July 1955 School Magazine

July, 1955

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

July, 1955

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

THE LUMP-BREAKERS. There they stood-the oddest collection of men I have ever seen. Black, half-undressed, weary and bleary-eyed, they were a miserable sight. Wide smiles that showed up broken, nicotine-stained teeth and the friendliness of their hearts ; flashed out as they hollered "g'day." Singlets, torn and mended, threadbare, black with coal dust and wringing wet with perspiration, clung to their bodies, following the muscles that rippled underneath and exposing the power of their shoulders. Filthy shorts, dirty socks and dust covered boots, thick and heavy, the pick standing by- these were the badges of the tired lump-breakers, with faces seamed, black and unshaven. They were tall and short, broad and wiry, old and young; they smoked and gambled, cursed and raved- the government \Vasn't any good; the beer was sour; the pay was short; the union wasn't doing all it should; the weather was hot; the missus was in a bad mood; the kids screamed; they lost on the races; it was going to rain-a casket ticket it wouldn't. The truck drivers were slow; they made too much noise; it was too hot; -Gam ! Let's have smoko ! So they sat down and smoked, with a cigarette drooping out of one corner of the mouth, and talked, and ate, and swallowed boiling hot tea, black as the coal itself, and washed down the coal dust with a taste of cheese to help it along. Then back to work. Up! Down! Up! Down! Crash ! Crumble ! The heavy picks came down, smashing the coal into smaller lumps and pushing them through the gaps into the trucks beneath. Standing precariously on the iron bars, they smashed and swung, smashed and swung, smashed their strength and swung their lives away. Eeryl Currie, VI A. PORTRAIT OF A TEACHER. A teacher is generally found peering at, looking over, frightening, encouraging, reprimanding, glaring at, explaining to, answering the questions of, hearing excuses from, and be- coming impatient with or tired of-her pupils. She is expected to know anything that is asked of her, and she expects her pupils to know anything that is asked of them. If they have not learned their work, she must punish them, heedless of the dark thoughts which may be lurking in their guilty minds. As 20

well as being a teacher, she is a sympathizer, critic, adviser, examiner, psychologist, helper, organizer, silence-keeper, and fond homework-setter. She must become accustomed to limited spaces, and learn to divide her time between sitting, standing, and walking a long endless rows of endless pupils the same age, and dressed in the same clothes. Moreover, she must contend with the assorted expressions she faces all day- bored, interested, intelligent, dull-and do her best to keep scores of eyes focused on her or the blackboard, and not on the gardener, cleaner, and pup out the window, or clock .on the wall. Some think her a tyrant, others a heroine, but out of school you will find she is just an ordinary, every-day human being, encountering the same joys, p leasures, and misfor tunes as you are encountering yourself. - Barbara Ward, IV E. THE POPULAR STORY AS THEY LIKE IT. "Put them up !" The dark-haired young man started at the order, his bronz- ed face paling as he saw he was caught, and caught without the slightest chance of escape. Silently he raised his hands above his head. · "Higher please-hold them straight up !" With a groan he stretched his arms still farther upwards. He raised his eyes in mute appeal but he saw no mercy in the steadied gaze which met his glance. His captor was a woman, and was apparently used to handling men of his type. He shook from h is head to his feet as he watched her capable hands, the hands of a woman from whom he could expect no mercy. Here was a woman with an iron will. If only he had stayed at home! If only-but it was too late now for deep regret. He was trapped, trapped by a woman who sat there eyeing him with no trace of compassion in her glance. He saw it a ll now; she had been prepared for him from the start, had waited her chance to trick him into- this. A drop of perspiration trickled down his face. Why wouldn't she end this suspense, this agony of waiting? He breathed heavily, while his legs felt weak and trembling under him. Wauld she never speak, never do anything to end this intolerable silence ? At last she spoke. "That will do, thank you !" was all she said. With a sigh of relief, he let his weary arms fall to his sides, inwardly vow- ing tha t never again would he be tricked into acting as wool- holder for his grandmother ! -Merrell Williams, V B. 21

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