More about School

I had Perkis for two years and was caned a number of times during that time.  But I wasn't Robinson Crusoe in that; he even caned at least one girl.

The most notable occasion was when he had organised a 'detention' to rebuild a fence that we (children) had collectively destroyed; playing  'Bengal Lancers' with some long steel poles that once held the wire around the tennis court.  

Several children to a pole, we charged the fence knocking out one paling after another; until just the posts and horizontal bars remained.  

Perkis was supposed to be supervising us and desperately undertook to repair the damage.

This involved himself and the ten-year-old boys sawing replacement paling lengths out of a pile of timber from the recently demolished (and recently rebuilt) Girls 'dunny' (toilet block) at the school.  Children then transported the very orange planks (the toilet block was painted orange, at least on the outside) down to the Presbyterian Hall; where Perkis nailed them up in place of the broken palings.  

A couple of friends and I had skipped off for lunchtime.  Probably down to the the local bakery; the fruit trees on the railway embankment; the big culvert; or somewhere else more amusing.  But a friend and I got caught returning to school.  I had also, undiplomatically, mocked the 'girl's dunny fence' with its bent over nails; and orange palings that weren't even nailed-up straight.  

I got 'six of the best' for that - three 'cuts' on each hand.

Apparently the Presbyterians took a similar view about the orange fence; it didn't last long.  Thinking back, I realise that the reason the boys could cut it so easily was that old dunny dated back to the previous century and the cladding timber was probably Australian Red Cedar.  Today it is very valuable.  If it had survived it would probably be the most valuable fence in Thornleigh.

One special friend at school was Bob Piper.  Bob has now added a little more:  "I remember the bengal lancers, fence palings episode well.  I was one of the ones that pissed off and came back when it was nearly finished."

Bob has written a story available, on line, about another teacher we had,  Mr Pallane (Sabre Jet).  (See Bob's story 'DOROTHY’S COTTAGE' about half way down the PDF linked here).   Mr Pallane gained additional qualifications and moved to my High School where he taught me English in third year (year 9).  

My previous English teacher Dr Sutching was a good teacher, from whom I learnt a lot, but had consistently marked me down because I couldn't spell (I've probably misspelled his name); and because he was fighting a class-war against people like my factory-manager father; and especially my English Conservative Alderman grandmother, who had addressed the school during a visit to Orstralia.  

He even put one of the boy's up to giving an anti-Imperial speech on Commonwealth Day. Resulting in the Headmaster (the Boss - Mr Pearson) ordering me to turn off the microphone.  I was in charge of the sound system.

But Mr Pallane greeted me like an old friend and encouraged my writing so that by the end of that year I was second in the class; but still couldn't spell very well.  There was then a public examination, 'The Intermediate Certificate' after which many children left school.  I did very well in English and went on to matriculate to University.

I agree with Bob - he was an excellent teacher - despite a reputation for a violent temper.

In reminiscing about the now long gone Thornleigh Public School I looked up some old photos on-line and found this one (click on it to follow the link).  

This was on my way to school.  

Across the intersection is Trace's Produce store.  It provided everything from seed for local farmers, to coal, coke and timber for fires.  They had big bins of dog biscuits that we children occasionally stole to chew on.  

To keep down the rats and mice there were lots of cats and if you wanted a kitten he would deliver one with the firewood.  

The office was to the right of the front door and on the counter was an electric bell push to summon the staff or 'Tracy' from the back of the building.  

If the office was empty we would dodge in the door and ring the bell as we passed.  With any luck he would come raging up from somewhere with a fearsome sack-hook in his hand to chase us off.

You can see that this picture was taken a few years later, when I was already in high school.  There is now concrete curbing outside the upholsterer and on up the road.  It looks quite new.  The street lights are the mercury vapour ones that Peter's balloon blew-out (see below).

In the far distance you can just see two service stations (BP and Esso) and beyond that, around a bend, was the school.  The Esso had big tiger footprings painted on the forecourt and the slogan:  'Put a Tiger in your Tank'.  They gave away tiger-tails to attach to your petrol cap.  

When they were building one of these stations they dug a huge hole for the underground tanks.  But because it was solid rock in that location they needed explosives.  Big heavy hemp mats were laid over each 'shot' to stop flying debris.  We stood down the road and watched the process; it was wonderful!  Much better than our own feeble efforts.

Behind the photographer and to the left is Barnes' Bakery.   Note the telephone number with the WJ prefix ( = 84 in those days - it's changed).