FROM THE EDITOR

Ithink anyone who’s expelled from school is automatically imbued with a sense of mystery and awe – quite often they’ve had the guts to call out that teacher for being a bully (because he/she is), or stand up for their friend in a scrap (and then take the blame) or just say no to something that might seem utterly benign to others, but is important to them, a matter of principle. No to having their hair cut in line with silly school rules, for example, or just for not having their socks pulled right up to the knee, or for (shock) simply holding their boy/girlfriend’s hand, as I did (yes, the school was strict). [Note to any kids of school age reading this: Breaking the rules is BAD. Always do what your parents tell you, OK?]

I remember one guy being expelled from our year for not returning to the school grounds within the required time frame (we had three short hours to explore the nearby town, once a fortnight) – something we had all dreamed of doing many times of course. Freedom! Run! Never come back! Unfortunately, he decided to use that precious, golden time to get stupidly drunk and got caught. Bummer. But regardless, he was a hero (albeit a drunk one) until the next rebel rolled in and shaved her head or got his nose pierced or something crazy like that.

I don’t know where those child rebels are now, but I’d like to think they put their rebellious natures to good use – like Dame Rangimarie Glavish has. Told to “give up Māori things” by the headmaster who expelled her from Kaipara College, she went on to do exactly the opposite, and made a career out of it: p8.