Mrs Jean Holkner
My parents had only been in Australia a few years before I was born, so I went to school speaking that classical language ... Yinglish.
Somebody told my folks that the best school in the country was Princes Hill. But we were living in Brunswick at the time. Never mind, sacrifices must be made. So you'll walk the mile to Princes Hill! After all you are going to be the first Jewish lady doctor in Australia. And Princes Hill has got an orchestra. Which means if you fail the exam for doctors you could maybe become the first world famous Jewish lady violinist.
The orchestra, as it turned out, was the school brass band and no girls allowed so that was the end of that.
Walking to school by myself I had to watch out for the horse and cart, the pile of manure in the middle of the road and dogs. So I always crossed the road when one of those nasty yappy things appeared.
But my worst fear lay at the end of the journey Ö if you're late the STRAP awaits you.
Being late was the cause of my playing the wag at the ripe old age of six.
It was lunch-time and I'd taken my wurst sandwiches to my friend Gertie's place. This was so I wouldn't be the butt of kids running round the shelter shed holding their noses and crying, 'Pooh, who's got smelly old garlic for lunch?'
Anyway on this day we forgot the time and suddenly we heard the bell ringing. Frantically we ran down the street. Too late. The school yard was deserted. Is there anything more terrifying than to be outside a deserted school-yard when you're supposed to be well and truly inside?
Being late meant THE STRAP for sure and being a cowardly pair of six-year olds we decided to spend the afternoon hiding behind some bushes on the plantation across the road.
What a long, guilt-ridden afternoon it was. With every rustle of leaf or crackle of twig we would crouch down further expecting Miss Gordon to leap out any minute and give us if not the strap, at least a good dose of ruler round the legs.
When the home-time bell rang and I could see my Dad at the school gate and we came out of hiding. Then the whole sorry truth came out. Miss Gordon was as nice as pie and said of course she wouldn't have done anything to us if we had just come and told her the truth about forgetting the time. HA!
Well, THE STRAP continued to loom large through Grades Two, Three and so on and by the time you got to Grade Six you knew that it wasn't only for being late, but for not knowing all about England ... its cities, mountains and the names of all its rivers, do you know how many rivers there are in the place?
England and the whole British Empire thing took over our lives - Anzac Days, Armistice Days, Empire Days, saluting the flag, Land of Hope and Glory, Rule Brittania, Ö 'I love God and my country' ... All this at school while at my Mum cooked gefillte fish and chicken-soup and blessed the candles, while my Dad played Sophie Tucker singing My Yiddishe Mame, on the gramophone ... always with tears in his eyes, because he'd left his own Yiddishe Mame behind in Palestine in order to chase my Mum to Australia and maybe some of the tears were about having made that choice.
There were about 45 kids in our Grade Six and about 10 % were of the gefillte fish variety.
'Gee, I wish I was Jewish,' the other 90 per cent would sigh. But that was on the eve of Yom Kippur or Pesach when they'd have to go to school and we didn't.
But the boot was on the other foot on Christmas Day. When they'd be in the street pushing their brand-new scooters and two-wheeler bikes and dolls prams past our place calling out 'Didn't your mother and father get you anything for Christmas?'
Christmas was a real conflict, the days leading up to it especially. For the last two weeks we made paper chains and blew up balloons for decorating the classroom. Miss Boddy taught us Away in a Manger, and we Jewish kids managed that by putting our hands over our mouths when we got to the bit about 'Little Lord Jesus' so she wouldn't see we'd stopped singing.
'This year,' said Miss Boddy, 'we will make our very own Christmas pudding in the classroom. Each of you will contribute one ingredient and we will mix the pudding here. Then I will personally take it home and boil it in a cloth so that we can have it for our party.'
She then wrote all the ingredients on the board and told us to sign for the one we would bring. 'Better check with your mothers first,' she warned.
I had a vision of my mother's response to donating something towards a Christmas pudding and decided I would have to go it alone.
In a few days' time the board was covered with items like:
1 egg V. Smythe 1 oz. mixed spice P. Watts 1/2 cup sultanas J. Nunn 1 egg B. Rotstein
I had exactly ten pence in my money-box and I scanned the list for the cheapest-looking ingredient. A quarter pound of suet sounded cheap enough -whatever suet was.
So I wrote my name next to 'suet' and when I got home I looked it up in the dictionary. 'Hard fat of kidney and loins of oxen, sheep, etc.,' it said. At lunchtime next day I sneaked past the school gate monitors and ran all the way to the butcher's.
'And what can I do for you today,' asked Mr Aronson. 'You need some brains maybe?' and he laughed and slapped his thigh.
'I would like a quarter pound of suet please,' I said.
'Suet! SUET!' He rolled his eyes heavenwards as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard. 'There is no suet in this shop. For suet you will have to go to the goyishe butcher. What you want with suet anyhow?'
His indignant cry followed me half-way down the street.
Soon I was standing outside Mr Wilkinson's shop, staring at the unfamiliar shapes in the window. My eye caught the word SUET in big red letters The thing on the plate looked harmless enough - a bit like a bath-sponge.
I looked round to make sure nobody was watching and walked inside.
'Yes, Miss?'
'A quarter pound of suet, please,' I whispered.
'Chopped up or in the piece?'
This was a complication I hadn't foreseen.
'In the piece,' I stammered. God knows why.
'That'll be fourpence ha'penny, Miss.'
I handed over the fourpence ha'penny and fled from that alien territory.
Miss Boddy looked at me a bit strangely when I gave her the suet but she didn't say anything about not getting it chopped up.
The next day we made the pudding. Miss Boddy put everything into the huge basin and we all took turns at stirring it and making a wish.
Mr Miller our headmaster came in to have a stir. 'Now boys and girls,' he said, 'it is the season of peace and goodwill towards all men and so I want to wish you all a very merry Christmas and ... WHY HAVE YOU GOT YOUR FINGERS IN YOUR EARS WHILE I'M TALKING BOY?' he suddenly roared at Benny Rotstein.
'Please you maj ... please, Sir,' he said, 'I'm not allowed to listen when you talk about ... it.'
'I see,' said Mr Miller. 'That comes from being Jewish does it?' He was sounding quite friendly now.
'How many of you are in the same predicament?' he asked.
We took a guess at what 'predicament' meant and raised our hands. 'Well,' he said, 'I'll wish you a happy Passover instead.'
'Not Passover, Sir,' said Benny, 'but Chanukah. Our next feast is Chanukah.'
Mr Miller cleared his throat. But Chanukah was too much for him. 'Well, happy whatever-it-is,' and backed out of the door.
The following year I went to High School and instead of the STRAP you were faced with a hundred lines and being a disgrace to the name of the school, But who cared? At High School I discovered LOVE! ... but that's another story.
Looking back on my schooldays, I'm glad I went to State Schools and made friends with non-Jewish kids and leamed that is possible to be both a Jew and an Australian.
A couple of weeks ago I did the ultimate Australian thing and went to the M.C.G. to see Carlton get thrashed by Collinwood.
Looks like we'll be sitting Shiva for our team again this year.