Going to school - Kywong

When I was five years old I started school. I had to go on the school bus and every day I hated leaving my family. 

Dad would drive me to catch the bus and my heart would sink when I saw the bus coming around the corner. I used to cry a lot and I told Mum that some of the kids on the bus teased me; I don’t think they really did tease me, I think I was just plain miserable at having to go to school and needed an excuse for crying so much.

However, I do remember having some happy times at school, especially an occasion when the School Inspector, Mr Lake, came to school and I had to read for him in front of the class. I loved to read and this was probably when I first realised that sometimes other people had trouble making sense of the words on the page.

First aid was a concern because our school was so remote, without even a telephone to contact the outside world. Friar’s Balsam was the universal antidote for all manner of cuts and scrapes and if you had a toothache during the school day the headmaster would give you Oil of Cloves to relieve the pain.

On one occasion the school photographer arrived unannounced for school photos and we had to tidy ourselves up very quickly; it must have been a very quick preparation because in that photo my hair is standing up on end.

Growing up in such a large family circle should have assured me of plenty of self confidence but it didn't. I really hated going to school, I hated having to go to travel on the bus and I think I just hated any change in my life. 

It must have been so hard for Mum to send me off sobbing every day on the school bus. I know how she must have felt because I experienced the same thing some 40 years later when Amy was going to school most unwillingly.

Knowing what I now know I would have taken Amy’s concerns more seriously and sought professional help for us all. I was struggling to commute to work full time in Canberra as well as study part time by distance, and Peter was working at the gaol so he was often not available to help out. We got through those difficult years somehow but I still feel sad and I do hope that Amy realises that I did the best that I could at the time.

I still feel anxious when I think of little tots starting school and I already wonder how my own grandchildren will go when it’s their turn. 

Just the thought of having to leave someone so young for a whole day in a group situation fills me with trepidation – my heart starts to pound and I feel the anxiety flood through me. But why do I feel this way? Am I just transferring the memory of my own experiences onto my grandbabies? Both Sally and Ben went to school with very few problems but perhaps I identified more with Amy than with them.