Narma Woodards

At first, when commercial subjects were introduced in the technical schools classes were not very large. I travelled between Thebarton Girls and Croydon Girls each day, being allowed half an hour extra to my lunch hour. Very few staff members had cars, so I went by tram to Adelaide and by train to Croydon for the afternoon sessions. One had to step out quite briskly.

While at Croydon I became more and more keen to introduce a class for slow learners. Lyn Burford, a brilliant scholar and a dedicated teacher at any level, was keen to help in this area. She was able to extract quite good written work from children who had seldom written more than a few lines. We wanted to take 20 girls as a class and give them individual attention. Most of them were hyperactive and had been unsuccessful at first year level. Some were aggressive and others passive. We agreed that we had to build up their self image and give them some pride, and a desire to achieve. We were not going to accept work that was below what they could achieve. Various staff members were conned into coming to the door to ask if I had some one reliable to take a message from A to B.

I would say grandly, ‘I have a room full of totally reliable messengers, who will not loiter on the way and are eager to help.’ Whoever was chosen would race off and come panting back with a sensible answer. They really became extremely sensible and reliable. Their written work improved and they began to take pride in their appearance and they helped each other. I was astounded at the improvement in their written work and delighted with their typing. Their whole attitude to school work changed and they became co-operative with teachers and friendly and supportive with each other. They looked better because they were better, even their parents said that life at home was easier. We gave them praise for effort and tried to be tactful when things went wrong. Eventually they would sort out their mistakes and offer suggestions as to how to avoid these in the future. I felt we had made a success of the work because we ended up with a friendly co-operative class doing quite good work with a great deal of pride.

At Unley the commercial classes were held in a cottage on Unley Road now occupied by Alfred James the Funeral Directors. At the front of the cottage were two small rooms – a senior class room and a staff room. Behind these was a large classroom probably made by knocking two rooms into one. Not an ideal teaching area as the blackboard did not extend right across the front wall. The backyard was unpaved and became a quagmire during the wet winter days, making it very difficult to paddle to the two toilets which were separate from the cottage. One very wet winter the water came over our ankles. I complained of this and Miss Tapp came post haste to check, and promptly organised someone to take photos of our little lake, so that she could send the prints to the Education Department in support of her claims that ‘something must be done urgently.’ Meanwhile we padded down to the public toilets at the back of the little gardens opposite. Eventually some upgrading was done. Staff and students had to move between the main school and the commercial house for general subjects and dressmaking and art classes and we had to check that students did not get ‘lost in transit’.

While I was teaching commercial subjects I had many friends in various offices. At first they were not keen to offer jobs to girls who had not come from business colleges but I more or less blackmailed them into it. I tried to match employer and employee personalities and this proved very successful. Some were prepared to take less able students if they were reliable, and this too proved very successful as we had repeated requests for ‘another one just as good as the last.’

Apart from teaching the basics we broke the monotony of work by ‘serving tea to the Managing Director’ – never anyone as inferior as ‘the Boss’. At first everyone wanted to put four teaspoons of sugar into the cup for him, but that was soon settled as well as not having slops in the saucer. I also made girls make their own typing dictionary, where they kept various sized papers and typed letters on suitable sized paper. As well we made a list of customers, their addresses and how to spell the names. They found this very helpful when they gained employment.

I had a hand in constructing commercial syllabuses. I was concerned that the subjects would provide the students with the ability to adjust to life in an office and adapt themselves to the needs of their particular work place. Of course we wanted them to be capable of handling various machines, keeping commercial records, coping with fellow workers and the public. They needed shorthand speeds, an ability to spell or, at least, consult a dictionary. We tried to train them in tactful response to criticism and to remain courteous if they felt they were being treated unfairly, but to be firm in their beliefs. A lot of their knowledge came from books, but they had to adjust to particular office conditions and people. We tried to teach them how to cope with examination conditions and work under stress. The syllabuses were subject to quite a lot of criticism from authorities as well as other teachers before they were accepted.

As well as open days we had school sports days and the big combined Girls Technical School sports day on Adelaide Oval. These were very well organised and gave the girls a chance to meet and talk with other students. There were also memorable Royal Visits with demonstrations on the Adelaide Oval.

During the 1939 – 45 World War the technical schools flung themselves into the war effort with great enthusiasm. We knitted socks – everyone wanted to knit ‘socks for soldiers’ but very few knew how to ‘turn the heel’ and loud were the lamentations. Fortunately Miss Adelaide Miethke brought out a good knitting book containing a spiral sock, and this must have reduced the number of crippled feet in the Forces. As well as knitting we collected paper and metal. I have often wondered where two girls found a perfectly good metal gate as they staggered in with it, giggling madly. They swore it was not stolen and I think they were honest.

As part of the paper collection we had to take it in turns to go in on a Saturday, all day, to help ‘sort it.’ We took that in turns and turns came round all too frequently. The premises were dirty and so was the only toilet. There were a number of teen-age boys employed, so there was much giggling as well as a lot of hard work. Then one had to round up the squad to see that they all returned home safely. It was really quite an exhausting day, but I think it made the students realise that all jobs were not just a way to earn a living easily.

As tea and sugar were rationed we were all happy to receive a few coupons for school tea, or buy some tea and sugar from coupon-wealthy large families, for the staff room. Materials and clothing were rationed too and, as blankets were coupon free, they were made up into quite smart coats in the dressmaking rooms.

One of the nastiest experiences we had was at Thebarton. We had a class on the open balcony and, suddenly, a flight of planes came screaming through the sky, seemingly aiming straight for us. It was a very long three minutes, and we all realised how people were feeling in the war zone.

At Nailsworth we had trenches dug on a vacant area some distance from the school and on air raid practice days both boys and girls school students had to go to take refuge in this area. The head mistress and I remained in a cubby hole under the stairs with all the school registers. I don’t know which was worse – listening to the HM’s lamentations or trying to round up several hundred boys and girls and herd them back to school.

On VP Day we had a very happy service of thanksgiving at the school. This was led by a delightful missionary, Miss Vawser, who had been sent back from overseas due to ill health. We had some prayers and songs of thanksgiving and went our light-hearted way home. Adelaide was a mad-house – everyone embracing people they met, Balfours’ vans driving round with employees throwing pies and pasties to the public, strangers embracing each other with tears in their eyes, music and song.

When I was there Croydon was a magnificent new building with enormous areas of large glass windows which, unfortunately, seemed to be wrongly oriented and, during the summer, the glare and heat were almost unbearable. During my first summer at Croydon I would sometimes take my tests to mark into the book room with its cement floor and lack of windows. There I would take off my shoes and quietly do my marking as I rubbed my feet over the cold floor.

I was very surprised to find that none of the girls in my class had ever been to Adelaide. With excellent shopping on the Port Road I suppose there was no need. When the Arndale Shopping centre was built on Torrens Road it became a mecca for students of both the boys’ and the girls’ tech schools. At lunch times they sneaked out by various gates and took off for Arndale. Prefects were in tears, teachers tore their hair and spoke seriously to the culprits who tried to look repentant, but still they went. So the staff just had to take it in turns to drive up there to round up the ‘sinners’ and bring them back. The fever eventually became less but it had affected every school in the area.

I think the technical schools mirrored the personalities of the head mistresses in charge. They were all different and all dedicated. In the 1930s I first remember Miss Al Rosman, who was at Croydon when they were extending the building. She had a rather endearing way of ‘bronchial coughing and throat clearing’ as she made her way round the building – a sort of warning. She was very approachable. She was also famous for her hats. We all awaited her ‘Open Day hat’ with great interest and she never let us down. They were always magnificent creations.

Miss Rosman always retired to her office in lunch hours and rested on a cane lounge behind a shut door, but emerged full of vigour as soon as school recommenced. Additions were being made to the school and she bought framed prints for the classrooms and was heard to remark, ‘Ten shillings and only one boat in the picture.’ She knew her staff and what they were doing, was approachable and helpful and well-liked. We all watched for her new and magnificent hats for special occasions.

Miss Margaret Murphy was head of Norwood when I was there. Small, exquisitely neat, she visited every room daily and missed nothing. She had quite a sense of humour and she knew what she wanted from us and saw that she got it. I was there from 1951 so Margaret Heitman says.

Miss Lynda Tapp, at Unley, was an ‘instant action lady’, highly intelligent and a ball of energy. She could organise anything within minutes. A very warm-heated lady. She was highly active and volcanic and intelligent. She got things done. I liked her very much. When she was trying to control her impatience her skin would go fiery white. If I went to the office and saw that, I would retreat very rapidly saying, ‘I can see you are busy.’ When the crisis was over she would always come to the commercial school and say, ‘I’m not busy now’ and find out what was needed. Miss Zillah Maschmedt followed Miss Tapp at Unley, a good organiser and well loved by staff.

Miss Zena Williams, first at Croydon and then at Thebarton came from a country high school. She was very religious and usually began the school year by calling us into her office saying, ‘Let us pray.’ This was rather a shock to newcomers.

In the 1930s at Nailsworth Miss Jessie Cooper had been very dominant and expected obedience from all. Mrs Margie Ward, the last headmistress of Nailsworth Girls Technical High School, was an art lover and the school had some beautiful paintings. They were just a few of the women who built the reputation of the technical schools which, I think, filled a need in our education system.

It is difficult to imagine the success of the technical schools without the help of the wonderful parents. ‘Dad’ very often joined the school council. ‘Mum’ belonged to the mothers’ club, helped at the canteen, baked goodies for fund raising and saved out of the housekeeping for materials necessary for dressmaking, needlework and craftwork. They were wonderfully cheerful and supportive. They came in droves to our open days and were full of admiration for the work on display. They were also supportive when serious problems of discipline arose. Not that discipline was a problem in those days.

During the days of the Depression we kept a storeroom of second hand clothing given by parents so that we could pass garments on to students who were in need. It was all done very tactfully and everyone seemed grateful for the help. Quite often there would be a small coin left in the pockets or a note saying ‘Good luck.’

As well as helping with clothing for students the parents were willing to help support our various charitable efforts. The students acted as collectors for various charities and held small fund raising efforts at school and sometimes at home. I felt that they were developing a social conscience and would continue to show compassion for others in their later life. They learned to offer help in a tactful and unobtrusive manner.

I have not mentioned the influence of the entry of many European migrants into the technical schools. They came as students and they came as teachers and both they and we had to adjust to the changes. I think their work in art and craft led to a new outlook in this area.

I began this recollection in a lighthearted way and thought you might enjoy this conclusion.

Our girls came in all sorts of sizes

All shapes and colours and creeds.

They were funny and fussy and fresh

They all had their own special needs.

 

They ‘forgot’ when we hoped they’d remember

And remembered those things that we hoped would be lost.

They helped us so much in so many ways

With no thought of what it might cost.

 

We stood by each other and battled

With figures and names and fine seams

We shared lots of knowledge and laughter

As we helped to achieve all their dreams.

 

They are busy today, so they tell us

On Christmas cards, letters and notes,

They must be – they’re mothers and grannies,

‘The best in the world’ is my vote.

Return to contents Buy A Broader Vision	© Erica Jolly and individual authors