I attended Kindergarten in the Big School at Marsfield Public. I feel ancient as I write this because the old school where I began my learning (and it was very old, even before I was enrolled there) has now been demolished and I haven't been to see what they have replaced it with yet. I am still aware at this time, more than 40 years later, that I went through a confused stage at the end of kindergarten; or maybe I just dreamed it. But it comes to my mind that at that time I didn't really know where I belonged.
 
Maybe it's because, after my first year at Marsfield, I transferred to Eastwood Heights Public school. This was a new school. Conveniently located near the site of the Electrical and Toy store my parents were, later, to open. As I think back to the confusion of the time; some other considerations may be necessary. Perhaps it was due to the perceived difficulties (seen or felt, as a very young person) at home. Insecurity, or bad feelings before the eventual departure of my father.
 
There were the everyday routines of a primary school we all took part in. For example, each day we had our required free milk. Unfortunately, at times the delivered milk was not left in a suitable location. By the time we were to have our compulsory portion, it had begun to sour or become quite warm. Ways were thought up to get those more unwilling of us to drink the commanded milk, even sometimes in its very unhealthy condition. Someone came up with flavoured straws, Strawberry or Chocolate, that made it better for a lot of us. 
 
Every day there was marching. Led by Mr. Dureen, or “Derringer”, as he became known; the music man I am guessing.  I seem to remember getting to play the drum for the marching at one time.

One of the most outstanding things about my time at that school was, firstly, I got the cane for the first time in third class, (or Year 3 for the present day).

I got the cane because a couple of us boys were doing up our shoes after a sporting event but our crime was, we were sitting on the step at the end of the girls' toilet block.  You know those double ended toilet blocks where the gate on one end is locked and so on. Well, the excuse the old teacher gave for giving me the cane, and no-one else, was that I was too slow coming up to see him when I was told. The fact is I WAS SCARED!

In my younger years, and even as an adult I suffered Pneumonia several times. On one of the earliest occasions, we were staying with my Aunty Stella and Uncle Harold Barry, in Yass, in rural N.S.W. It was decided the best thing would be for my Mum and me to fly home to Sydney from Canberra, our Federal Capital. This was the nearest place from which we could be flown home. It transpired, there was some deep discussion as to the viability of flying me home.

After much discussion and consultation with Medical personnel, the final decision was made to permit us on the aircraft to fly home. 
 
When I was about 10 years old, (in Fourth Class at school) my elder brother, Joe and I, got to go and stay with our maternal Grandmother (“Nanna” as we called her) and Step-Grandfather, Harold up at ‘Haddon Rig’ Sheep Farm. We stayed for  10 or 14 days.
 
The trip out to Warren was, firstly on the Dubbo Mail train. Then Rail Motor from Dubbo to Nevertire Station. Unlike our return trip, we will talk about, this one was uneventful. We had a terrific time with Nanna and Harold (Step Grandfather, and that’s another story, for one day, down the track).
 
Every day we had fresh lamb cutlets roasted on the fuel stove, followed by bread and dripping. It was lovely. My brother found a canoe made from a few 44-gallon drums welded together. He figured out how to make a sail, and we went sailing on the creek in the middle of the property. Joe was around 14 years old at the time. I was the doting little brother. I still think back to some lovely times we had together. There is a whole lot more we could say, but in another book probably.
 
The time came for us to return home. It was the end of the school holidays and the Dubbo Mail night train was packed to the hilt. Adults and children were returning to the city after the holidays. My brother, being an adventurous type, found us a “dog box” cabin, unoccupied IN FIRST CLASS! So we settled down and went to sleep. Several hours later the conductor came through, put on the light, and said:
 “Two Boys For Sydney, right?” Then turned out the light.
 
So off  back to sleep we went. Sometime later. the light came on, again. This time, it was the Ticket Inspector! Ascertaining we were wrongfully ensconced in a First Class Cabin, we were hunted out! Back in those days, there were, of course, smoking cabins on the trains. We spent the rest of the uncomfortable night’s journey sitting up wedged between several smokers in Second Class. 
 
I don't know if Mr O'Dwyer was still the headmaster when I was in 5th class (Year 5, a year later) but that year I got the cane in larger amounts and more often. 11 times, to be precise. I remember one time I got caned was for "insulting a friend of Mr D." The 'friend' was on a radio programme we were all listening to, in a class entitled "Adventures in Music". I forget what the speaker was saying but I twiddled my finger around my ear as maybe I did not understand what the fellow was saying. Mr Dureen turned around at that very moment. So whack! Just one cut of the cane but it did hurt.
 
He was a clever, very artistic fellow, but strange, and probably one of the reasons the cane got banned in most or all Government schools later. He also knew at the time I was a student of Pianoforte, and by that time I was doing probably my Second Grade under the old AMEB (Music Examinations Board). Maybe there was a bit of personality conflict as well, seeing we were both "artistic" I guess.
 
To the teacher's credit, he did organise a lot of musicals where students performed in end-of-year concerts. I also remember my maternal grandmother (Nanna), as an expert seamstress, creating a lot of costumes for the different concerts I performed in under Mr Dureen and some others. 

I have learned in recent years that I was not the only one on the end of Mr. Dureen's cane. It would appear on this new insight to "Derringer's" antics; he spread his caning favours amongst many of the boys in his classes. The girls did not miss out either. I don't know if any of them actually got the cane but he was good at detentions and similar punishments for sometimes very trivial offences.

"Derringer" as we nicknamed him, was also especially mean to kids who were a bit different, as I was and I know at least one of the girls was, due to some handicaps we had, even though our problems were not dealt with or treated in 'them' days.

On a funny (?) side, this particular girl I am speaking of told me fairly recently that at one time she committed some misdemeanour (in his estimation, anyhow). She or someone else organized some pillows to be placed inside the classroom piano. So when "Derringer" went to play it, of course, it would not work. I don't know if he ever found out who did it.

One wonders if Derringer was of German extraction, an immigrant from the more 'perfect race' of the time less than 20 years after WWII. In those days we did not belt up teachers or bully them or threaten their very lives as we hear happens in schools in the 21st Century.

My private music tuition took a new turn after the parting of the ways with Miss Yelton I soon started with Mr Allen Holloway in Cheltenham, which involved a bus to the train station in Eastwood, then train for 2 Stations North, followed by a moderate walk to his place. He was the best teacher I ever had.

Another happening during 5th class was the Myuna Bay Fitness Camp. We had about ten days away from home and out of school. It was a Boys' Camp up on the North Coast of our state. It was an interesting affair and in some ways an example of downright child abuse.

We slept in some old tram cars set up on the campgrounds, that had come off the line that year, on the closure of the tram service in our city. I don't know if we could say that was unsuitable sleeping accommodation - I did not mind. We did a lot of interesting things there. I remember each night having sing-a-longs. One of the songs I remember is fairly well known from wartime or scouts. It was called "The Quarter Master's Store." 

My Mum and my next door neighbour playmate and childhood sweetheart, I guess, came on visitor's day to see if I was still alive.

The particular incident I am thinking was some kind of abuse was the day a group of us boys were made to STRIP; in the outdoors! Then we were herded into the bathroom/toilet area starkers and hosed off with cold water. I can't remember if the showers had hot and cold water either. Maybe they thought our cleanliness left something to be desired, but I did feel what they did to us that day, might today be considered child abuse.

Funny thing is, I tried recently to find out from some of the other boys, now fathers and grandfathers even, if they remembered this incident. Wondering if it was a dream...or nightmare, perhaps? I could not get any agreement from anyone.

In 6th Class, I was blessed to have as my teacher Mr Les Cheetham. whom, I was told, passed away in his 90's recently. He was also the headmaster. He was a lovely man and so kind to me in a year that had more than a few traumas for me, including one of the two ops I had at Sydney Hospital in 1963, then the latter in my last year of High School in 1967.

I know I enjoyed one particular event in that last year of Primary or Middle School. It was the end of year concert where we did a special production around A.B. (Banjo) Patterson's "Bush Christening" Poem. I played the "Praiste" complete with my not-really-authentic Irish. It was fun, and still to this day I get a bit of a smile thinking about that night. (Check the Link to my reading of the Poem in Author's Notes below.)

I was not a very sporty type of person. I participated in some sports in primary school, even though later on it became more apparent that my health was unsuited to any kind of energetic pursuits. This became more marked towards the end of Primary School.

One last thing about the end of the Middle or Primary School era. All of us had thought we would all go to Ryde High School in Small's Road Ryde. I felt like I was a 'cert' as I only lived about 600 metres north-west of the school. However, the majority who did not elect to go to a Girl's or Boy's High School were sent to North Ryde High, later re-named 'Peter Board' High. In passing, the latter of these 2 has since been demolished and the former, my old school, is now being considered for remodelling and re-opening as either a Middle or High School. Ryde High had, for a time, been utilized as a teacher training centre. As a much later addition, it now appears the school will be rebuilt as a new primary or even combined primary and High School due to the increased population in the area.