Linda Apakian (Hamilton) YHS 1961 wrote:
Wagging it in the ‘60’s

This story involves myself and Wendy Parker (now Surman) while at Yallourn High School from 1961–1964.

Every Wednesday afternoon was ‘Sports Day’ which, of course, all students had to attend, and Wendy and I did – occasionally – well, very occasionally!

I actually liked sport but didn’t like the second-hand sports tunic I had to wear, I desperately wanted a brand new one with those great pleats, instead of the old, faded, circular style skirt that I had. God knows who had jumped, bounced around and sweated in it before it got to me, maybe even multiple bodies had been in it!...and Wendy – well she just didn’t want to play at all - we were well matched. As soon as the bulk of them had pushed off to the ovals (in their lovely uniforms) we did a bit of a high jump ourselves over the fence and headed off on our very own hike – over the Old Coach Road to Newborough North. Sometimes we’d go and visit an aunt of Wendy’s who lived right on the edge of the Open Cut. I loved it there, lovely tall pine trees at the back of the house where Wendy and I would lie and ponder our future or as far as the weekend anyway. Amazingly, I thought, her aunt never questioned us or, more importantly, told Wendy’s mum. Eventually we would start off on our trek home. Sometimes we would opt for the short cut and hang around until the ‘tech’ boys were out of school and get on the bus with them – very exciting stuff for us, but I don’t think they were impressed at all….or we would take the scenic route over the Old Coach Road and would always stop and climb the lookout, look out and climb back down. We had to be careful of cars in case someone might recognize us or just dob us in for being students AWOL; so every time we heard a car coming, we both did a rugby-style dive into the bushes.

Both my parents worked and came home long after I did, but Wendy’s mum was at home so she would have to wait at our place until it was ‘safe’ to go home. Ah, yes it was all meticulously planned. But one day it all came horribly unstuck.

On one particular Wednesday which is burned into my memory, and Wendy’s too I discovered when we met for a reunion, we leapt over the fence, took the scenic route at a leisurely pace, arrived home relaxed and untroubled, nothing unusual here.

However, the following Tuesday there was a letter in both our mail boxes from THE SCHOOL. Oh my God! I ran around to Wendy’s place and luckily her mum hadn’t opened it so Wendy had steamed it open (as you do) to find it was from the Headmaster Mr Coulson, who we all, of course, feared and loathed (poor man). In that letter, it pointed out to our parents how on suchand-such a day, we had been absent from sport and on that day, there had been a pair of newly bought shoes stolen from a fellow student.

Well, of course, we knew nothing about the shoes, purely because we weren’t even there! But the general gist of the letter was that we might be the culprits. I had steamed my letter open too (as you do) before mum and dad got home. There was nothing either of us could do but sit and wait for the torture to begin. We were both interrogated and suitably, but unfairly we both thought, punished, and promised to go to Sports Day every day for the term of our natural school days. We both left at the end of that year so Wendy was happy and I didn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of being second-hand rose for much longer .

I don’t think we missed out on the ‘sporty’ part of the curriculum at all – I mean we jumped the fence, climbed the lookout, hiked a good few miles up a steep hill, down the other side, plus quite a few difficult dives into the flora on a fairly regular basis. I bet we were fitter than the lot who shuffled down to the oval (in their lovely uniforms), stood around staring into space hoping a soft ball would fall into their hands. I also think the planning and discipline required to set ourselves that dodgy goal, oops I mean ‘challenge’ each week prepared us better for the jungle out there.

Another positive is that now as a TAFE teacher, I can also pick when one of the ‘kiddies’ is lying through their horrible little teeth a mile away