Monday 15 August 2011

week 10 - year 8


The year I started grade eight was my “coming out” year. The year I changed from someone who wouldn’t break any rules to someone who broke all the rules. The type of year that thankfully; I never had to go through with my children.

In reality it was around the end of year seven that things started to change. At the small catholic school I went to there was only one year seven class. The last week of school all bar three in the class decided to take off at lunch time to Jackie Van Baarle’s house to swim and never went back to school. Boy were we read the riot act when we finally all went back. I couldn’t believe I was game enough to go along with everyone.

Over the Christmas break between years seven and eight I took up smoking. Donna a friend of mine and I use to go into Ipswich to hang out. There was a new car park that connected to Cribb and Foote, Ipswich’s major department store. We were up the top of the car park when I had my first cigarette. I can’t remember why I like it, or even if I did but it led to me smoking for the next thirty-two years after that.

Year eight. My first day at a state school! I had gone from a school with around two hundred students to one about four times that amount. From my old school there were four of us going to the state school. We had all arranged to meet under c block as soon as we all got there.

I remember mum dropped me off at the back gate. I was petrified walking into the school. I had gone from the top of the chain back down to the baby class of the school. I found c block and nervously sat on one of the benches scouring the students looking for my friends. The more I looked the more anxious I got as I couldn’t see them. I could feel my chest getting tight and my throat closing up. That’s when it happened, I started to cry!

I can remember thinking how embarrassing it was to be crying. That everyone around me would be thinking what a baby I was. Two girls came over from year twelve and asked if I was ok. I couldn’t tell them yes or no but just looked at them. In the end they were able to talk to me and calm me down. Then helped me find the others. Their bus had been held up so they arrived just before the bell went. Well that really was a memorable day to start off my year.

Going to the school opened up a whole new group of friends for me. I got to meet others that lived in my area, most of them older than me. I also discovered boys. School at sometime towards the beginning of the year took a turn for me. I can’t remember the first time I wagged school but it was a common occurrence that year. One time in particular stands out. Probably because it shows just how naive I really was.

Wendy, Sandra and I were heading to school one day. Wendy and I decided to take the day off to catch the bus from Ipswich down to Bundamba where our boyfriends worked at the sawmill. We gave Sandra our bags and said we would get to school a bit later. Then we headed into town to wait for the bus.

Now my mother worked at a butchers shop in town, so we made sure to stay clear of there. While waiting at the bus stop a friend of mum’s walks past. Joyce stops and asks what I am doing in town. I told her I had a dentist appointment and was now heading back to school, that I was just waiting for the bus. Sounded plausible right?

Joyce headed off in the direction of the shop mum worked at. That sent us into a panic so Wendy and I decided to abandon our plans and head back to my place. We spent some time there just playing music and talking. Around 2.30 we thought we better head to school to get our bags.

As we were walking along, a teacher passed us in his car. He came back and asked what we were doing. We told him that Wendy had gotten sick on the way to school that morning and I had taken her back home but had to sit with her as no one was home. That my bag was at school as I had expected to come straight back there, so now was going to collect it. Yet another plausible reason, right?

He told us to report to the office when we got to school. So off we go and front the female deputy and tell her our story of how Wendy was sick. All was going ok.

That night mum said that Joyce mentioned she saw me in town. I told mum that a friend at school got hurt and had to go to the hospital so the school sent Wendy and I with her and we were waiting for a bus to go back to school. Ummm pushing plausible do you think?

On parade the next morning my name and Wendy’s were called out and we had to front the office. The deputy asked us where our notes were? Damn we had forgotten about that, but told her we would have them the next day.

Now Caroline that I went to primary school with was good at writing notes. Her handwriting was much more mature than ours, so we got her to do the notes. Mine was signed from my grandmother, so that they couldn’t compare the handwriting to mum’s.

Fronting up to the office the next day with the note, the deputy asked why my grandmother had written it. I explained to her that my mother was extremely ill at the moment and my grandmother was staying with us to look after us, as mum couldn’t get out of bed. I think at this stage I went wayyyyyyyyy past plausible.

That afternoon I got home to find mum there ropeable that the school had rung her about how sick she was. She told me “wait until your father gets home”. I knew what that meant and headed into my bedroom to put on about six pairs of undies, as I knew a hiding was coming.

I don’t remember which was worse, the waiting for it or the strap that I got when dad got home. But it didn’t stop me from wagging school. It was worked out once that I had over one hundred days off school that year.

Not only did I wag school but also we would smoke behind the tractor shed on the oval at lunchtime and I was in countless fights. I think most of the teachers knew me mainly from sitting outside the office since that is where they all got to talk to me.

Another time Caroline and I went to all year ten classes. We told the teachers we were exchange students. Luckily most of the kids in the classes went along with it.

That was the only year I spent as this school. My parents got a phone call at the end of the year saying that they thought it best if I didn’t return for year 9.

It was sad to leave but boy did I have fun that year.

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