Maurice R. Ey

Looking back over 42 years of woodwork, it doesn’t seem very long until I start to compare the past with the present in detail.

I got into teaching at the suggestion of my headmaster at Thebarton Boys Technical High School. Prior to this I had been considering journalism. All the formalities were fixed up during the last week of term, and the following year (1941) I was appointed a junior teacher at the school I had attended as a student the year before. Being an ‘instant teacher’ was made a bit easier by having been head prefect. This meant that I had assisted in house activities, particularly on Friday mornings when we had marching contests with the ‘sarge-majors’ being the prefects.

For the first few weeks I learned how to operate the manual Gestetner duplicator which was prone to swallow sheets of paper and masticate them around the inking roller if operated too quickly.

My typing skills were also called upon, but because of staff changes and shortages I was projected into helping with woodwork classes, and took one Intermediate PEB physics. I was well qualified having passed Leaving physics the year before. A fairly long illness put an end to these activities for most of term three.

In February 1942 I began my two year primary course at Adelaide Teachers College. All new students did a fortnight of PE and lifesaving. The latter being done in the old city baths. Course counselling was minimal. As a group, a mixture of prospective primary, secondary and craft students we were told what lectures would be held and when. We were allowed to do only two university subjects, one of which was education, taken by the college Principal, Dr Schulz, – ‘We as teachers have to deal with many different things, namely …’ If you could quote verbatim you passed. We needed only two for our future qualifications in those days. Any individual problems were to be referred to our group lecturer. We couldn’t find many.

An elegant form of torture was thrust upon us every Tuesday morning at Flinders Street Demonstration School. The torture chamber was a kind of tiered room, where the college students sat around the perimeter with a class of 20 – 30 pupils in the centre. Here, their teacher would give a demonstration lesson, after which the college lecturer would evaluate it in an endeavour to see if the aims, preparation, presentation and recapitulation had been satisfactory. Naturally, those in the second year were the most knowledgeable and answered all the questions. After recess (there was none for us, because we were busy discussing the above) the class would reassemble and this time was taught a lesson by a nervous college student. The class would then go back to their home room, while the lecturer and the college students would put the student’s lesson under the microscope, and him through the mincer. When it was your turn to give the ‘criticism lesson’ it occurred on the second Tuesday of a fortnight’s practical teaching. Probably due to the fact that ‘E’ is fairly high in the alphabet I did mine early, and as a consequence missed the first two weeks of university lectures. The class could be a straight grade, or a composite of 1-2-3, 4-5, 6-7, or a class of 1-7 to give practice to those destined to be appointed to one-teacher schools out where the winds start.

I gave my ‘crit lesson’ on the Gift of Prometheus to grades 1-2-3, which didn’t set the world on fire, and left me making only a minor ‘fuel’ of myself. During this two week stint I actually gave one woodwork lesson to grade 6 by special arrangement, when my woodwork aspirations were discovered. It was a ‘Light Woodwork’ lesson. This poor-man’s woodwork was done on a drawing board ‘bench’ which rested on the top of the normal dual primary desk. They did most of the work sitting down, but when it was necessary to stand up the inevitable crash of the seat tipping up rent the air.

The models were real models, scaled down, the intention being that they should get the idea at school and then go home to the farm and show dad how to make the gates, pedestals, clothes-horses, cow bales, deck chairs, card tables, stools, footrests, sign posts and all kinds of equipment. By the adoption of miniature models of the utility type the subject range was practically unlimited.

Where was the specific training for the future manual training instructor? Well, instead of doing sport on Tuesday afternoon; timetabled this way no doubt to enable everyone else to return to normal, we went to the Gilbert Street Woodwork Centre, where under the watchful eye of Archie Peake and his current assistant we made models 1–24.²²

Because I had attended a technical high school and had done woodwork for four years I was granted exemptions from the 24 models. In the course of the Tuesday afternoons (2 pm – 4 pm), I made a kitchen-type stool from New Guinea Softwood, and a nest of drawers for nails and screws from King William Pine. At the end of the year we had to sit for an examination held at the Adelaide High School in Grote Street. This was held on Saturday morning to allow country teachers also gaining qualifications to sit, and covered timber, tools and materials, and was essential for the 111B certificate. Also necessary for this certificate was a string of Art School subjects. (Incidentally at one school I had passed more art subjects than a newly appointed art teacher.) These I had to study (perhaps ‘do’ would be the better term) on four nights and Saturday morning. At the end of 1942 I had all the qualifications needed for the magical 111B.

Early in March 1943, the dearth of teachers became so great that I was offered an appointment to Goodwood Boys Technical School, ‘because I would not need the extra qualifications for many years.’ (In 1940 there was only one senior master.) Somehow I was soft-talked into going to Goodwood, although I later found out that the bond which I had signed on entering Teachers College bound me to a two year course and the department likewise. Because of my shortened college course a new bond was drawn up, making it necessary for me to teach for only two years instead of three without forfeiting money. I don’t know where this money would have come from, because, in spite of a pay rise, our College pay was 18s 6d, ($1.85) a week. At least two sections in the tram to Goodwood cost the equivalent of five cents.

Goodwood Boys Technical School Staff Induction.

Bob Hoare and I waited like two pupils outside the headmaster’s office while he dealt with more important matters, until he had time to welcome us, give us our timetables, and told me, ‘You will be teaching sheetmetal work, and since you have been trained(!) in woodwork Mr Crowe will help you.’

This consisted of me getting to school early and having George Crowe, an ex-tradesman of considerable skill, show me how to make the models currently under production by the students. Frequently I was not the proverbial jump ahead.

Each class came in for a full morning or afternoon, which was divided up into one lesson theory, one lesson drawing, and two lessons practical. The first two were held in ordinary classrooms, and in winter in front of a roaring mallee root fire. Then it was off to an unlined galvanised workshop, which had the benches strategically placed so the dew-drops fell on to the benches and not down the occupants’ necks.

It was in this workshop that I saw my first power machine. Utilising bits and pieces George Crowe made a buffing machine out of an old bench. This was essential because he had a group making copper kettles out of burnt out wash coppers. The sides were still good and he developed a system of removing the soot. The kettles were sold to get money for the Schools Patriotic Fund. (The war was still on.)

Clubs/Extra Activities/Enrichment/Pastoral Care(?)

One lesson a week on Friday mornings we had a club period, during which every teacher had to take a club of some 20 or so boys. As all the ‘plum’ clubs like chess, stamps, gym, film watching were taken, I had the ‘tree recognition club’. I was expected to walk around the school ground, where in the past Frank Dunn had planted a number of specimens of common timber-producing trees, and extol their virtues. It was only a wee bit more exciting than watching grass grow. Near-by parks and one trip to the Botanic Gardens were highlights.

I couldn’t get out of this quickly enough, and began a weekly school newspaper which reported on other club activities. This way I parasitically fed upon the others, generating only reports which were pinned up on the news board before lunch.

I’m not sure just how long I was full time at Goodwood, but before long the teacher shortage became so extreme that I found myself teaching woodwork (woodwork at last!) at Magill Boys Reformatory on Mondays; metalwork at Goodwood on Tuedays; woodwork to the other half of the school students at Magill Reformatory on Wednesdays. Thursday saw me back at Goodwood for another burst of metalwork, and on Friday saw me at Kilburn Primary School (recently renamed from Chicago) teaching woodwork to grade 6 and 7 in a galvanised garage-sized shed having six benches. Each bench had four wooden vices so there was plenty of space for 20 students! The floor was brick. The timber was supplied once a year by the department. King William pine for most models, jarrah or Queensland rosewood for the two gouged projects, Australian oak for a round ruler and mallett handle. The mallett head was four inches by three of jarrah. All timber was off-saw and of appropriate size, with the exception of the six inch by one jarrah and oak, which had to be hand-ripped to size!

Preparation time was a half-day a week if you were in the one school for the whole week; other times by arrangement (for example, one lesson when religious instruction was held). Of course 20 technical jack planes had to be sharpened, often once a week; broken handles replaced, and planes re-mouthed as required. If the planes had seen hard times occasionally they would have to be resoled with a half inch thick piece of myrtle beech and a new mouth cut. All gluing was with hot animal glue heated over a gas ring, or in some cases, a primus stove. If the glue pot boiled dry the smell was a little short of Bolivar on an off day. Incidentally the glue was supplied in sheet form and had to be broken up and soaked overnight. There was no hurrying it, so if you ran out of glue you were stuck! Pearl glue came later.

In lettering all of the students were keen, although not particularly enjoying the production by tee and set square, of a full scale drawing of each model. In G7, one drawing had to be inked in or colour washed.

Students should, in their first year, use set squares and, if necessary, compasses in lettering. In the second year freehand lettering is recommended. Lightly ruled horizontal guide lines equal to the height of the letters should always be used when lettering. Borders were expected to be type (a) line. To attempt to ‘ink in’ a drawing with an ordinary pen was to court disaster.

Teaching in a workshop. Notes were copied down from the black board and written up for homework. One of the greatest gifts a fellow teacher could bestow upon you in those days was a copy of the notes he used for each year. This was virtually a programme of work. Of course no boy was allowed to do woodwork unless he brought with him his clean white apron. Each student paid 3/- (30c) for the supply of drawing paper, pencils, rubbers, set squares and drawing pins. We used to overcome the drawing pin and its attendant problem, (Voice of upset boy, ‘Please sir, Nigel put a drawing pin on my seat.’) by putting washers under gutter bolts, suitably burred over to discourage pilfering, to hold the paper at the top of each drawing board.

After a short stint at Gilbert Street Woodwork Centre and at Norwood Woodwork Centre, there came through the mail one Tuesday morning a letter addressed to the headmaster – Attention Mr Ey, ‘Would you please arrange an appointment at a convenient time, e.g. 4.30 Tuesday to discuss your transfer to Nuriootpa High School,’ signed C.A. Richards A/Inspector Technical schools. There was little discussion. I went. An added incentive was that the Nuriootpa High had a brand new woodwork centre (hidden behind a high cypress hedge). On contacting the headmaster I found I was not wanted on Mondays but was required to teach a country technical school class of adults on Tuesday nights and a special class for school boys in third year who had missed out on woodwork and were unable to have it included in their rigid PEB timetable. This class was on Saturday mornings. Thus I probably was one of the first flexi-time woodwork teachers ever.

Note that the boys were in their Intermediate year, and that the course at the time was ‘Intermediate woodwork’ and counted as a subject on the Intermediate Certificate, but because of the emphasis on academics all boys did their Intermediate woodwork exam at the end of second year.

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