I love leather... I would have walked on hot coals to have a
leather satchel like the one that I saw in the second hand shop...
such stuff as dreams are made of.
I always longed to go to a solid brick school, with lots of timber and surrounded by
beautiful gardens. Instead, I simply had to put up with quaint timber
schools, lots of light and open spaces and surrounded by huge Moreton
Bay figs, some literally hundreds of years old, which we were
forbidden to climb.
I would have taken notice, I really would, but
it's very hard to hear a yelling teacher calling out "ChrisTINE, for
the last time, come down from that tree, or ELSE!!" Hard, because the
branches I liked to sit on were a long way up. One hot afternoon, the
grade teacher went marching into battle, at least that's what she
looked like, straight down to my parent's shop, and demanded that my
mother do something about me climbing trees as "she is setting a bad
example". My mother got her Irish up and asked if I had ever fallen
out of a tree, or if I ever pushed anyone out of one, or even up
one... "Well, no, but..."
"No?" said my mother, and gave her her best glare, "Well you had
better get about your business and let me get about mine."
"Well, I never" said Battling Bertha, as we called our dear teacher....
she really was ok. " Maybe you should" said Mum. The teacher left, Mum
took a deep breath and I came out of the back room, all smiles.
Whack. Through tears, I asked why.. when she had stood up to the
teacher. I was told in no uncertain terms that Mum letting the teacher
know that she thought it was ok, was one thing, but me causing
problems and then the teacher needing to come see Mum was another.
From then on, I never climbed the trees, in school hours. I know I
digressed, but it still brings a smile to my face when I think of that
day and I reminded myself when I mentioned the trees.
Crissouli (c)
