Short Stories

My TARDIS Trip

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Today, a Time and Relative Dimension in Space machine has transported me back over five decades to the late sixties to revisit three life-changing events.

I met Bob in 1968 following my posting to the Riverina town of Hay (Australia). Although a teacher colleague, Bob lived further west: Primary trained, his posting lay 321 miles downstream in the village of Maude. To quote AB Patterson, his school stood: ‘On a road never cross’d ‘cept by folk that are lost’2. OK, that’s not one-hundred-per cent factual but, ‘tis true, if I taught in the bush, then Bob taught in the sticks.

Allow me to paint the scene: Hay’s population numbered around three-thousand-plus, but the whistle stop of Maude boasted thirty: that is, according to Bob. My town provided residents with a street chockablock with shopping opportunities but Bob lived in the pub amid a handful of dwellings. Unlike the hiccups of Murrungrung and Murragi, Bob’s backyard did ‘get a guernsey’3, courtesy of the nearby dam. The ABC4 announced the river height daily—Maude weir upstream, Maude weir downstream.

Bob schooled a score of students ranging from kindergarten to grade six in a single room while the handful of teenagers in the area travelled by bus daily and schooled in Hay. Sadly, Bob’s building closed in the eighties: a family of seven moved into town, rendering this educational facility unviable.

Now, close your eyes and listen as a wheezing, groaning noise followed by unmistakable ‘vworps’ fades us back to 1969 and three life-changing events.

Yes, in Bob’s microcosm, July twenty-one 1969 marked a defining moment. The local petrol-powered generators fell silent as 240 volts of grid electricity powered its presence into the lives of Maude residents. Despite this technological turning point, however, celebrations went unnoticed by the average Aussie because another watershed event overshadowed Maude’s memorable milestone. Believe it or not, on the same day: ‘The world all stopped to watch, on a July afternoon, Watched a man named Armstrong walk upon the moon’5.

And life-changing event number three you ask? Five days later, a young teacher, conscripted to the Armed Forces and staring down the barrel of a posting to the jungles of Vietnam, having plighted his troth, walked her down the aisle.

Now fade back to 2024. Fifty-five years have passed and Maude, whose population has increased sixfold, takes grid power for granted. Moon landings also increased sixfold with the last visit in December ’72. 

And of the greatest importance, my soulmate endures.

‘Yes, the TARDIS is dimensionally transcendental; it’s bigger inside than out.’ Dr Who (1963?-) Humanoid

1 Australian road markers did not become metric until 1974: 32 miles equals fifty-five kilometres.
2 Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Patterson (1864-1941)  poet, solicitor, journalist, war correspondent: A Bush Christening.
3 ‘get a guernsey’ is an informal saying in Australia that means to be selected or gain recognition for something.
4 ABC: Australian Broadcasting Corporation
5 John Coburn Stewart (1939-2008): American songwriter and singer: Armstrong. This song was covered by Reg Lindsay OAM (1929-2008): Australian country music songwriter and singer.

MY BETE NOIRE

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Bad hair lessons stick in the mind like gum on the underside of a school desk.

Assemblies can ruin a Tuesday. After the Deputy’s diatribe on uniform and assorted kids are required by the sports staff, my audience arrives unhinged and often depleted.

The modus operandi for my lower, grade-four, mathematics class was a given―at all costs, arrive before the students. This day however, the bell sounded as I negotiated the stairway and crisscrossed the crowded corridor.

D’oh. The classroom groaned, burdened by thirty-two pupils.

Striding to centre stage, I stumbled over Geoff’s out-stretched legs. His two-metre frame meant a front desk was the only place he could sit in my room.

“Did ya have a good trip, Sir?” reverberated around the room, accompanied by razzing and cheering. On most occasions I excused ‘Gangly Geoff’ but today―arghhh.

On gaining some semblance of order, I realised I had forgotten teaching resources essential for the lesson. Reminiscent of episode three in an older “Dr Who” saga, all appeared lost.

Then…“This f#*%ing bag won’t open”. Not loud, but audible. And almost before anyone could holler, “Did ya hear that, Sir,” the classroom became a courtroom. Heads swung from Danny to me. Yep, now I’m the judge, the jury, and the executioner.

And Danny had form so everyone reckoned his next transgression signalled disaster. As a koori kid, from the nearby hostel, he was likely to be sent packing. I pointed to the door as anxiety welled in his eyes. Outside, I reassured him his misdemeanour would be dealt in-house by me. His verbal abuse, whilst unacceptable, had not been aimed at any person.

An unmanageable rabble confronted me as I re-entered the court and approached the bench―I mean, my table.

“Will he get expelled, Sir?”

“What’s gonna happen, Danny?”

Bothermacready. Now Ange was cruising the room, smug faced, and hiding contraband. With my fuse now shorter than Danny’s patience, I motioned toward the corridor.

Well, I ranted, I raved, and I riled. I would covet that illicit item. “Win-Win,” at any cost. And Ange? Just as self-assured, stubborn and defiant.

I am indebted to Ange’s mate who appeared from nowhere and rescued me. She produced the “offensive” material—only a snapshot of Ange and John Farnham taken at his recent concert.

This forty minutes still haunts me as I endeavour to rationalise my behaviour—albeit in vain.

“Out damned Spot”.

 

“Nothing stands out so conspicuously, or remains so firmly fixed in the memory, as something which you have blundered.” Marcus Cicero (106-43BC) Roman Philosopher.

 

Postscript—Believe it or not! I penned this anecdote some five years ago. Last year, I was approached by our postie; “I think you used to teach me, Mr Rees”. He was correct. The year was 1995 and, as Danny’s mate, was a member of the above group. He not only recalled the incident but was able to tell me Angie’s contraband item. Yep, it’s a small world after all―and you can sing that if you wish.

 

Notes.

* Uniform: In Australia, most schools have a policy insisting some form of uniform be worn.

* Dr Who: A British TV program which has been produced, almost continuously, since 1963.

* John Farnham: One of Australia’s best-known performers and Australian of the year in 1987.

* “Out damned spot”: Macbeth, William Shakespeare.                                    

An Angel Unawares

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Alphabet Soup–a not so palatable concoction obtained by mixing the monikers of students in 7Mathematics … er ‘A-S’.
This bowl of letters represented the class that caused me the greatest anxiety. Yes-siree-bob; once they had crossed the threshold of my room, every dilemma from A to Z could materialise.
As the current group of characters attempt to exit, a rabble of five ‘A-S’ers muscles past. If I did not protest, they would ignore my pleasant greeting. Most lessons, their individual positive attributes are swamped by a mini-mob mentality. In past months, the principal has seen fit to suspend each boy for several days.
My girls arrive and say hello. Half-a-dozen beaut kids who, unfortunately, find number stuff problematical.
The assembled lads needle them as they enter and the operetta begins. Muffled voices croon, “Heeeey-Mul-let”; C-G-E. I suspect Peter-the Problem-Child is the instigator but all mouths are conveniently behind backpacks. The nickname, coiffure related, does not amuse Bashful-Beck who pleads with me. “Oh-Siii-irrr.”; G-G-C.
I must be vigilant.
More faces flounder in, increasing the ruckus as they flop in their chairs. Allan-the-Argumentative, and Neil-the-Not-so-predictable; the latter is a giant and towers over all—me included. Charles-the Chatterbox enters with several of his cronies. I am truly thankful that my other larrikins seldom sway their behaviour.
The girls gripe about the boys; the boys grouch about everything. I commence my meticulously planned lesson, overhead projector at the ready as I daren’t turn my back.
Finally, T-for-Tyler appears—it’s his form: last to leave, last to arrive—as always. Struggling with his bag, he greets me with a cheery salutation on every occasion.
Now our Tyler experiences some difficulty in scrawling his AbC and D’s. When his pen and paper collide, his book slides across the desk.  Despite what could best be described as ‘fumbled-jumble’, he perseveres—assisted by his non-slip matting.
Nonetheless, I have not encountered a more positive student. He never grumbles, scowls, or swears: rarely retaliates to taunts, and seldom speaks ill of his peers.
Oh, and I forgot to add, Tyler has palsy. He limps. His left arm is withered and hangs awkwardly.
Yet Tyler remained the salt that added a well-needed, rich savour to that soup.
“The only disability in life is a bad attitude.” Scott Hamilton. (1958- ) American, Olympic Skater.

Angel Unawares Blog

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High Five Duncan

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High Five Duncan

Duncan froze, too scared to accept his certificate–or perhaps his feet were nailed to the stage stairs.

Presentation Days are an inside affair, but Duncan preferred the outdoors. He reminded me of a white-skivvied ‘Wiggle’ as daily he aided the General Assistant. Together they toiled through a host of school chores.

The WigglesBright-eyed but shy, he would greet acquaintances with a robust ‘high five’. Today, however, the packed assembly hall represented unfamiliar territory–a daunting experience for the young man.

It had been an epic journey. Intellectually handicapped, Duncan had not experienced the smoothest transition from the junior classes to the senior ranks. Nonetheless, caring staff members had prepared him for this gathering.Skivvy

The pupils in our Support Group, of which Duncan was a member, represented an essential part of the school. They joined the student body for recess, lunch and assemblies. Athletics and swimming carnivals were included in their favourite activities. The presence of these teenagers encouraged a community of understanding and acceptance. We considered ourselves fortunate.

Today though, Duncan and his colleagues in the academic stream would be presented with their Year 12 Certificates. Dignitaries, teaching staff, fellow students, parents and friends filled the hall on this auspicious occasion. But Duncan’s runners were riveted to the highest tread.

Conscious of his hesitation, I read his name slowly. How could his anxiety be alleviated? With only a second to act, I shuffled around the lectern, stepped forward, and raised my hand. Duncan’s face lit up like a surprised contestant who had just won a ten kilogram advantage at the ‘Biggest Loser’ weigh-in.

Jumping onto the stage, he gave me a ‘High Five’ I will never forget. Classmates cheered. The audience clapped. His mum cried.

And Duncan, displaying the true grit of John Wayne and Jeff Bridges combined, accepted his certificate.

“It is not our disability that is the problem, but rather it is the way our disabilities are viewed by others.” Drexel Deal – American, Member of the Disabled Persons Organization.

Notes:

  • A Skivvy is a name used in the United States and Australasia for a turtle-necked top.
  • The Wiggles are an Australian children’s music group. They are known, among other things, for their brightly coloured skivvies.
  • The Biggest Loser is a reality television show in which overweight contestants attempt to lose weight.
  • ‘True Grit’ is the title of two movies, each of which is an adaption of the Charles Portis 1968 novel of the same name. The first movie, from 1969, starred John Wayne and the second, released in 2010, saw Jeff Bridges in the lead role.

Short Story Post#2

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The Die is Cast

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‘ALEA IACTA EST’ (The Die Is Cast)

Zen masters live a life of meditation.

I wonder if any has contemplated the question, “If a die falls in the classroom and no one hears it, does it make a sound?”

Search me. With today’s bunch, detecting a pin drop or hearing a pail of pins hit the floor is unlikely.

Besides, a single dotted cube amongst thirty teenagers does not constitute an effective learning experience. Then again, thirty dice with the same group is thwart with complications.

Like big Julie tippy-toeing into the river Rubicon, once I embark on my probability lesson, hesitation is futile—‘the die is cast’.

Classroom StoryI am well prepared with dice and graph paper. A primeval over-head projector sits on the front desk and my chalk sticks are crossed in the hope it behaves. My hand-outs have emerged from the photocopy room. Sure, ‘maths-speak’ cannot be avoided, but I maintain my carefully worded instructions constitute everyday English.

My introduction to the lesson is in its embryonic stage, when the banter begins.

“Sir, chuck us a dice.”

Doh! Despite telling my group that ‘dice’ is plural of ‘die’, I know Jonathon is asking for one. It’s a small point and not worth mentioning.

Once the chitchat starts, though, others want in.DICE

“I want the yellow ones, Sir. Not those lame white things.”

“Can we use the ones that go up to eight, Sir.”

“Dice don’t go up to eight, ya dummy.”

“Yes they do, we’ve used ‘em before. You tell ‘im sir.”

Bothermacready! And on paper, my lesson displayed potential.

Close to one hour rolls by—literally. I am annoyed with certain individuals who consider the desktop insufficient room to toss and land a die.

Nonetheless, final results—individual and collective—have been recorded and graphed.  The discussion ensures my charges draw the appropriate conclusion, that is, when a die is tossed, each of the six numbers has an equal chance of being on the top face. All this in fifty-six minutes. Yes-siree-bob—‘I love it when a plan comes together’.

The bell rings. Only one die has disappeared—collateral damage. I am modestly pleased with the lesson outcome. OK, I’m experiencing a warm smug feeling.

That is, until Jonathon stops as he leaves the room. “Sir, I didn’t get to toss my dice many times.”

My response? “Surprise, surprise.”

“And I got more sixes,” he continues. “So I still reckon tossing a “six” is easier than any other number.”

I shake my head, perhaps I should have remained in the drafting office.

“Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling blocks in the way of that class of thinkers who … know nothing of the theory of probabilities.” Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849) American author, poet.

Notes:

  • ‘Alea iacta est’ is a Latin phrase attributed to Julius Caesar, spoken as he crossed the Rubicon River, Italy, in 49BC. Leading his army, it was the start of a civil war against Pompey. The phrase is used today to indicate proceedings have passed the point of no return.
  • ‘I love it when a plan comes together’ comes from the Eighties TV series ‘The A-Team’. These words were often spoken by John “Hannibal” Smith played by actor George Peppard.

Short story #1This picture contains six errors. Some are easy to spot, others are more difficult. If you wish to post the mistakes you discover, include them as a comment. The six errors will be posted at the same time as the next story and will be found on the ANSWERS PAGE (Click here).