Back to Bourke

Artist: MrJoop
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Back to Bourke

Determined to become a primary school teacher, having no English, when I arrived in Australia, in May 1956, wasn;t going to stop me, from being just like my teacher, in the Jan Ligthartschool, Gouda (1952-1956).
No help with English, in those days. (Sounding just like a typical older person!) It was sink or swim. Sat out repeating the last few months of 6th grade (In the Netherlands the school year ended in July. In Sydney, in December), in Scheyville Hostel. Villawood Hostel. Chester Hill North and Matraville Primary. Fellow-pupils mainly helping me understand what was being said.
Please check out The Making of Australia.
At the end of my years at Maroubra Bay High School, I told the careers adviser that I wanted to be a teacher. He ticked the box but said very little.
I have always believed that it was the English teacher who supported me there, behind the scene.
Scraped into Wollongong Teachers College. In those days the only way in was on a bond, which meant that, early in teaching either three yours would have to be spent in “the country” or two years in the parts of New South Wales that were extra warm (hot) (more remote).
I tried to fool the system and applied for Sydney and was appointed on the far western edge, in Riverstone.
Then still had to do the country service, after three years. Searched for Maude-via-Hay on the NRMA’s map, when the telegram arrived.

Lasted two terms there and was then transferred to the other corner of New South Wales, Bourke.

Being with other young teachers there, was great! Like in college, we played a lot of 500. Played social tennis against other temporary residents (working in the banks, the council, etc.) and raced each other home to Sydney, in the breaks.
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Arriving in Bourke, for the third and last term of 1967, I was put on 6A and had it impressed on me how important it was that they did well.
Except, that they too, by now, for at least the last part of the term had done it all; had been assessed; had enough of primary school and were eager for the summer holidays and moving on to high school.

There was a dry heat. There was a water cooler, much used. The rooms were portables and quite warm.

Back in a normal size school and being allowed to do some of my favourite things. (Although there wasn’t much soccer. But there hadn’t been, at Riverstone either. Let’s not go into the reasons, here.)

Sorry, Ian, but that term, is a bit of a blur, for me. I DO remember Mrs Putland’s records having melted in the sun, and asking me how she might fix it. (She was the Infants Department Mistress.)

Accommodation, offered/arranged by the department of EDucation, was in a house, with four other teachers. Two secondary. Two primary.

I was happy enough not to be allowed to share one of the bedrooms.
Agreed to have a wardrobe turned 90 degrees to provide a kind of privacy, on the veranda, near the backdoor.

We took turns cooking. I’d never done that before. The only meal that I knew how to cook was hutspot (hotchpotch) and was simply mashed potatoes, mashed carrots and onions, mixed with so milk, and something hearty, like a sausage (or two) or other meat to add some flavour. I may have cooked twice.

As explained elsewhere, our house was not exactly neatly kept. There was a schedule for cleaning too but every so often, “Big Bruce” had had enough a a hose was put through. (Well sort of.) There WERE bullet holes in the walls too.

The primary department’s D.M. (Deputy Master) who lived next-door had to keep an eye on us. Sometimes some of us were asked to babysit too.

I remember us being summoned to the principal of the school, which was then called: Intermediate High School and was one of the few left that was still primary and secondary combined except that we weren’t even on the same premises (any more).

It was explained to us by the principal that he was now wearing his hat as our landlord and that we should behave ourselves.

While they were all good fun and Rick particularly became a friend, it wasn’t really my kind of thing and eventually I found another verandah to go and stay in. Much hotter and also shared with a teacher called Warren.
He was busy with the church groups outside school hours and we actually rarely saw each other.
By then Rick and Pauline and Dawn and I seemed to be spending most of our free time together. Dawn lived in a house divided into several flats and there was an internal door through which we used to invite each other to play cards (500).

We played 500 a number of times with an elderly gentleman (Bourke’s Deputy Mayor, at the time) and that was a bit special and different.

This burst of searching for pictures from those two years and uploading all this was caused by contact with Ian, who was in that 6A, in 1967.

He can better remember the singing with the accordion and the (square?) dancing, etc.. I DO remember the room that we were in that term and I associate it with…........this doesn’t make sense, how warm it could get and how I’d bid them all good afternoon and half an hour (or so) later, we’d (almost-) all be lying on the grass beside the municipal pool.

Back to Bourke belongs to the following groups:

Bridges, Days Gone By (Photographs must be twenty years or older and include people please), Everyday Life and Nostalgic Art and Photography