Will the girl from the broken home please go to the General Office

"There are several reasons why The Mac.Robertson Girls' High School has earned a reputation for excellence in the education of girls - a reputation it has enjoyed for over 60 years. First and foremost, it is the students - girls who are highly self motivated and who share a common commitment to academic success and personal achievement. The student community is marked by a wealth of talent, a rich and varied cultural and social mix and a spirit of acceptance and mutual respect "
From The MacRobinson Girls' High School website

"This section of our website will be launched in 2001."
From MacRobinson Girls' High School Website - Staff Section, February 2002

Many moons ago I attended a prestigious government high school in Melbourne, Australia. Renowned for its academic excellence, entrance to this school was subject to excellent performance in an entrance exam, as well as the girl's previous attendance at a "feeder" middle school in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne.

My mother, a single mother earning less than a male in the same job, in pre-women's lib, pre-Whitlam Australia, saved every penny she could, in order to rent half-a-house in a "feeder area".

I have to admit, the teaching was excellent, and stood me in good stead for later life. The school taught us, that as girls, we had to strive for independence and careers, aims not the norm in those dark days.

But it was not a happy time. The rules of the school were strict and apart from the surprising 'feminist" attitude towards the education of young women, archaic even then.

We had to wear hats and gloves when travelling to and from school. Socks had to be tucked neatly around ankles. Hair could be worn no longer than collar length. Even our gym uniforms had to be no shorter than 8" above the knees, when kneeling. And eating in public was the sin of all sins.

I vividly remember one day, when an ex-Macrob "girl", a woman who appeared to me to be at least 100 (though on reflection was probably about 50), phoned the school to report that "A girl in MacRob uniform was seen [by her], eating a pie on the number 61 tram".

All those who travelled that route were called into the assembly hall for a line-up. The elderly be-hatted woman perused each and every one of us carefully. Unable to identify the culprit we were released back to our classromms to conjugate Latin verbs.

The "progressiveness" of MacRob ended with its advanced-for the-times feminist attitude to girls and higher education. I remember one day, sitting in a history class, trying to understand why Luther was compelled to post 95 theses on indulgences on the church door at Wittenberg, being jolted back from the Reformation, to hear an announcement blaring from the PA. "Will the girl from the broken home please come to the General Office".

I am not a blushing person, but I remember blushing then, as I rose and requested permission to leave the room. And yes, it WAS me. The only one in those days of Middle Australia, whose parents had had the guts to divorce.

So what's all this got to do with New York? Nothing much; but I frequently remember the pie incident and the PA announcement when, forty years later, I walk down 86th Street, Manhattan, trying to make my way to work.

In a busy street, where lovers must separate and walk single file to make their way through the throng, oblivious school kids walk four-abreast, causing even the very elderly to have to move out of their way, stepping into the gutter, in order not to be crushed or knocked aside, by a generation who believes it owns the sidewalks, if not the world.

After struggling to the bus stop, the indignity continues. Having worked and paid taxes in three three continents, I am forced to stand, as East Side mothers plonk DNKY-dressed toddlers onto the few remaining seats. These besotted bearers of the next generation, look with endearment as their child puts his well-shod but dirty feet on the seat.

Meanwhile, weary men and women stand, strap-hanging and bumping into each other as the bus makes its lurching journey down Second Avenue.

Like the insensitive dog-owners whose dogs bail you up in the elevators of this city, the parents are unaware of how the weary commuters regard their privileged offspring. A glance of annoyance at the child only results in a returned look by the parent of - "Isn't he cute?" Like the dog owners who say, "He doesn't bite". Ignoring the fact that there are people around who don't exactly appreciate sharing an crowded elevator with a Great Dane after 11 hours in the office...

So I smile to myself when the kids bump into me on 86th street, or when the two-year-old takes what scould be MY seat on the bus on Second Avenue. I think of the behatted-lady and the MacRob line-up. Of the PA announcement. OF kneeling with the rest of the girls as the gym mistress measured the distance between our skirt hems and the floor. Of congugating Latin verbs with my socks folded down around my ankles.

And I wonder then, what the principal of the New York City school of 2002 would say if I complained of the unruliness and rudeness of its pupils. Or the pre-school board if I complained about the toddlers.

The one consolation I have is that I'll be long dead, when the two-year old seat-grabbers rule this world. When the pushing and shoving teenagers of the schools of the Upper East Side become adults and politicians involved in peace initiatives.

It's enough to make a confirmed atheist look forward to the life here-after.

Kate Juliff
New York
February 2002

Your Say

jb
just found this website - i think both of your negative articles that i have just read result from the fact that you live in the upper east side and come from Melbourne (ok - that was little mean...) .........anyway i know nyc life can be tough but it seems you are overly critical. i love this place (usually). try to cheer up. i've met some great people here and have had great times. Australia, no doubt, is an amazing country as well. just different.

yet, the fact you are buying an apartment here means that you some like some aspects of this place - but reading your article i would never know what they are....

anyway back to work for me ....

also this is the first "reply to the editor" type note i have written - it must mean that i am getting older.....

Of course I love the place. The articles are tongue in cheek. Read a few more before you get TOO old!