Page 77 - moondani kyema
P. 77
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 77
over the years I have learnt a lot aboutgetting to know who I am and who I want to
be.
I was given a bicycle to ride around the neighbourhood, and at weekends I made the
most of it. I was able to join a hockey team and spent quite a few Saturdays riding
out to recreation grounds around Sydney to play. Often I would just ride on a
Saturday to wherever took my fancy, this included the fairly long ride to the Royal
National Park on the southern boundary of Sydney.
My parents had been able to get me into Fort Street Boys’ High School in Petersham.
This was a school that was regarded as one of the better public schools in Sydney
and your IQ had to be above a certain figure to be able to attend. But high IQ does
not allow for social and cultural confusion. Along the track from the missionary run
boarding school in China to a secular Australian school, I had lost my way.
Teachers in Fort Street did not know what problems they were dealing with, and so I
was left to muddle along. Somewhere along my life as a school kid I had developed
bad study habits. I was afraid to ask for help. In fact I did not know what help I really
needed. The effect was that I could take most things in, but lacked the concentration
and skills to set about remembering them. I didn’t know how to study for exams or
tests of any kind. That meant that trying to keep up with a completely new curriculum
without the skills to deal with it, meant that I was getting further and further behind
and feeling more and more hopeless about the situation.
Each morning I would walk down to Stanmore station to catch the train one stop
away from the city to Petersham station. At least that was what I was supposed to do
and had been doing for a while, but as my feelings of hopelessness and
helplessness grew, I began leaving home and walking to Stanmore station, but going
to the other platform and catching the train in to the city. There I would wander
around and occasionally, with money stolen from Percy’s office desk, go to the
pictures or other entertainment such as “Hour Shows” which showed news, cartoons
and short feature films which lasted for an hour, but replayed non stop all day. You
could stay as long as you liked or as short. In the afternoon, when I was ready, I
would catch the train back to Stanmore and walk into the house as if I had been at
school all day.
This eventually caught up with me and my parents had told me just the day before,
that they had received a call from the school to say that I had not been attending. Of
course I denied this, so an appointment was set up with the school. Fear tied knots in
my stomach at the very thought of facing such an inquisition. There was only one
solution. I would run away. And it would have to be tonight.
Ironically that very day Percy asked me to go with him to an evening meeting to give
a short talk about a subject which I have now forgotten. I went with him as his
assistant deputationist, and I think he was pleased with my contribution. However, as
the appointment with the school was for the next day, my plan did not change.
I waited until I saw the lights go out in the house and then crept in the back door and
down the hallway to the office at the front. It was familiar territory as this was the
house where our family lived for just over two years from 1950. Percy was the
Sydney representative for the China Inland Mission and this was his office. I knew
where to go in the dark. His desk faced the window looking out to the street, and by
getting on my hands and knees, I was able to get under the desk and reach into the
over the years I have learnt a lot aboutgetting to know who I am and who I want to
be.
I was given a bicycle to ride around the neighbourhood, and at weekends I made the
most of it. I was able to join a hockey team and spent quite a few Saturdays riding
out to recreation grounds around Sydney to play. Often I would just ride on a
Saturday to wherever took my fancy, this included the fairly long ride to the Royal
National Park on the southern boundary of Sydney.
My parents had been able to get me into Fort Street Boys’ High School in Petersham.
This was a school that was regarded as one of the better public schools in Sydney
and your IQ had to be above a certain figure to be able to attend. But high IQ does
not allow for social and cultural confusion. Along the track from the missionary run
boarding school in China to a secular Australian school, I had lost my way.
Teachers in Fort Street did not know what problems they were dealing with, and so I
was left to muddle along. Somewhere along my life as a school kid I had developed
bad study habits. I was afraid to ask for help. In fact I did not know what help I really
needed. The effect was that I could take most things in, but lacked the concentration
and skills to set about remembering them. I didn’t know how to study for exams or
tests of any kind. That meant that trying to keep up with a completely new curriculum
without the skills to deal with it, meant that I was getting further and further behind
and feeling more and more hopeless about the situation.
Each morning I would walk down to Stanmore station to catch the train one stop
away from the city to Petersham station. At least that was what I was supposed to do
and had been doing for a while, but as my feelings of hopelessness and
helplessness grew, I began leaving home and walking to Stanmore station, but going
to the other platform and catching the train in to the city. There I would wander
around and occasionally, with money stolen from Percy’s office desk, go to the
pictures or other entertainment such as “Hour Shows” which showed news, cartoons
and short feature films which lasted for an hour, but replayed non stop all day. You
could stay as long as you liked or as short. In the afternoon, when I was ready, I
would catch the train back to Stanmore and walk into the house as if I had been at
school all day.
This eventually caught up with me and my parents had told me just the day before,
that they had received a call from the school to say that I had not been attending. Of
course I denied this, so an appointment was set up with the school. Fear tied knots in
my stomach at the very thought of facing such an inquisition. There was only one
solution. I would run away. And it would have to be tonight.
Ironically that very day Percy asked me to go with him to an evening meeting to give
a short talk about a subject which I have now forgotten. I went with him as his
assistant deputationist, and I think he was pleased with my contribution. However, as
the appointment with the school was for the next day, my plan did not change.
I waited until I saw the lights go out in the house and then crept in the back door and
down the hallway to the office at the front. It was familiar territory as this was the
house where our family lived for just over two years from 1950. Percy was the
Sydney representative for the China Inland Mission and this was his office. I knew
where to go in the dark. His desk faced the window looking out to the street, and by
getting on my hands and knees, I was able to get under the desk and reach into the
