Our weekly opinion pieces are written by North Queensland Register journalists. The thoughts expressed are their own.
As Queensland kiddies returned to the classroom this week it got me reflecting on my time spent in the schoolyard.
To say I received a bit of a culture shock when I first moved to Australia would be an understatement.
Zimbabwean and Australian schools are so incredibly different.
For starters, it is very common for Zimbo farm kids to attend boarding school from age five; and usually stay at the same school from grade one all the way through to grade 12.
The photo on the left is my older sister Tara and I on my very first day of boarding school. We were weekly boarders at Lomagundi College in the town of Chinhoyi, which was about a four-hour round trip from our farm.
There I was sitting in the back of our bakkie (African for ute), on top of my ginormous school trunk with hand painted initials, wearing a uniform one size too big, driving out our farm gate feeling very apprehensive. My face in that photo says it all.
I will never forget on my first day of school my cousin and I got confused about the break times and wandered over to the boarding hostel for morning tea.
Little did we know there was a set 'play time' and when our teacher couldn't find us in the playground, she thought we had gone missing.
There we were naively sitting outside on the dining hall steps waiting for our tea and strawberry jam sandwiches, while the rest of the school was organising a search party.
I recently spent some time at the Cairns School of Distance Education and was so fascinated to learn more about school of the air.
What an experience to receive an education not only theoretically in the books, but practically living on the land.
Much like my first day of school, I cannot even begin to imagine all the stories people must have out there.
Which leads me to my next question; whether you were (or currently are) a govvie working out on a station or rolled out of bed each morning to park off at the HF radio, I'd love to hear more of your cracking school tales.
No story is ever to small and I can guarantee other North Queensland Register readers would appreciate a trip down memory lane. As always, you know where to find me.
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