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The shelter sheds also provided cover on wet days, but they were inadequate for the number of children, and they were smelly, sticky and uncomfortable.3 In conformity with the morality of the time, a low fence divided the playground into separate sectors for boys and girls. Seen on a rough outline plan of the school dating to 1908, the fence divided the school between the corner of the building and the wash-house along the rear boundary. Although the fence was dismantled in the early 1920s, an imaginary line still separated the sexes. Children caught on the wrong side of the fence or imaginary line were punished, although talking across the border was permitted.4 Fortunately, children are enterprising creatures. The students ingeniously manipulated, shared and enjoyed the ‘pocket-handkerchief sized playground’. Interweaving, dodging bodies, exasperated abuse, victorious war cries, frustration, anger, joy, quiet solace, abraded knees, broken bones and bruised egos filled the cramped asphalt quadrangle as groups vied for space, consciously and unconsciously pushing neighbours aside, and games cut across each other. The discipline, duty, loyalty and moral behaviour extolled by Pearson were unwitting nurtured on the tiny Arnold Street playing fields. The recreation hours were filled with basketball, hoppy, skippy, diabolo, gymnastics on the Princes Park fence rail, ‘what’s the time, Mr Wolf’, marbles, jacks, hopscotch, chasings, hide and seek, tunnel ball, rounders, marbles, keeping-off, British bulldogs, tag, crack the whip, fly, saddle the nag, cherry bobs, card flicking, hand cricket, ‘three goals in’ (with rolled newspaper or rag-stuffed socks). Some of the teachers on yard duty, such as Miss Walker or Miss Miller, would occasionally turn the skipping rope, and even skip with the girls. Bullies and gangs prowled darker corners seeking victims to intimidate. ‘Adult’ high school students had other distractions. Some attached themselves to teachers such as Emile Hamer, who impressed and inspired them with his enthusiasm and wide learning. Others sought the satisfaction of sport; others supplemented their pocket-money by gambling, or amused themselves in dimly lit, acrid, tobacco-smelling pool halls. Others became embroiled in romances - students with students, students with teachers; some of these attachments turned into long-term relationships, but most provided an ephemeral chance for social interaction and, occasionally, sexual adventure.
A view of the Arnold Street building in 1903, before the north wing of the building was added. The wide open space opposite the school was used as a playground.
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Fundraising was not the only way that the wars touched the students of Princes Hill. Fathers, brothers and ex-students left for war.64 During the First World War, Doris’s thirteen-year-old brother disappeared, to be found some days later at Broadmeadows army barracks. Les Furney was an early casualty at Gallipoli.65 Ray Aarons, who had joined the Royal Navy in 1938, spent the war at sea. As a member of Special ‘Z’ Commando Unit, he served on the Krait, a little ship active behind enemy lines in sabotage work against Japanese ships. Phil Levy served in the RAAF; Florence Mitchell was a signalwoman on the LHQ heavy wireless; Evelyn Cuthbert joined the WAAF; Anne Haylock’s father, a professional soldier, was seldom stationed in Melbourne. Arthur Sparks, famous for his uninterrupted attendance record, was fatally wounded.66 Teachers left too. Frank McNamara, Eve’s grade 2 teacher, was still a lad when he left. When he returned to visit Princes Hill after the war, he brought his Victoria Cross to show his old students.
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