Grammar Gazette- Issue 2, 2010

B R I S B A N E G I R L S G R A M M A R S C H O O L

JudithHancock came to this school 25 years ago to assume the principalship. She was young, energetic, hard working driven to succeed, courageous, tough, but importantly she had a vision for the future of Grammar girls — for every one of the thousands of girls who have worn this uniform since 1977. And she has led the school through good and bad, thick and thin; through legislative changes and through social change; developed the physical fabric and extended the academic, sporting and extra- curricular programs in nature and in content; encouraged motivated and cajoled the staff; but the girls have always been her primary focus. She has sung with the girls, cried with them, encouraged them disciplined them and inspired them. She has loved the girls and loved this school.

REFLECTIONS ON RETURNING TO GRAMMAR One striking, first impression, given it is lesson change over time, is the assault on the senses of blue and white, of clean hair, ribbons, plaits and pony tails. Also, chatter pushed to hyper speed so it all gets said before arrival at the next class. The other major impact is the multi million dollar physical environment. That spending, the existence of the buildings, landscaping, technology, all announce the schooling of girls is now regarded as important, hallelujah. Clearly a talented fundraiser, or a succession of them, has been at work here and not just on the educational necessities. Charming touches like pergolas near where Mr Timmermans once taught Art in a heavy Dutch accent, testify to a belief there is value in a little luxury, that school doesn’t have to be austere and rigid. Finding familiar classrooms, corridors, bits of ground, ground that was territory, is reassuring. A house has been built in the old car park, but in the middle distance beyond it the lure of the boys’ school remains. There is the corridor outside the headmistress’s office where my peers and I lined up for tuberculosis shots 21 years ago: we have the scars to prove it. There is the classroom where 19 years ago I abandoned maths and with it, any real commitment to numeracy, which seemed like a good idea until I came face to face with the Stock Market’s All Ordinaries Index. There is the stand of trees where 17 years ago I loitered, playing truant, instead of sport, in Year 12, my single act of schoolgirl rebellion. It feels like a more open place, physically, psychologically and socially. Mr Timmermans was one of only two men in the school in the early 1970s, along with the media assistant, Mr Rowell, but by graduation year, 1975, there were two more. Today a good male friend, younger than I, is a faculty head. As men invaded, the era of old world, clever spinster teachers was ending and I wonder which staff are now substituting as the subject of lurid story-telling by the girls. Cliches like fresh faced and well scrubbed spring to mind after surveillance of the student body, almost 300 stronger now, but it is impossible to measure how happy they are, how sympathetically treated, how good the preparation for challenges to come beyond this cloister. The pair I encounter closely are full of talk about plans and uncertainties. How hard it is to imagine what lies before them, to think what they will be doing at 27, or 37. I feel fiercely protective and hope they have found here the sanctuary girls still need and some friendships to take with them when they go. I did.

Cherrell Hirst, AO, Chair of the Board of Trustees, Annual Report 2001

Jill Rowbotham PAST STUDENT, 1971 – 1975

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