Posts Tagged ‘Southernwood Primary’
Candy Floss!
1st Day Of School
Candy floss!
It was 1972 and to this day, I remember it smelling like candy floss. My first day of school sticks out in my memory as clearly as the ink on this page. I know I didn’t cry. My brother did a couple of years later when he started school. The Daily Dispatch of the following day bore witness to it with a wonderful picture of him and my Mother on his first day – and yes ….he was crying alright. My Mom had booked off sick to take him to school on his first day. She didn’t know that she was going to get her photo in the paper though. Anyway – that’s another story altogether. I didn’t cry. This was big school… it was an adventure. I hadn’t been to nursery school. They were fully booked when I was old enough to go a year or two earlier. I remember crying then…… but this day I didn’t cry. I was excited.
I remember the windows of that little classroom being incredibly high – far above my head. I’ve never been back, although I’ve longed to, but I suppose if I were to go back there I would find the windows pretty normal. I would probably stare out of them without much effort. Somehow the outside world was so much more mysterious back then. The windows were very high. Standing on your toes wouldn’t have helped at all.
I remember Miss Whittal. She was my Sub A teacher. I liked her a lot. I have very clear memories of her writing the alphabet on the blackboard. I never did understand why it was called a blackboard when it was clearly green. I remember Janet and John and how they taught me: “See the dog. See Janet walk the dog. See John. See John throw the ball for the dog”. Somehow they seem so far away in my memory but somehow so near at the same time. I remember clearly sitting with my nose against the wall under the blackboard at break time one day. I cannot remember why but that activity was normally reserved for when you had misbehaved. I had probably been talking in class.
Thinking back now some 30 odd years later so much is still so clear. I remember Leon and Arlene. Gary, Leona and Cherith. Vanessa, Michelle, Debbie, Norman…. I could go on and on and probably recall most of their names. Of course there was Denis. He was my best friend. I’d never had one of those before and don’t quite know at what point I had decided he was my best friend. I do know I was his best friend as well. It was a friendship that would survive the next seven years – through to Standard 5 – and then just disappear into memory. Strange how life can be like that. I remember bumping into his sister in a stationary shop sometime in the 90’s and her putting him in touch with me. I phoned him at a number in Johannesburg if I recall correctly – or was it Durban? Much had changed in his life. Much had changed in mine too. Somehow we sensed we still identified but didn’t talk too much about it. I didn’t hear from him again for many many years. Today, thanks to the wonder of Facebook we are once again in touch. Denis was my first best friend.
Class Photo - Southernwood Primary
I remember how we used to have to line up outside the school building every time the bell rang. Boys in front of the one entrance and girls in front of the other. We used to file off to the boys toilets in single file in-between classes. We used to watch ‘films’ as we would call them downstairs in a tiny little narrow room at the bottom of the stairs in the boys toilets. They would normally be about nature or Geography or some or other famous person in history. Sometimes the boys were not allowed to watch the same film as the girls. We knew though it was about ‘girls stuff’.
I remember going through the different standards and am aware now that those years were an important part of my self discovery. Naturally I didn’t see that then but looking back now I realize how I developed in those years. Was it positive development? Was it negative? I’m not sure really. I believe it was necessary development. I am of the opinion that everything that happens in our lives happens for a reason and how we understand and use whatever has happened – good or bad – is what it’s really all about. Everything in life is ultimately about choice really. When you’re a pre-teen though you don’t always understand that….
Somewhere along the line in those years I discovered that not everyone liked me. I don’t remember if anything specific happened to bring me to that realization, I just remember that there were many occasions that I used to eat my lunch sitting on huge rolled up carpets under the stairs that led down to the boys toilets. I think Denis must have been with me – we were quite inseparable. I remember being called ‘Sissy’, ‘Moffie’ and a whole lot of other derogatory names. I never could understand why and most of the time I didn’t even understand what the words meant. I wasn’t really sports minded – in fact I was scared on the sports field …. not only of the ball but of the boys as well.
The teachers inspired me. There was Miss Martin who I loved very much. Her birthday was on the same day as my Ouma’s – the 12th of September. I used to take a present to school for her on that day. I remember once taking a porcelain hen that held eggs for her. She was my Sub B teacher. I remember hearing Bible stories in that classroom. I was given a little blue Bible – the King James version – because I belonged to the Scripture Union Club. It had a sticker with a picture of a bee stuck in the one cover. I haven’t seen that Bible for a long time. I know I kept it for many years.
Mrs. Battle was my Standard 1 teacher. We called her a battle axe! Miss Burmeister was my Standard 2 teacher. Her classroom was next to Miss Hinds who took the ‘Special Class’. They were children who weren’t like the ‘other’ children. I sort of identified with them although I was with the ‘normal’ children. Mr. Beaud was my Standard 3 teacher. He was a terrible person. His classroom was in a prefab building that had been built just outside the school building. He was a tall, thin, bald man who always smelled like old smoke. He used to throw cigarette lighters and blackboard dusters at you if you spoke in class. He was not very popular. My Standard 4 teacher was Mr. Kent. We felt quite special about him because we knew his first name – Richard. He was a well known South African cricketer and was quite famous in our little minds. It was a real honor to be able to say that he was our teacher. Mr. Emslie, the school principal, was my Standard 5 teacher. He wasn’t the principal when I started at Southernwood Primary. Back then it was Mr. Wegner….Mr. H.B. Wegner. No relation to a pencil.
I don’t really remember what I learnt at Primary School except for things like Racheltjie de Beer, Wolraad Woltemade, Jan van Riebeeck, Dick King (who I always got mixed up with Dick Wittington). I think my favorite subject was English. I also loved anything to do with Art – and music was just wonderful. It was a way to escape into another world. I remember detesting Woodwork. There were always such difficult drawings to do for homework – technical stuff. My brain didn’t work like that. I hated Woodwork. I clearly remember crying in my bedroom one night, very frustrated because I couldn’t do the homework I had been required to do. My Mom couldn’t help me either. I remember her asking – probably my Father: “Where did I go wrong?” That question haunted me for many years… (to be continued)