Silent school number 4098
Noojee Primary School is facing an uncertain future and effectively closed this year. Gazette editor CAROLYN TURNER reminisces on her primary education at the small rural school.
I began school at the tender age of four, a year younger than most of my cohort.
I can recall walking to school on that January day in 1961 with my mother, a sister who had already been at school for two years and a younger sister still in a pram.
It was pretty much a mile to and from school (2.2km in today’s modern measurement). I walked to and from primary school from that day onwards for the next seven years. We had only one car and Dad required that for work.
I can recall that first day, but childhood memories can become distorted by time, clouded by other people’s memories and embellished with the telling and retelling over time.
Noojee had three classrooms. On that first day I was in the prep room with grade one and one teacher. There were two other classrooms: one for grades two and three and the “big room” for grades four, five and six. In those days it was a three-teacher school with the headmaster (he was always a man) teaching the final primary grades.
I couldn’t wait to go to school and fortunately for me that thirst for knowledge and friendships stayed with me until I finished what we called form six.
Noojee was, and still is, an isolated community. I can’t recall how many students there were, but it would have been under 100, probably around 25 to 30 in each room. I doubt class sizes were considered relevant.
Like all students beginning school our learning was simple we read John and Betty, some spelling and basic maths.
At that time Noojee was a timber town and three mills were in operation. For many of the students their fathers either worked in the mills or in the bush cutting timber. The population was itinerant, and some students were at school one day and then moved to another school the next.
It was in that small prep and grade one classroom that I encountered racism initiated by our teacher. We had to undergo regular tests for head lice with a white towel draped over our shoulders and our hair tousled to reveal any critters.
I couldn’t understand why the Aboriginal children were always made to stand at the end of the line. When I asked about this at home my mother had to explain to me that the teacher didn’t want the towel used between indigenous and non-indigenous kids, something my mother said she didn’t agree with, but felt there was little could be done about it. There was no involvement of parents in the teaching/classroom processes.
I can recall when we had a television installed. It was placed in the corridor and we sat on the step to watch various programs. My favourite was the story of Simpson and his donkey which we always saw around the time of Anzac Day.
We never went on excursions, but we did have nature walks. I doubt they would pass today’s stringent health and safety requirements. We all went down to the Latrobe River behind the school looking for wildlife and fauna along the way. There was always a log across the river so we were able to cross to the other side, usually without anyone falling in!
We all carried sticks and used them to flick the fronds off small ferns or stick into the nests of bull ants and jumping jacks and watch them scurry while avoiding their bites. The eco tourists who visit Noojee today would be mortified.
We had these walks in all weather and probably when the teacher decided we needed to let off steam.
There were advantages attending a small school. The girls were “allowed” to play footy because there were not enough boys. We were all sent out to play at morning and afternoon playtime and lunchtime. There was no teacher supervision unless there was a schoolyard brawl.
In summer we played on the monkey bars, slide and swings and in winter we played in the shelter sheds. It was pretty simple; being a small community we went to school together and on weekends all played our various sports together.
For me it was basketball (now called netball) in winter and tennis in summer. It was a good way to learn to get on with people. We had bullies, often those who struggled with basic learning took it out with name calling and a good deal of pushing and shoving. The playground was our own version of Lord of the Flies.
It was in the grade two/three room that I encountered a teacher keen on corporal punishment. She favoured a metal ruler on bare legs.
My most vivid memories are understandably from the grade four, five/six room. We had spelling tests where we would all stand and remain standing when you got the words correct. I loved it. We also had to stand and read aloud. I had a desk at the front and closest to the window. We had an open fire and fortunately only the boys were allowed to bring in the wood.
It was in that room that there was an occasion where the headmaster would of wanted the ground to swallow him up. He was being examined by the school inspector when two boys started a fist fight while arguing over who would answer a question. They rolled on the floor brawling while the headmaster and inspector tried to pull them apart.
I imagine there was more outside involvement in running the school than I was aware but my only memories of government “meddling” still live with me today. The first is school milk. Somebody obviously thought it was important to deliver a crate of milk to school each day but didn’t consider what it would taste like after it sat in the summer sun until morning play. Just the thought of it curdles my stomach.
The second brainwave was the school dentist. That van seemed to stay at the school for an eternity and you would wait in class for your name to be called, get some treatment and return to class, all without complaining. After all who would listen?
The journey was very much the part of the event. And that was the case with our walks to and from school. After my first day I walked with my sister ‘picking up’ other kids along the way. We generally walked in packs.
In summer we walked home at the hottest part of the day when the temperature was well over 100 Fahrenheit. In winter we broke ice in puddles, huddled under coats to escape wind and rain and maybe even snow (although I can’t recall that).
Traffic was scarce except for timber trucks; empty in the mornings and loaded in the afternoons.
It was on one walk home that is the only time I have seen a tiger snake sitting up ready to strike. We had created a short cut from the old railway line to the top road, a narrow bridle path that probably cut 300 metres off our walk. For all of us snakes were a part of summer, but on this occasion we all took off and I’d say by the noise we created the snake did the same.
In my final two years of school I was able to ride a bike. That experience was not always pleasant. A boy in my class was not happy that he didn’t have a bike and he would cut dead blackberry canes which still had sharp thorns and run alongside holding them just in front of my face. When I complained about this at home the message was simple – ride faster.
Despite being surrounded by forest and the history of previous bushfires we never had code red days. We went to school regardless of the conditions and watched the gums literally shimmer in the summer heat.
All these years later I can recall my final days of primary school. I wasn’t looking forward to high school and why would I there was security in knowing every kid in the school and having monkey bars and a slide to play on.
Although I was looking forward to the library which offered shelves stacked with books just waiting to be borrowed and read and the opportunity to learn from a variety of subjects.
Even though schools have changed dramatically I am sure students of today will also have fond memories to take with them into the future.
I visited Noojee Primary School in March last year to take photographs of the children presenting paintings and cup cakes to members of the Noojee CFA for their hard work protecting the community through the summer period.
It was sad to see just five students all together in one classroom. Fortunately, they made up for their small representation with a very spirited welcoming of the CFA and great pride in their art work and baking. Some things never change.