don’t think it is used as a sick bay any more – there is another name for it but that completely escapes me, if I ever knew it in the first place. I am not sure where it is now but I am sure it is very modern and functional.

I continued down the hallway, passing two doors on the left, both of which were still dormitories. A bit further down at the ‘t’ junction – turn left and you are in the bathroom. Turn right and you are heading to the main lounge and the old dining room. You also used to be heading towards the set of long, steeps steps that took you down to the two downstairs dormitories – and down which I was pushed once and another time fell all of my own accord. These have since been boarded up, I am glad to say. They were a health hazard. And the door which used to be right in the middle of the ‘t’ junction and which used to lead to the head boarding housemistress’ bedroom, has been bricked over. Instead, you now go around the corner and there is an office, complete with a lady hard at work. Presumably the boarding house reception area as the main front door to the building is at the end of that hallway.

I introduced myself to this lovely lady and she welcomed me warmly. She then took me on a bit of a guided tour, which was very interesting and I appreciated greatly. She did show me the old dining room. I can’t remember what it is now. Then we moved away from that boarding house, across an enclosed walkway and to the boarding house that I lived in after moving from the very old one over the administration block all those years ago. The actual building of this new boarding house seemed to be exactly the same. No additions. However, the interior – wow. This lady took me straight upstairs to the first dormitory wing. Only it’s no longer dormitories – these girls have a real home away from home. They have separate little individual cubicles with a bed, wardrobe, dresser, chair, bedside table and desk. Each one has a curtain across the doorway for privacy. I would have loved that. I didn’t count the number of these but they were side by side all the way down the corridor, where there used to be three dormitories housing four beds each, as well as the one at the very end, with five beds. This wing probably still sleeps the first year (Year 8) boarders. There is a second identical wing in this building, which would have held the second years (Year 9). At the opening of both these wings, before heading down to the cubicles, was a TV room. There was at least one very comfortable looking lounge as well as a couple of chairs and a table. We didn’t have any of this. These girls are so lucky. But that’s easily said – I imagine the generation before ours would have said the same about us – and so on.

We did have the use of three TV sets at different stages throughout my boarding life. Although I don’t think we had a TV at all when I was in Grade 7, in that very first boarding house. At the end of the day, after lessons finished, many of the girls played sports, just as they do today. Or any of a number of other things – whereas I very possibly wrote letters. Evenings during the week would have been much the same as they are now – homework, supper and bed. I suspect that hasn’t changed a lot, if at all. And on the weekends? I honestly cannot remember that first year. But in the following years, I think many of the girls played sports, some inter-school matches, on Saturday mornings. Then in the afternoons, the school did organise for us all to have an outing. We would go by bus – to the beach, to a movie, to the zoo or any of a number of other places. I think some girls also used to go out with relations or friends in the afternoon. I rarely did – certainly not at the beginning. There were also annual events that we used to attend – the boys’ Head of the River being one. This was a rowing regatta/competition held on the River Torrens and we used to go down to watch and support whatever school we chose. That’s actually the only annual day time weekend event that I can recall but I am sure there were others. The girls’ rowing regattas started many years later.

Saturday evenings were mainly spent in front of the TV. While, as mentioned, we did not have a TV in my very first years there, in subsequent years there was a set in one of the downstairs rooms in the old original boarding house, where that ‘Over 70s’ lunch was held. The seating arrangement was a table – first come, first served. There were also a couple of chairs but I was never quick enough to claim one of them. Once the new boarding house had been built, there were the two downstairs rooms – common rooms – (under the dormitories) – one of these was barely used and the other one had the TV as well as a small kitchenette. This latter one was also used for the odd socials we used to have with some of the boys’ schools. Now the common room that we used as a TV room is full of computers so these days the girls can do their prep between their own little rooms and the computer room. No trekking up through the school to the library for them – which is what we had to do. In those years, we had to walk up en masse through the grounds, as we did get prowlers occasionally and we were not allowed to walk around by ourselves after dark, for good reason – our own safety.

We did go to church on Sunday mornings. The Anglican service was held in a local church and we had to walk in a ‘crocodile’ (two long lines, walking in couples) there and back. There was also a Congregational church somewhat closer and which seemed to hold a more popular service so a lot of the girls ‘changed over’ to that one during their years at the school, irrespective of their faith. This did not appear to bother the school staff – as long as we attended one service, that was the main thing. In the afternoon, again some girls were invited out with others outside the school.

To Be Continued Next Blog

One of the currently hard parts of life in the outback. Balladonia is between Norseman and Cocklebiddy heading toward Adelaide from Perth.