BACK TO SCHOOL.

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 208, 3 September 1934, Page 5

BACK TO SCHOOL.

TALES OF. TEACHERS. PACKHORSE, BOAT, LORRY. WATCHING THE WEATHEB. "Well, you talk about getting back to your school in a fishing boat. I can beat that. I have had to tie my gear on a pack-horse and pack it over some i steep hills, because the weather was too bad for the boat to get in." "But," rejoined a third, "you got the boat. Once I waited all the holidays for a launch, and then it didn't come— also on account of the weather." The conversation took place between \a group of young school teachers, and they were talking about the various expedients they had had to use to get to and' from the out-of-the-way places where their schools were situated. To those who, on an annual Christmas tour keep more or less to the main roads, New Zealand is a civilised place; but ask these young men what they could tell about it! Schools open again to-day, so that by now these young men will have embarked again on their tri-annual odyssey. "Hope the weather holds for a day or two," said one of them,, continuing the conversation, "for if the wind blows too, hard in one direction I won't be able to land where I want to, and that'll mean having to use the confounded pack-horse again. Y'know," he added, "it'll take the tub that gets me. to the Barrier about seven hours to make the trip. And it can be nasty, too. Even if the weather is good, my troubles will not be over when I get tl ere. To begin with, there is no wharf where I land—it is an open bay—so I have to row myself and my gear across it in *

dinghy. I round a point, land on a beach, and then lug my stuff up to my farmhouse, which is not far away, as best I can. "That's all right in fine weather. But if it's rough, it's different. Twice when I have been down, it has been too rough to use' the dinghy. I could not row across the bay, so I had to think of something else. I was in fairly good clothes. I changed and then thought again. The steamer was anchored some 200 yards off the nearest point of land. I had never landed there, for it was nowhere near my farm house. But still it was land, and it was possible to row there, since that part of the bay was reasonably sheltered. I got that far without mishap —though I had to swing myself and gear over the side of the ship—and the. next consideration was to get round the point to the other side of the bay." The Long TraiL Necessity was the mother in invention, so he hit on the idea of a horse. After some trouble he managed to make a farmer there understand his need, and secured the loan of a quiet animal. He tied his bags on and began his long trail over the razor-back hills—anyone who has been to the Barrier will know just how razor-backed they are—to his lodgings. It was only two miles across the water, but it was many more over the hills and down into the valleys, where a track was merely a courtesy title. Every now and again, his bags would show a strong desire to slip off. They had to be fixed; and then the horse would show just as strong a desire to rest awhile by the way. Nevertheless, he got home with almost everything intact. He was glad he had changed his clothes. That was one adventure going back from Auckland. Another time, he was coming up-to Auckland, or seeking to. Again the weather was rough Again the steamer could not anchor in the bay. From the shore, he saw her make two Ineffectual attempts, and then leave him where he was to wait for her. One night he slept in a workers' camp nearby shivering with the cold-all his gear had preceded him-and smoking cigarettes in an effort .to discourage the attacks of sundry small animals. Scarce wonder it was that as he spoke, he wondered I about the weather.

School on a Lighthouse. Another young man has a school on a lighthouse. After he has journeyed by train, he has to make arrangements with a launch to take him the last stage of his journey home. The last stretch of sea is rough, so the arrangement is precarious, the weather being the deciding factor. On one occasion the weather became so important that | he waited in vain all the holidays for the launch to come and take him off! The cream lorry is another great standby for teachers. Many of them take the train to the edge of the beyond, and then go into the beyond itself by whatever means offers. Very often it is the cream lorry that offers. One teacher takes the train to Otiria. Then he takes the service car to Awanui. There he sleeps a night. After that it is the cream lorry that takes him for 20 miles further. Otiria is the jumping off place of another teacher. He takes the service car to Mangonui, where he sleeps. The next morning, he rides a horse, and when he arrives he wishes j his mount had been a cream lorry. A Modern Charon. Others have to go to school in large rowing craft, sometimes dinghies, sonietimes°punts, taking their scholars with them. One at least acts the part of a.modern Charon. His Styx is a fairly large river; and the parents trust their children to him, each morning and afternoon. More than one teacher does not know how exactly he will get to his destination. He.will go by rail, or by car, or by boat; as far as he can; but how he will get over the last dozen or 20 miles he does not know. More than one has walked it. One once walked 30 miles ! over a range on the Coromandel Peninsula; but that was partly to do with pleasure. And so is taught the youth of New Zealand in the back-o'-beyond, in places to arrive at which is an adventure in itself, to live in which is sometimes a pleasure, sometimes a burden. City dwellers do not realise what a difference the residents of a small place can make to a stranger. Ask some teachers about some school committees. To the listener the trip "home" savours something of the romantic. The young teachers have other terms to describe it.