Up In Annie's Room 9
Without Prejudice
Huntington when viewed from the hills was like a cameo brooch, set in a dress of green fields, dotted here and there with red roofed barns and farm houses. Cows in abundance and sheep gathered lazily at the salt licks and edges, the cows ruminating over their lives or perhaps not thinking at all and the sheep were just comical. One would leap and another would follow and then another. Their coats fat with winter growth and soon would come the shearing.
As we crossed the bridge in to the town proper I can remember thinking what lay ahead. Was it to be another school of street wise city kids or perhaps a small school like Wilson in Port Augusta...., it was impossible to know. There was an immense pool complex next to the town side of the bridge, closed for the Winter, shrouded in covers. And we turned left into what constituted the Main Street, a dreary sight in the softly falling rain and slight mist.
Our new home was a living arrangement behind the towns cafe. Three bed rooms, a large kitchen with tiny snug cum lounge room attached, a concrete area out the back with one tree that seemed to grow up in defiance from cracked concrete and two cement wash basins. A metal barrel with a handle and holy interior, placed on the back area, slightly covered from the rain, was discovered to be a potato peeling machine for the cafe.
That machine would become the bane of my life, my job to peel the spuds in this Sputnik inspired construction and I scraped many a knuckle on it and cursed each time I operated it. Large and chunky as it was. A metal monster. Our new home lay not far from what would become our new school, a short walk each morning and Heather would often be seen dragging me there, scolding and hurrying me. As ever I would be running late and crying with nerves and anxiety.
I knew what each new school entailed, a frightening first day, a boredom that would never leave me at first. My Mother having to pay a visit to Mrs Flood, my teacher, having to explain that I had passed grade one with its Janet and John and Spot the a dog and could read like an adult at 7. Mrs Flood, kindly soul that she was let me read whatever I liked and once again I became the Orator for the school, the story teller and teacher of reading to the preps.
Reading was my passion then and remains ever so, now. I devoured books, ate them up, read three at one go or stayed awake all night reading and never felt tired in the mornings, just excited to be reading more. I was a sponge for information and accelerated learning suited me fine. A boy came up to me and with mates in tow asked me to read a word written on a piece of paper, for some reason I knew Ph was an F, I can't recall the grammar rule being told to me. I call it a "pop", it just "pops" into my mind, making a tiny click, a satisfying click.
" Alphabet," I said,
and he turned to his mates and said,
" Told you, she'd know"
This turned out to be a good thing and I had no idea why, to me it was like a party trick, just something I could do, naturally. And having brothers I had learned to be competitive, and coming from a big family had to have something that was just mine. Heather sang, Alistair was the oldest, Lachlan was Mums blue eyed boy, Andrew the baby and I was just number 5 until they found out I could read and write before I went to School.
At Wilson Primary, my first school, I was one of those kids that bawl their eyes out on the first day, all day. The kindly Teacher took me to the window and said,
"Look at your brothers and sister playing out there"
And all I wanted was to be with them.
But half way through the year they put me up to Grade 1, and this was unheard of and my parents went out and bought me a wonderful plastic tiny kitchen with working taps that ran real water. Next exam a pair of rollers skates, always something as a treat if I came first and I always worked hard, was a natural little swot, mainly as it was very easy and I liked to win. Talk about positive reinforcement.
Huntington when viewed from the hills was like a cameo brooch, set in a dress of green fields, dotted here and there with red roofed barns and farm houses. Cows in abundance and sheep gathered lazily at the salt licks and edges, the cows ruminating over their lives or perhaps not thinking at all and the sheep were just comical. One would leap and another would follow and then another. Their coats fat with winter growth and soon would come the shearing.
As we crossed the bridge in to the town proper I can remember thinking what lay ahead. Was it to be another school of street wise city kids or perhaps a small school like Wilson in Port Augusta...., it was impossible to know. There was an immense pool complex next to the town side of the bridge, closed for the Winter, shrouded in covers. And we turned left into what constituted the Main Street, a dreary sight in the softly falling rain and slight mist.
Our new home was a living arrangement behind the towns cafe. Three bed rooms, a large kitchen with tiny snug cum lounge room attached, a concrete area out the back with one tree that seemed to grow up in defiance from cracked concrete and two cement wash basins. A metal barrel with a handle and holy interior, placed on the back area, slightly covered from the rain, was discovered to be a potato peeling machine for the cafe.
That machine would become the bane of my life, my job to peel the spuds in this Sputnik inspired construction and I scraped many a knuckle on it and cursed each time I operated it. Large and chunky as it was. A metal monster. Our new home lay not far from what would become our new school, a short walk each morning and Heather would often be seen dragging me there, scolding and hurrying me. As ever I would be running late and crying with nerves and anxiety.
I knew what each new school entailed, a frightening first day, a boredom that would never leave me at first. My Mother having to pay a visit to Mrs Flood, my teacher, having to explain that I had passed grade one with its Janet and John and Spot the a dog and could read like an adult at 7. Mrs Flood, kindly soul that she was let me read whatever I liked and once again I became the Orator for the school, the story teller and teacher of reading to the preps.
Reading was my passion then and remains ever so, now. I devoured books, ate them up, read three at one go or stayed awake all night reading and never felt tired in the mornings, just excited to be reading more. I was a sponge for information and accelerated learning suited me fine. A boy came up to me and with mates in tow asked me to read a word written on a piece of paper, for some reason I knew Ph was an F, I can't recall the grammar rule being told to me. I call it a "pop", it just "pops" into my mind, making a tiny click, a satisfying click.
" Alphabet," I said,
and he turned to his mates and said,
" Told you, she'd know"
This turned out to be a good thing and I had no idea why, to me it was like a party trick, just something I could do, naturally. And having brothers I had learned to be competitive, and coming from a big family had to have something that was just mine. Heather sang, Alistair was the oldest, Lachlan was Mums blue eyed boy, Andrew the baby and I was just number 5 until they found out I could read and write before I went to School.
At Wilson Primary, my first school, I was one of those kids that bawl their eyes out on the first day, all day. The kindly Teacher took me to the window and said,
"Look at your brothers and sister playing out there"
And all I wanted was to be with them.
But half way through the year they put me up to Grade 1, and this was unheard of and my parents went out and bought me a wonderful plastic tiny kitchen with working taps that ran real water. Next exam a pair of rollers skates, always something as a treat if I came first and I always worked hard, was a natural little swot, mainly as it was very easy and I liked to win. Talk about positive reinforcement.
