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May. 1st, 2010 12:43 pmMy thoughts have recently turned to the geography of my primary school cohort and how it affected playground politics.
The politics and geography fitted the map of the sixties a bit, but not quite exactly. There was the Greek Australian mob, led by a girl who had a very solid self-opinion. There was the Macedonian Australian mob, quite small but adamantly not Greek. The Greek Australian kids said rude things about them and they said rude things back. It got worse sometimes, but not often. The Greek Australians were stronger, after all, our school being firmly in 60s Greek Melbourne. Kids identifying as Macedonian had to fight for their identity, not least because there was no 'Macedonia' on a map and the teachers didn't understand the playground politics.
Then there was the Italian Australian mob. Occasionally they would ally with the Greek Australians, but mostly not. The Italian Australian girls were also led by someone with a very solid self-opinion. I paid for those self-opinions, bigtime, but that's different story.
The group who could go anywhere and do anything were the Anglo Australians. In theory I was in their number.
My Jewishness was the deciding factor. Only a few individuals could deal with it, and they dealt much better out of school than in school largely because of those playground politics. In class I was fine, because we had good teachers. Often I was not given my choice of seat, but put next to someone who was unsettled or or had too little English to follow things. My desk companion in Grade 4, for instance, was dead bored with school and I infected her with my love of Christina Rossetti because I overflowed with it and I'm the sort of person who, when she overflows with something, simply has to share. Clever teacher we had in Grade 4 - Hungarian Australian, to keep the backgrounds clear - I owe Mr Remenyi a lot for introducing me to poetry and teaching me a good way of sewing on buttons. He didn't let cultural groupings divide the classroom and he controlled them without any of us knowing they were being controlled.
Our Grades 5 and 6 teachers were more frustrated. The playground stuff was being brought into the classroom on a regular basis by then (since we were older, around 9-11), and it was a much harder job. Also, I finally had glasses. This meant I didn't have to piece together the lesson by ear and looking at my deskfriend's notes. This meant I was bored. Nothing to do with ethnic/religious background. Everything to do with me suddenly proving a bit brighter than the school had thought. It changed the dynamics of the classroom, too, because a few children who were certain of their brilliance had to deal with someone who found the work easy but was certain of her slowness.
My newly acquired ease of understanding affected the playground politics. It's when I was told I had personally killed Christ and was dirty. I heard a very wide range of Jewish jokes at that point. The brightest and most leaderly of the Greek Australian girls suddenly was worried about my being Jewish and told all her friends what her family said about people like me. I wasn't allowed to play skippy, or jump elastics or join in any game with them at recess or lunchtime.
I've talked about why I was alone, but there were three of us who were more alone than the others in those final two years of primary school: a boy who was Chinese Australian (family came out in the goldrush), an Indigenous boy who was only there for a term, and me. What I haven't said that that the boy/girl divide was bigger than the various other divides. We didn't know how to be there for each other. I often wonder what happened to the other two. I know what happened to me. At least, I think I do.
The playground politics weren't the whole story. Our year still shared a class identity. We had more in common than we had differences. I would be happy to catch up on any but one of our whole cohort. They were good kids and I bet they've all turned into fine and upstanding adults. I'm curious to know how they dealt with the playground politics and how their view of that playground is different to mine. That's all though. I don't want to live it again.
PS I remember almost everyone's names, but if I'm 49 then they are too, since I was one of the youngest (the kids who were younger than me had skipped a year). Avoiding names means that a modicum of privacy is preserved.
The politics and geography fitted the map of the sixties a bit, but not quite exactly. There was the Greek Australian mob, led by a girl who had a very solid self-opinion. There was the Macedonian Australian mob, quite small but adamantly not Greek. The Greek Australian kids said rude things about them and they said rude things back. It got worse sometimes, but not often. The Greek Australians were stronger, after all, our school being firmly in 60s Greek Melbourne. Kids identifying as Macedonian had to fight for their identity, not least because there was no 'Macedonia' on a map and the teachers didn't understand the playground politics.
Then there was the Italian Australian mob. Occasionally they would ally with the Greek Australians, but mostly not. The Italian Australian girls were also led by someone with a very solid self-opinion. I paid for those self-opinions, bigtime, but that's different story.
The group who could go anywhere and do anything were the Anglo Australians. In theory I was in their number.
My Jewishness was the deciding factor. Only a few individuals could deal with it, and they dealt much better out of school than in school largely because of those playground politics. In class I was fine, because we had good teachers. Often I was not given my choice of seat, but put next to someone who was unsettled or or had too little English to follow things. My desk companion in Grade 4, for instance, was dead bored with school and I infected her with my love of Christina Rossetti because I overflowed with it and I'm the sort of person who, when she overflows with something, simply has to share. Clever teacher we had in Grade 4 - Hungarian Australian, to keep the backgrounds clear - I owe Mr Remenyi a lot for introducing me to poetry and teaching me a good way of sewing on buttons. He didn't let cultural groupings divide the classroom and he controlled them without any of us knowing they were being controlled.
Our Grades 5 and 6 teachers were more frustrated. The playground stuff was being brought into the classroom on a regular basis by then (since we were older, around 9-11), and it was a much harder job. Also, I finally had glasses. This meant I didn't have to piece together the lesson by ear and looking at my deskfriend's notes. This meant I was bored. Nothing to do with ethnic/religious background. Everything to do with me suddenly proving a bit brighter than the school had thought. It changed the dynamics of the classroom, too, because a few children who were certain of their brilliance had to deal with someone who found the work easy but was certain of her slowness.
My newly acquired ease of understanding affected the playground politics. It's when I was told I had personally killed Christ and was dirty. I heard a very wide range of Jewish jokes at that point. The brightest and most leaderly of the Greek Australian girls suddenly was worried about my being Jewish and told all her friends what her family said about people like me. I wasn't allowed to play skippy, or jump elastics or join in any game with them at recess or lunchtime.
I've talked about why I was alone, but there were three of us who were more alone than the others in those final two years of primary school: a boy who was Chinese Australian (family came out in the goldrush), an Indigenous boy who was only there for a term, and me. What I haven't said that that the boy/girl divide was bigger than the various other divides. We didn't know how to be there for each other. I often wonder what happened to the other two. I know what happened to me. At least, I think I do.
The playground politics weren't the whole story. Our year still shared a class identity. We had more in common than we had differences. I would be happy to catch up on any but one of our whole cohort. They were good kids and I bet they've all turned into fine and upstanding adults. I'm curious to know how they dealt with the playground politics and how their view of that playground is different to mine. That's all though. I don't want to live it again.
PS I remember almost everyone's names, but if I'm 49 then they are too, since I was one of the youngest (the kids who were younger than me had skipped a year). Avoiding names means that a modicum of privacy is preserved.