Here Comes Treble: Home From Home
...And so last week, nine years after I left Welties, I returned, as I do every year and sometimes in between, and was immediately drawn into that core, that charmed circle where laughter and fun and friendship reign.
Thank you, Welties, for holding me up, carrying me through – and welcoming me back with open arms...
Isabel Bradley is welcomed in by old friends when she returns to the school where she worked.
Towards the end of each year, my favourite commitment is playing my flute during the Awards Evening at Weltevreden Park Primary School, where I spent fifteen years as School Secretary. I was known variously as “The Wicked Witch of the West”, “The Fire-breathing Dragon”, “The Bar Lady” ,as my office was behind a security grill, or ‘The Sick Lady” when I was on first aid duty.
On December 9, 2009, I wrote about ‘A Glittering Occasion’ describing that year’s ceremony. http://www.openwriting.com/archives/2009/12/_a_glittering_o.php#more This year, if possible, it was even better. The evening ended with the beautiful candle-lit procession of the current year’s prefects, during which the silver-flute-song of Andrew Lloyd-Weber’s ‘Memory’ echoed in the hall, the announcement of the coming year’s prefects and a rousing rendition of the school song to the tune of ‘The Power of the Dream’.
A few moments later, I found myself, in the company of my ex-colleague and good friend, Ivy, heading for the Pavilion and the staff celebration.
This was a year-end function where I could, and did, forget everything. I even forgot to phone Leon and let him know I was going to be late, for which I later felt very guilty. I sat down with a plate of food, a glass in my hand, and gossiped and laughed, feeling more completely relaxed than I had in months.
My job as school secretary was in turn challenging, stressful or routine, but never boring. Because of continuous interaction with children, parents, teachers, other secretaries, other schools, the education department and the general public, it was a wonderful experience. A friend who didn’t know better, remarked, rather deprecatingly, “What a nice little job you have, it’s an absolute sinecure!” The FreeDictionary.com defines a sinecure as ‘a position or office that requires little or no work but provides a salary.’ The salary was minimal, while the work required enormous amounts of ‘blood, sweat and tears’. It was definitely not a sinecure.
The core of Welties staff who remain ensures that new-comers share and enjoy the school’s long-standing ethos of caring for others, commitment to educating the next generation and of doing it all with sincerity and a sense of humour.
While working with them, I discovered that school teachers are often remarkably innocent when it comes to the ways of the outside world. They began their careers as school children themselves; they went from primary to high school to teachers’ training college or university, and then straight back to school as teachers, never leaving the educational environment. Many of the younger teachers at this school spent their own primary school years at Welties, being educated by their older colleagues. This nurturing environment means that teachers never truly ‘grow up’; to some extent they retain an innocence and child-like wonder about life, as well as a frequently childish sense of humour.
Practical jokes abound, causing laughter during even the most stressful day. One morning, Ivy and I were slogging quietly away at year-end work, struggling to meet almost-impossible deadlines, when we heard a Jurassic Park-like clicking of claws coming our way down the newly-tiled passageway. Ivy disappeared, carrying a large, open envelope. The clicking ceased abruptly. As Ivy returned with the sealed, rustling and moving envelope, Herman, a Grade Five teacher, came into the office. “What’s in the envelope?” he asked my grinning friend.
“It’s a Parktown prawn,” she replied. Parktown prawns are large, red-brown mole-crickets which squirt smelly black goo at people who frighten them. The sight of one will raise a shudder or a screaming fit from most women and children and, truth be told, many men as well.
Herman walked over to the intercom on my desk, pressed the combination of numbers to one of the classrooms, and asked Mrs Peterson to please send a child to the office to collect a message. The child arrived, puffing after running down stairs from the classroom. Herman handed the envelope to her and she ran back to class. He switched the intercom to ‘listening’ mode – and we all heard the screams as the Parktown prawn, freed from its envelope, leapt onto Mrs Peterson’s desk and then to the floor. We were later told that Mrs Peterson and all the children leapt too – onto their chairs – as the poor, terrorised insect (shudder) ambled, clicking, out onto the balcony.
After a good laugh at the traumatised class’s expense, Ivy and I returned to work, she with ledgers and accounts, me inputting children’s information to the computer for the coming year. We answered the ever-ringing phones to hear:
“Hallo, is Miss So-and-so available, I have to talk to her about Hailey/Johnnie/Tshepo… Oh, she’s teaching?”
How, I often wondered, could a parent be surprised that a teacher is actually in the classroom teaching?
“Well, could you call her for me please?”
Ummm – sorry, but she’s teaching right now, she’ll call you back if she has time during her break…
So the days went, parents at reception chatting, complaining, occasionally passing on a compliment, children at the window asking for sellotape or clutching a sore tummy while complaining that someone ‘broke their heart’, salesmen, teachers, our supportive headmaster, deputy principals and heads of department, all filling our hours with talk and laughter, drama and excitement in between the drudge of admin work.
Hard work and fun, sympathy and laughter and the unquestioning acceptance of everyone as they were, made Welties a haven to run to when times were bad at home, provided companionship, understanding and healing.
When times were good, it was a place to share the joy. Ten minutes before first break on the morning before I married Leon, I was ushered into one of the back offices, a bridal veil arranged on my head and Lex, our headmaster, walked with me on his arm, down the passageway and into the staffroom, where my friends had provided a marvellous spread in celebration of my coming nuptials. It’s the only time, in three marriages and four weddings, that I’ve worn a veil.
And so last week, nine years after I left Welties, I returned, as I do every year and sometimes in between, and was immediately drawn into that core, that charmed circle where laughter and fun and friendship reign.
Thank you, Welties, for holding me up, carrying me through – and welcoming me back with open arms.
Sometimes, we are fortunate to find a home among people who are as loving a family to us as those who share our blood – and sometimes more so. When such a home and family is found, it should be treasured as a precious gift and enjoyed as often as possible.
Until next time… ‘here comes Treble!’
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By Isabel Bradley
