Back to school
Ifyou think getting up early is hard when youre a kid, try being an adult. Today is my first day of primary school in 15 years, and with no Mum in my flat to nag me from my bed, Ive overslept.
The nagging isnt completely missing, mind you: my flatmate asks if Im seriously wearing that T-shirt to school, and am I aware its got toothpaste stains on it? Smiling pleasantly, I wish her a nice life.
T-shirt choice aside, buried memories of frantic pre-school preparations rush back to me all at once as I tie my shoelaces, make a ham sandwich and leap in the car.
My photographer and I roll up to Arrowtown School at 9am. Were greeted with directions to Room 4, and a warning we may get a telling off for being late. Fortunately, Miss B lets it slide and Im given a desk with five bemused classmates: Lucy, Storm, Zoe, Tim and James.
I manage to squeeze my slender frame beneath the wee desk, but shes a snug fit. Lifting the lid in glee, I start planning where I will put my pencil case and in what order I will stack my books.
But wait. Something doesnt feel right. Nothing is digging into my back.
I turn. Where I expect to see a plastic shell riveted on to a stiff metal frame in some semblance of a backrest, there is, in fact, a backrest.
Soft plastic. With holey bits in the middle for aeration. Ergonomic chairs? No way.
I return my attention to my five neighbours and a conversation ensues about what we did in the holidays. It turns out they had waaaaay more fun than me. Lucy learned to waterski, Zoe went to the circus and Tim got some shiny new shoes. I worked.
Room 7, another class of Year 7s, soon joins us. Miss Wallace introduces herself and says I can call her Janey, but I prefer Miss Wallace.
She and Miss B show us a YouTube clip on a big screen, then a movie they made, and finish with a PowerPoint presentation about the year ahead. We run into technical trouble at one stage when the video wont work. A young voice from the back of the class suggests Miss Wallace select all the clips she wishes to play then do a fiddly thing here and a quick click there and a restart from the title screen, and voila, were back in business. Things have certainly changed since my day.
Soon, playtime rolls around. I try to swap my ham sandwich for some Cheezels in the schoolyard but it doesnt fly. Hmmm, perhaps things havent changed since my day.
I then get in a little trouble for forgetting to bring to school a wide-brimmed sun hat, and for a moment it looks like Ill be put in the sinbin outside Room 16. Luckily, Miss Wallace scrounges up a spare sun hat and after eating I take to the field.
Walking across to the confidence course with my new friend Zoe I am tackled to the ground by Alex, Ryan and Lucy, who tell me I need a noogie since Im the new kid. Opting out of this initiation, I scarper away to the confidence course, where I claim political asylum.
Following interval, were back in the classroom and working on name pages for our cubby holes. Storm is an excellent drawer and is sketching a yacht that is reflected in a pool of water. Draw an owl, someone says. So she does. And it is awesome.
And I wonder if I will ever be able to draw an owl that well.
It is now almost time to get our stationery, but before that we get into groups and rank the items of stationery by perceived importance.
In my group, Monty reckons compasses are important because compass is a cool word, but dislikes red pens because red is an evil colour.
Laura says the draftbook is pretty important because its where all our fantasies happen. Smiling pleasantly, I make a mental note to buy a draftbook. Or three.
So, I ask my new friends, what are the key issues when returning to school? Zoes response is typical of most children.
I just wanted to be with a good teacher, and to be with my friends. Alex agrees, and says he is glad to be in Miss Bs class because shes nice and shes sporty %26mdash; she always takes us for games.
Im told the more exciting aspects of Day 1 include getting stationery and finding out what the class will be doing in 2008.
This year promises to be a fun one for this class; planned activities include sailing, movie-making, school camp, woodwork and metalwork, and boatbuilding.
Im astonished to hear my classmates will be able to earn credits throughout the year for doing good work.
When pupils get 50 credits they are given a credit card, which can be used to buy rewards, like wearing hats inside or sitting beside friends for the day. I wonder whether my editor would entertain the thought of implementing a similar scheme.
Pretty soon 12.15pm rolls round.
Assembly time. We walk in pairs to the hall, where I fall in to the wrong line because of my failure to differentiate between little and littler people. Chaos reigns for a moment until Miss B straightens us out to a chorus of Will got told off! Will got told off! Into the assembly hall we go, where I stupidly elect to sit on the floor with 370 other pupils, teachers and children looking on in surprise.
Any who had not noticed my presence do so when principal Robin Harris spots my head poking up from the masses and points me out as the new boy. My humiliation not yet complete, Mr Harris asks all the new pupils to stand, and I soon have a gaggle of google-eyed children staring at me in disbelief. Smiling pleasantly, I turn beet red.
Lunchtime. After a quick caffeine hit in the staffroom I take to the playground for a little cricket. Me and my new friends play with a hard ball and I feel all grown up.
James is really, really, really good.
Following lunch, were back into the class for a DVD on the big screen about the Treaty of Waitangi.
As the presentation rolls I look around the room. For all that is modern %26mdash; the computers, the YouTube, the spacey chairs, the projector, the big-brother-like intercom %26mdash; this classroom of new still has the colour and energy and innocence of the school days I remember. Kids still worry about whether they can make the transition from pencil to pen. They still get excited when told theyll be getting their own calculators this year. And they still sit enthralled as theyre told about school camp. Its oddly reassuring.
The DVD ends, and with it, my nostalgia trip. Were now put into groups to create a play about the Treaty of Waitangi. I team myself up with seven others, including two other Arrowtown newbies, Madison, from Auckland, and Sidney, from Canada. Madison is really enjoying her first day at the school. Its cool making new friends, she says.
Now Ive got some in Auckland and some in Queenstown. She hung out with five others at lunch and appears well on her way to making friends.
Sidney seems tired, and a little confused by the treaty, but says she likes Arrowtown School. Zoe invites Sidney to her birthday party at the weekend and is rewarded with a weary yes. I sit waiting for my invite, thinking of all the Christmas presents I need to re-gift, but it never comes.
The play is a major undertaking.
There are four groups and each is to act out a part of the treaty negotiation and signing. Our group is asked to re-create the day of the signing.
My efforts to help allocate roles in my team are tempered as I am stabbed by a warring group with their bamboo spears. Smiling pleasantly, I want to kill them.
Eventually we manage to decide well need a Hone Heke, a Governor William Hobson and a whole host of missionaries and chiefs. The next steps are working out a plot for the play, writing a script and designing some newspaper costumes.
Tragically, its now getting on for 3pm, and the end of my day. I say goodbye to my new friends and head for the car. Tomorrow they will perform our skit for the junior school. I dont know if theyll miss me at the performance, but Ill sure miss them.
School rocks.
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Friday, February 22nd, 2008 at 1:30 am under