The value of rules and other lessons from my days in pigtails

THIS year marks the centenary of my school's alumni association. To celebrate the event, a lunch was held at the school and quite a few old girls -- we don't mind this title -- trotted along to eat, drink and catch up with old chums.

Both my grandmother and mother had attended the school. And perhaps because I am used to public speaking, I was given the privilege of making the speech. My two sisters and mother were in the audience, so I was under a bit of pressure. I opted for "brief and funny", focusing on my recollections of my time at the school.

When I was at school, there were lots and lots of rules about standards of behaviour and appearance. If a teacher -- in fact, anyone older than us -- entered a room, we would stand up. We were taught to look people in the eye, to address them using an appropriate title and to speak clearly and concisely.

If we were outside the school premises on a school day, we were expected to be dressed in full uniform, complete with blazer. We were not permitted to purchase food outside the school. Eating in the street was strictly forbidden. When it came to the rules related to appearance, the list was never-ending. Hats in summer, berets in winter, short socks in summer, long socks in winter, long hair tied back in ribbons, gloves, length of skirt -- the rules went on and on.

Before and after school, the prefects would "man" the school gates and check to make sure we were meeting all the rules. (It was very easy to lose a glove, I found.) Repeated infringements led to after-school detention.

It all seems a bit silly from this distance, but I actually think there was some point to all these rules. The clear message was that standards mattered and that attention to detail was required.

Our teachers were something of a mixed bag. My first French teacher really didn't know much French and regularly addressed me by my mother's name -- she had taught her 30 years before. We had another language teacher who could speak seven languages, but we were never sure which particular language she was speaking at any point. But there were some real stars who inspired us and expected us to work hard. One of my teachers, who had a degree in commerce, encouraged my interest in economics, even though it was not offered as a separate subject at the school. We learned to belt out The Marseillaise and enjoy chocolate mousse, courtesy of our exceptional senior French teacher. Our Latin and history teachers were also outstanding.

During our middle school years (years 6 and 7), there were daily spelling and mental arithmetic tests. For many years we would go around the classroom parsing slabs of text. We all knew our nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, infinitives, past participles and the like.

We learned to recite chunks of the Bible by heart, even though the school was not affiliated with any particular religion. Biannual exams were part of the routine from Year 8. External exams were sat in Year 11 (leaving) and Year 12 (matriculation). These were years in which promoting the self-esteem of students was not seen as a central role for any school. Students were regularly "kept down" -- made to repeat the year -- if they had not met the educational expectations of the year level.

School reports were sometimes brutal, but honest. We were marked in terms of level of achievement and attitude for each subject. The headmistress regarded A- as the worst mark we could receive.

The house system was an integral feature of the school. There were four and we felt very strong ties to the house to which we belonged. Within the house, girls of quite different ages combined and co-operated. We competed fiercely with the other houses on the sports field and on the stage. Being awarded top house for the year was regarded as an important goal for everyone. The house flags would be ceremoniously placed in order at the final assembly and the girls from the winning house would scream with joy.

Parents were largely absent from our school life. Once a year, there was open day during which parents and grandparents would visit the school. The rest of the time the school was regarded as closed. This did not mean that parents were not interested in our education, just that interference was not welcomed by the school.

On a day-to-day basis, the students fought their own battles, dealt with the requirements set by the teachers and accepted the punishments meted out. We formed strong bonds of friendship and mutual support. We knew that we were lucky to be attending our school. A lot of laughing went on, pranks were played and no one took themselves too seriously. Of course, if anyone did, she would be soon cut down to size. Even so, academic, sporting and musical achievements were highly regarded by the students. I would be the first to admit, however, that the school did not suit every girl.

There is no doubt that schools have changed dramatically since my days in pigtails. In fact, I could barely recognise my school when I rocked up for the lunch -- so many new buildings, such amazing facilities.

When I started at school, our classrooms were in the old farm buildings that had been part of the original property.

But there are some valuable lessons from my school education and most of them don't cost money. Rules of behaviour and standards do matter. A rigorous curriculum, constant assessment and frank feedback are all sensible elements of a quality school education. And go Mitchell, the best house of all!