early years 1

I am the only one of five boys who made it to Year 12 and completed the Higher School Certificate. I'm not sure why this was the case, since all my brothers could have done so. It was not uncommon for students to leave at the end of Year 9 and Year 10 in those days - perhaps most did - so that is a factor. There were more apprenticeships about then and qualifications for getting into many other jobs, such as banking, did not always require an HSC. Unlike today's increasingly absurd demands for qualification and experience in just about every field or position, young people in the seventies had real options if going on in education didn't suit or appeal to them.

For my brothers, that was far from the whole story, because, despite our nice middle class surrounds, we were one of the (few) families in our neighbourhood who were openly dysfunctional. An alcoholic, depressive and frequently suicidal father brought out different responses in all of us, though broadly they fell into three categories - flight, rebellion or repression. It's hard to say how things might have been different if not for our father's collapse, but they certainly would have been. Boys especially need to look up to a father who, at the very least, is in control of himself, if not his circumstances. It's more common now - men not being in control nor taking responsibility, so it's little wonder we see problems with many young people.

And there were no counselling options in those days, or none that we knew of. It was a case of getting on with it, stiff upper lip, as the Poms call it. That doesn't mean that there wasn't kindness. We had lots of help from neighbours - boxes of clothes, food parcels and the like. Sometimes kindness came from the most unlikely quarters. I remember one occasion when I was in Year 10 when I was summoned to the inner sanctum of the most high leader, Alan Myers. Mr Myers was our (deeply feared) Principal - a man of the old school. Small, tough and terrifying. I don't recall what the matter was about (I'm guessing that it concerned my father's first suicide attempt), but Mr Myers handed his office over to me so I could take that phone call in private. That was kindness.