Primary School Confidential Read Online Free

followed her around asking question after question, all of which she answered patiently.
    Judy used to take me to the local shops with her when she ran errands. We would pick up some groceries, select a cupcake from the bakery and we always visited the chemist to fill prescriptions for Judy’s ailing husband, John.
    And it was in the chemist that I first stole a hairclip with a ladybird on it.
    Later that week, I sold the ladybird hairclip to a girl at school for five cents.
    And so began my descent into the world of organised crime. I quickly developed a taste for the good life, and I wanted more. Over the next few months, I continued to visit with Judy, wewould go on her errands and I would stuff my pockets with hairclips at the chemist.
    One afternoon while Mum was putting away the washing, she came across my latest collection of hair accessories, which were due to hit the market over the next few days. She asked me where I got them from. So I told her that Judy McGuinness had bought them for me.
    I was horrified when I saw Mum heading to the telephone and almost died when I heard her say: ‘Hi, Judy. I just wanted to thank you . . .’
    I ran away. THE JIG WAS UP!
    I cautiously entered the kitchen again a few minutes later and heard Mum giving Judy a gentle but firm lecture on how she should not be spending so much money on hair clips for me.
    The next time I visited Judy McGuinness, I confessed everything. How could I not? The guilt was overwhelming. She just gave me a hug and told me that we all do stupid things. It made me love her even more. In the meantime, I sold the last of my stock to a cashed-up and willing market and spent the lot on Galaga and Icees, which were the latest fad . . .
    THE BENEFITS OF A STATION WAGON
    I asked a friend of mine, fellow blogger Kirsten Smith, if she had a stand-out memory from her primary school days. And she did.
    I absolutely loved school as a kid, which was just as well because I went to six of them: four primary schools and two high schools. I wish there was an exciting story to tell about the reason behind the rather large number of school enrolment forms my parents, Pam and Errol Woolcott, have completed over the years but, unfortunately, there’s not.
    I’d love to be able to tell you that at 2 pm on a cold winter’s day in 1984, Pam and Errol were summoned to the principal’s office to discuss my behaviour where the imaginary conversation went a little something like this:
    ‘Mr and Mrs Woolcott, please have a seat. Let me just move this ashtray out of the way and I’ll be able to find your daughter’s file.’ Principal picks up brown glass ashtray and places it next to typewriter. Looks down at desk. ‘Ah, yes. Here it is,’ he says, picking up a thick manila folder and wiping cigarette ash from the front of it.
    ‘I keep telling my secretary to get me one of those new ashtrays on a stand that traps the ash inside. Have you seen them? Such a clever contraption. The mind boggles at what they will invent next!’Sits down and opens file. ‘Now, as you’re aware, our resident Anglican nun, Sister Bridget, teaches the children Religious Education once a week.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ Pam might answer. ‘Lovely lady. Has the perfect skin tone for someone who has to wear black all day long!’
    Principal raises eyebrows, looks up over glasses and clears throat. ‘Mrs Woolcott, this is not the time or the place to be discussing a nun’s skin tone. I have called you and Mr Woolcott here today because your daughter, Kirsten, has done something very serious that will more than likely see her expelled from this school.’
    ‘That doesn’t surprise me. What did she do this time?’ Errol might reply. ‘Please tell me she didn’t sneak her pet rabbit into her backpack again. Pam, I thought you were checking her bag in the mornings?’
    Cue a hefty glare thrown at Errol from Pam and a loud sigh from the principal, followed by the words, ‘No, she did not bring the rabbit