High School Days...or Daze?
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1958 - 1959 Woodville High School, Woodville SA...Growing Up and Out!?
Well-ll-ll...some of us 'wannabes' had High aspirations...over and above the realms of possibility! (Meanwhile, back at school...)
'In Your Dreams' Target: Smooth transition from Primary School (or the first seven years of education in Australia in 'my day.'...the '50's) - to High School (the next three to five years...preparatory to further education as apprentices, or at University, or entering the workforce).
'The Reality' was something else. At just 12 years old, one had to make the choice between a General course path - or a Commercial course path. There would be a few 'shared' subjects, but for the most part, they would be worlds apart, and the ensuing qualifications would be totally different.
If further education at University was the plan, then a General course must be pursued - with such 'other' subjects as Maths I and II, Science, Physics, Chemistry and Latin. If one was envisaging a career in an office, or the like...a Commercial course was the option - and its 'other' subjects included Arithmetic (a 'lower' level of Maths that only included Algebra...apart from regular number 'stuff'), and of course, Typing, Shorthand and Book-keeping...and French....huh? (Loved it, but could never see the connection to anything, except broadening one's perspective on Life...oh yes, it did that VERY well indeed, thanks to our exceptional teacher).
Of course, IF your ambition was to become a Tradesman...then you had to choose even a different school altogether - one called a Technical High School (and segregated into Boys and Girls)...wherein the basics of theory and practical usage of various trades were taught.
Can you imagine having to make such Life decisions at that age?
'In Your Dreams' Target: Smooth transition from Primary School (or the first seven years of education in Australia in 'my day.'...the '50's) - to High School (the next three to five years...preparatory to further education as apprentices, or at University, or entering the workforce).
'The Reality' was something else. At just 12 years old, one had to make the choice between a General course path - or a Commercial course path. There would be a few 'shared' subjects, but for the most part, they would be worlds apart, and the ensuing qualifications would be totally different.
If further education at University was the plan, then a General course must be pursued - with such 'other' subjects as Maths I and II, Science, Physics, Chemistry and Latin. If one was envisaging a career in an office, or the like...a Commercial course was the option - and its 'other' subjects included Arithmetic (a 'lower' level of Maths that only included Algebra...apart from regular number 'stuff'), and of course, Typing, Shorthand and Book-keeping...and French....huh? (Loved it, but could never see the connection to anything, except broadening one's perspective on Life...oh yes, it did that VERY well indeed, thanks to our exceptional teacher).
Of course, IF your ambition was to become a Tradesman...then you had to choose even a different school altogether - one called a Technical High School (and segregated into Boys and Girls)...wherein the basics of theory and practical usage of various trades were taught.
Can you imagine having to make such Life decisions at that age?
Contents at a Glance
I Had A Dream
...of a New school - and a New bike.
In dreams, I rode along quiet leafy suburban streets, my hair blowing in the breeze, my heart singing with the joy of being alive and having this wondrous new freedom - riding this best of all bikes to my new High School at Woodville, South Australia...just over 3 miles (5 kms) away...and to everywhere else my dreams could take me.
But the cold hard reality was that I knew that money wasn't plentiful that year, and much was already being spent on equipping me out with all my new uniforms and shoes, school bag and stationery, etc., etc. for entry into HIGH SCHOOL. I understood - and totally (if sadly) accepted this. I knew there would be Christmas presents for me - but not a bike. And I was right...gifts galore from my parents and siblings...focused on my future school 'wish list'.
In the midst of all this, I was asked to go to our spare room to get something - and went, my feet racing, in order to get back to the unwrapping business - and there, leaning against the linen cupboard was my dream come true - A BIKE! Oh-h-h-h!
It was the loveliest thing I had ever seen, with a great red bow tied on the handlebars - and it was blue, my favourite colour. And not just any old blue, you understand - it was iridescent with minute sparkles, and it was the uncanny deep kind of blue of a summer sky. The seat was an off-white leather, as was the trim on the thin 'racing' style tyres...and there was heaps of brilliantly shining chrome - the bell, the handlebars, the pedals, and the myriad of spokes of the wheels. And a basket up front on the handlebars, and a spring holder at the back to secure my school bag (or the odd passenger).
I cried...I couldn't breathe...and I laughed...and I cried some more. And behind me I heard some stifled laughter and then a chorus of voices - my parents and my siblings - all squashed in the doorway to witness my reaction. Well-ll-ll, a reaction was certainly what they shared!
No more dreams - just the beautiful, amazing reality of being a 'bikie extraordinaire'
But the cold hard reality was that I knew that money wasn't plentiful that year, and much was already being spent on equipping me out with all my new uniforms and shoes, school bag and stationery, etc., etc. for entry into HIGH SCHOOL. I understood - and totally (if sadly) accepted this. I knew there would be Christmas presents for me - but not a bike. And I was right...gifts galore from my parents and siblings...focused on my future school 'wish list'.
In the midst of all this, I was asked to go to our spare room to get something - and went, my feet racing, in order to get back to the unwrapping business - and there, leaning against the linen cupboard was my dream come true - A BIKE! Oh-h-h-h!
It was the loveliest thing I had ever seen, with a great red bow tied on the handlebars - and it was blue, my favourite colour. And not just any old blue, you understand - it was iridescent with minute sparkles, and it was the uncanny deep kind of blue of a summer sky. The seat was an off-white leather, as was the trim on the thin 'racing' style tyres...and there was heaps of brilliantly shining chrome - the bell, the handlebars, the pedals, and the myriad of spokes of the wheels. And a basket up front on the handlebars, and a spring holder at the back to secure my school bag (or the odd passenger).
I cried...I couldn't breathe...and I laughed...and I cried some more. And behind me I heard some stifled laughter and then a chorus of voices - my parents and my siblings - all squashed in the doorway to witness my reaction. Well-ll-ll, a reaction was certainly what they shared!
No more dreams - just the beautiful, amazing reality of being a 'bikie extraordinaire'
OF COURSE You Must See
....the most beautiful bike in the world..
...and is the Owner proud? Well-ll-ll...maybe just a tad!
Stranger danger
An interesting thing, which says much for those kinder and simpler days - in all the 'biking' my friends & I did - (and we did a lot) we only ever had one 'questionable' safety moment.It was one balmy, sunny Saturday afternoon when we weren't at the local 'flicks' for the special Saturday afternoon cartoon festival, and instead, my best friend Judy and myself were just aimlessly riding around in the surrounding suburbs - undoubtedly talking 'boys' (were there other subjects?). A car came up along and pulled up alongside us, and the guy inside asked directions to a certain street - all OK so far - we didn't even vaguely think of danger. So we told him and then he said he couldn't really follow our directions - would one of us come with him in the car and show him, and then he would bring that person back to the other one and the bikes.
Well-ll-ll, we will never know what that outcome would have been, because, with that suggestion came an uneasiness, followed by the first strange stab of fear - a feeling unknown to us before this moment. Why? We could never say, but after one quick glance at each other, we took off at full speed, turning down the first narrow lane a car couldn't fit, (but one that we knew took us to another street in the next block). We were all hot and sweaty - and not only because of the extra effort we had expended to 'put on the speed'. Just the thought that he was maybe up to no good made us get a little hot and prickly around the collar, and down the spine. You know that awful hot/cold sensation?.
Can't remember if we told anyone - don't think so - too worried we might be stopped from our 'rides'. I think our plan was to get important details and next time report the whole story to Police and parents. Of course, now that we were prepared - nothing else ever happened. We were too young to realise how grateful we should be for this - we just felt a bit 'let-down' - now that we were ready for anything. Two little girls, barely teenagers...pretty formidable team...huh?
As I said at the beginning of this small story - what a gentle world it had been for us in those days - and you have to wonder, was this the beginning of the end of innocence? How incredibly sad that so much freedom has been taken away from us all - by a minority of monsters. Our young life was so uncomplicated - so very safe.
Cycling...and Cooking
...but not simultaneously!
I know I'm an exceptional MFF (multi-functioning female) BUT even I can only do one of these at a time. It's just that, whilst we're on the 'bikie bandwagon', I have another story, that also happens to include a cookery 'lesson' (not the usual kind).One of our weekly classes in High School was 'Home Economics' (or cooking and associated hygiene, plus home management skills) - a double lesson to enable us to cook an array of meals/snacks/treats. This particular time, we cooked a scrumptious slow-cooking dish called 'Beef Olives' - a delightful beef roll, filled with herbs and bacon and tomato, AND olives (a massive specialty in those days). - truly delicious..
Each student brought their own ingredients, so my Dad, the butcher, gave me a piece of top stewing cut of meat & bacon rashers, and Mum provided all the filling ingredients. So, came the lesson, and I painstakingly made these stuffed rolls of beef, in a gorgeous rich gravy - and had two 'beauties' to bring home in a saucepan in the trusty handlebar basket of my bike. All good so far, and only a tiny bit of gravy leaked over the edge of the saucepan on the odd bump or wriggle of the wheel when I looked over my shoulder. It wasn't much...really!
But unfortunately, it WAS enough to 'force' a dog to started following me and my wondrous aroma. I tried to be strong...truly. I tried not to look at him. And I really tried not to imagine he was maybe underfed, perhaps even starving. It was like I told my Mum later...I REALLY tried! But resistance was basically useless. I just couldn't stand it any longer and made the executive decision that it was most definitely a 'lost & starving' waif of the world, and the very least I could do was to give it something - anything - to save its Life.
So I put the saucepan on the ground - and the way it 'wolfed' it down proved to me that I had done the only possible 'humane' thing. We both smiled broadly at each other after that, and with some vigorous wagging of his tail, and much patting and stroking by me...he went on his way. And I went on mine. And the closer I came to home, the less sure I felt that anyone would understand - especially my Mum and Dad. Uh-oh!
Just as I suspected, and unfortunately for me, Mum & Dad didn't share my opinion - they were just a little upset - especially as Mum had specially made more 'Beef Olives' to add to my two, so there would be one each for us all. UH-OH!!!
I seem to remember an exceptionally early night without my obligatory 'story' - following a vegetarian meal...for only me! Oh-h-h-h!
So you see, my 'you beaut' bike couldn't ALWAYS get me out of trouble!
There Was A Uniformity
...to our School Uniforms
Believe it or not...that is probably the finest, kindest thing I could say about what we HAD to wear. Even a budding Miss Universe would be appeared plain, frumpish - just your basic bag of spuds tied around the middle, to bulge out every which way above and below.It started with a white shirt just like a man's with pointed 'twin-peaks' collar, with a school tie, ALWAYS worn firmly and neatly in a Windsor knot in the absolute centre, with the tail tucked inside the shirt, and the front tucked into the tunic, with a slight puffiness. Get that bit wrong, and any teacher who noticed it would pop their fingers under it and flip it out, somehow dislodging the knot, so you had to start ALL over again!
The tunic - ahh - Darkest Navy Blue - a charming (?) garment made of a coarse and strong cloth called Serge - with a square sleeveless yoke (NO joke!) and three broad box pleats both front and back. A belt was then tied around the waist and the desired effect was achieved - obviously to make a blossoming young girl as unattractive to the opposite sex as it was humanly possible.
Budding bosoms were flattened, whittled waists and 'honeys' of hips were lost in those 'puritanic' pleats. The gorgeous long legs of growing teens were hidden, ''foreshortened' and trivialised by the short white socks and regulation ugly black lade-up shoes.
There was a grey woollen jumper with blue and white stripes at V-neck and wrists, and a Dark Navy Blue woollen Blazer (or jacket) with an embroidered school emblem and motto - 'Ad Astra per Aspera' (I think) - meaning 'Aspire to the Stars' (or something similar, I think). You see, the bad news is that in our 'Commercial' studies, Latin was not a choice on the curriculum - and so I know little. The good news is that I do know enough of it to definitely say - it is NOT 'Dancing With the Stars'. Also, most fortunately, I've survived without it - so far!)
The Bookwork Changed
...because everything Old was New...Once Upon a Time!
Oh look...I know I am getting longer in the tooth...(huh?...that's not how it is in reality!)
and...I can't say I ACTUALLY experienced this stage of the 3R's evolution!
however...this IS funny...
(and excuse me, but isn't that an ancestor of Gil's giving the advice and tuition??)
and...I can't say I ACTUALLY experienced this stage of the 3R's evolution!
however...this IS funny...
(and excuse me, but isn't that an ancestor of Gil's giving the advice and tuition??)
And Then Along Came...
TYPING
I simply could not believe it when I first saw this exact same model Imperial typewriter in a Museum. This was the one I actually learnt typing on at Woodville High school!! Good Grief! I knew I was getting older - but really!!! (Actually, wonder if they need an operator of similar vintage? Could be a promising future for me there - could type up a few Squidoo lenses 'on the job', as it were!)
But back to the classroom of 'antiquity'. Take a closer look at that keyboard...my fingers DID...and were nearly neatly 'filleted' on many occasions, when fine fingers just slipped between those unforgiving metal keys. Oh-h-h the pain...never to be forgotten. And how come the little 'pinky' finger didn't break off with the sheer effort required to hold down the Shift key, or engage the Caps Lock key? As I skim along this 'you beaut' keyboard of today's world, I marvel...at where we have come from....and where we could possibly go, in the future.
I actually have no idea how one learns to touch-type this century...but 'in my day' (chuckles...I love saying that!...one of the perks of maturity!)
...yes, 'in my day'...our Mothers had to hem up a rectangle of cloth (calico was preferred), with long ties on each corner , so this could be tied around behind the typewriter, and down around the legs of the table the typewriter sat on. At first, I think we would have to practice a lot, actually looking at the keys, and memorising the rows - and then we 'budding' typists must learn to type legibly without being able to see the keys...in other words, with our hands beneath the cloth, now securely tied down. Some pretty weird languages were born in those heady days..but with the help of the odd furtive peek, and the not so rare 'whack' of a ruler on fingers if you were caught...we became 'touch typists'. Instant Learning attitudes were developed almost overnight!
The methods were harsh, it's true...but amazingly effective. For myself, I have used and honed this skill all of my life, and today, type as fast as I write...but, try as I will, neither of these can match my talking...oh-h-h!
Can you imagine that 50 years later, amongst the first 'computering' I learnt, was how to send e-mails, firstly at the Library & TAFE - and then via my own computer after I had Internet connection! The most amazing & wondrous part of this, for me, is the unimaginable speed that these 'bullets' speed around the world, & back again - wow!! What an amazing transition/development/evolution/whatever - wouldn't you agree?? Even funnier to imagine 'experts' in the 1930's believing that by the turn of the century (2000), computers would weigh less than one ton!!!
Wow!! if only they could have known! The progression through storage devices, floppy disks, through CD's, DVD's, MP3's (and 4's, etc., etc.) - and USB devices that continue to get smaller and yet hold ever-increasing 'content ..it's stunning to have seen this much technical progress in one lifetime. Little wonder I have described myself elsewhere as having lived 'in interesting times'.
1959 - 1960 Norwood High School
...On The Buses may have been funny in England...but NOT at my place!
We moved from the suburb of Croydon, near Adelaide in South Australia (to a brand new northern subdivision in another suburb called Magill) half way through the first term of my 2nd year of High school (or Year 9 of my school education). I finished out the term at Woodville High, by taking a bus from Magill to Adelaide, and then another to Woodville - and then again in reverse, to come home. I believe the entire travelling time could take well over two hours. Added to the actual school hours, it was all too much - exhausting in fact, even for a totally 'on the go' teenager, trying to hang on to old friendships and emotional ties. And then trying to complete all prescribed homework as well? Pre-laptop and earphone days, even reasonably uninterrupted study whilst travelling on buses wasn't an option. (Oh-h-h, I just went into a short daze...imagining!)I began the second term at the nearby Norwood High School - after May holidays that year. (We had three terms in the school year in those days - with holidays in May, September & Xmas). Indelibly imprinted is the tremendous apprehension and loneliness of starting the first day, surrounded by strange surroundings, and a sea of 'foreign' faces of both students & teachers alike - that was a seriously 'cold sweat' moment!! What was I doing here? How could this possibly be better than all that travelling? And just when despair threatened to overwhelm me, suddenly there was a face I knew - a girl who had also been a student at my beloved 'old' Woodville High School - and, (I would learn), her family had also moved to Magill, at almost the exact same time!
Francie and I had never been friends, nor 'enemies' - had actually only just known each other by sight, possibly by name - but now we became instant 'best friends'. In this case, 'familiarity' most certainly did NOT 'breed contempt'. At first, it seemed most unfortunate that our life ambitions differed considerably, causing us to have chosen different subjects to achieve our goals. However, this would lead to friendships with other students with shared interests and prevent us from staying in a tight little world of just the two of us.
Unbeknown to any of us at that time, Francie actually lived just two streets away from my future husband - and none of us knew this until some years later. We have often wondered if he and I saw each other in those years...and have laughed at what our five year age difference would have 'looked like' back then, when I was a schoolgirl, still stumbling and bumbling along, trying to find my way - and he was nearing the end of his apprenticeship, and about to conquer his corner of the world...full of confidence and promise and self-belief.
Young love
...or 'crushes'.
(No...not with the hubby, mentioned just now. He was nowhere on my horizon at this time).No...the 'loves' of my life at this age were all 'crushes' (mostly on teachers/film stars and the like)...and 'wannabe in love' type romances (?).
One teacher was the Science master, teaching a subject I tragically did not 'do'. (NB: This was tragic only because I could have ogled him legally for up to an hour at a time...and maybe shared some 'personal encounter' time with also, as he patiently explained some finer scientific point to me....oh-h-h, only in my dreams...tragically!) He was beautiful - truly! Tall, blonde, piercing blue eyes, a chin chiselled from marble (well...that's how it looked to me...and all the other besotted teenage girls!), and a physique to die for (well...our hearts beat so fast, you'd think death could be imminent!). He HAD to know we all loved him...but whomever was in his personal life MUST have been really 'something', because he never looked twice at any of us gorgeous gigglers - his loss! (well...that's what we told ourselves!)
Another teacher we all loved (relax...nothing sinister here, I promise) - was our female French teacher. She was not actually French, but had spent some years living and working in France and had totally absorbed everything about this country, its language, music, food and people. And her enthusiasm and charisma were such that she taught us how to appreciate, embrace and celebrate cultures different than our own. The fact that she too, was a beautiful human being - both inside and out, had much to do with us all loving her so. The lyrical lilt and romance of the French language played no small part in this, also.
And boys? Well-ll-ll...talked about them heaps, fantasised, dreamed impossible (or highly improbable) dreams - and in those 'innocent' times, experienced little more than dreams..and a couple of furtive, hot and sweaty-type kisses. So it was not exactly a case of 'sweet sixteen and never been kissed'...but pretty close!
I could waffle on about the boy called Andrew, three years older than me, who had a 'motor bike' and rode it to school!...and how I loved him for months...from afar! And how he once turned up at my front door...to ask me out (wait for it!)...with his best mate!!! Oh-h-h-h....I said 'No thank you'...and closed the door...and cried...and fell 'out of love' with him instantly. I could waffle on about a wedding of a distant relative I went to with my parents, and an instant 'in love' again...with the first boy I had ever danced with...and when no further contact ever ensued...fell 'out of love' - AGAIN!
I could waffle on about these and other stories of thwarted young love, but I won't.
(Did I just hear a collective sigh of relief?)
High School
...and High Hopes
We all move into our teen years in different fashions - but maybe there are more common ties than we realise.
Did your aspirations of higher education match the reality?
YES...came up smelling like a rose (after much blood, sweat and tears!)
susannaduffy says:
Then i ruined it all by getting pregnant!
NO...total waste of time. I learned everything I needed...AFTER my schooldays.
prosperity66 says:
Cause I met my future husband, but I learned much more afterwards than I would have done at school - I had so different interests in that time, lol.
Helene-Malmsio says:
I started out well in High School, top grades, thought that I could go into either sciences or the arts, but ended up working at 14+ and only got my diplomas etc later in the workplace.
Amazing Antiquities uncovered
...on Amazon!
Archives reveal prehistoric cache....read all about it!
Happy Days at Your Place?
...or just a Happy Daze about those Days?
If you haven't gathered together information and photos of your 'terrible teens' (and all the years each side), please consider doing it. Here on Squidoo is a fun place to start...don't you think?
If you enjoy my maudlin meanderings...why not show off your own? Go on!
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OhMe Jan 31, 2012 @ 7:57 am | delete
- This is so well done and sure was an interesting read.
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ahumin Sep 20, 2011 @ 9:43 am | delete
- I really enjoyed this. Thank you for taking the time to document it! I was born in 1949 so came from the same era -- I'm in the U.S. but there is a lot of similarity.
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punkgrinder
Sep 10, 2011 @ 5:00 pm | delete
- Great lens and a great read, thumbs up!
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Helene-Malmsio
Sep 5, 2011 @ 2:28 pm | delete
- I forgot to mention, that I remember getting Home Ed classes, learning to wash clothes with blue rinse and starch, and how to hand sew some bookmarks (that we later traveled to an old people's home to give out to them) and the basic rudiments of cooking. Good thing too, because my mother never taught me these things. And I also had my first 'secretarial' lessons on a typwriter, and the teacher made me remove my nailpolish! But it was not until later as a teen in Secretarial College that I learned to touch type and write shorthand etc. *Memories*
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Helene-Malmsio
Sep 5, 2011 @ 2:25 pm | delete
- What a fun lens - I need to dig up what few photos I have of my childhood and teens. The biggest problem for me is finding the time to scan and to create a lens about this subject. Great work - congratulations!
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susannaduffy
Jul 6, 2011 @ 8:48 pm | delete
- Sadly I lost all of my photographs in a fire and now rely on my brother to find the old Brownie Box snaps on top of his wardrobe. My school has a photo with me in it on their wall but I can't even take a photo of the photo - the glass just reflects back
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That Terrible Typing Tuition
...DID pay off!
Otherwise, I'm sure I could not have written...and then typed enough material to win this beautiful award -
Thanks for coming by....hope you enjoyed the read!
by cdcraftee
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