Visiting Schools: Katanning High School and Carrolup Mission

Today was rather interesting, as we spent the morning at Katanning High School and the afternoon at Carrolup (now called Marribank). These were really the two ends of my trip – visiting the school where the art was created that ultimately links us to here, and also visiting a present day school so I could observe an example of the Australian educational system and ask the scores of questions I’ve accumulated in the past week and a half.

When we arrived at the high school everyone seemed rather surprised to see us, which was surprising to us as we didn’t really know what we were supposed to be doing there, other than that the school had requested for us to visit. Hillary, the deputy (vice) principal finally came out and explained that a number of students are in exams today, but that we could observe in the physical education classes and that they were playing basketball today (two of the girls on our trip were on the women’s basketball team at Colgate). I’m not going to lie, I was a little disappointed, as this was such a great professional development activity, and to miss out on a content class seemed like such a waste. After we asked Hillary a number of questions about the school itself, though, I explained that I just finished my teacher training and asked if I could sit in on a social studies class (that was the exam, so no) or an English class. So after some arranging, Chris and I were able to sit in on an English class on Current Events. The teacher, Allison, explained to us that this was a lower level class and that her focus was on getting students to ask questions. They had been studying issues surrounding pensioners and consumer schemes, so she encouraged us to share current issues in the US and bits about our background. So while we didn’t end up observing an actual class, Chris and I were able to speak with some students and learn a lot about Australian education.

We left the school around 11 and went to Carrolup. We picked up Uncle Angus on the way and he entertained us on the bus with his harmonica. At Carrolup he took us around some of the old buildings, sharing some of his experiences when he was at the mission, and also stumping that Noongars in the area should move back to the Marribank complex and turn it into a self-sufficient farm.

After our Uncle Angus tour, we were invited to a barbeque hosted by the Southern Aboriginal Corporation (SAC) and Les. We had mores sausages, some salads, and fresh damper. I joined Margaret at a table and met her friend June, Val who made the damper, and Sheryl who lives in Queensland but has recently traveled cross-country to be reunited with her father. Sheryl very openly shared her story with us: how she was taken in the 1970s, how she was separated from her seven brothers and sisters, and how this year everyone was going to reunite with her father, but some of her siblings started coming over sooner so she drove across the country with her husband and will stay here for a while. Val and Sheryl also explained the process of making damper to us: you make the dough, knead it with flour and then place it in the ashes and cover it completely. When it starts to pull away from the ash on the side, flip it over. I want to try to make damper at camp this summer…it might be interesting, but I’ll have to experiment with the dough mixture.

Once everyone ate, Les called us over for what we thought was a welcome to country, but actually turned out to be a gift presentation. He made us beautiful jamwood sticks used to keep the beat in dances and with the didgeridoo. We were then able to decorate them with heated wire in the campfire. It turns out that I was very uncoordinated with the hotwire, but I think I can go back over my design with a woodburner when I get home. It is still a very cool gift, although most of us think that Les is a politician angling for an agenda: to have the paintings given back. Still, he gave us a beautiful gift that I know we will all treasure.

As everyone was finishing their woodburning, Margaret pulled me aside and presented me with a large wooden snake that had been her late husband’s. She had told me at dinner that she wanted me to have it after she found out I was going to be a teacher ( he had been a teacher). “This way,” she told me, “you’ll have something that you can tell your students came from Australia.” Even more than this, I can share the snake (which doesn’t look exactly like a snake and thus I am ok with) with my students as a tangible example of the importance of building personal relationships.

After lunch, Frank took us on a tour of the rest of Carrolup, showing us some places like the old hospital and the girls’ dormitory. A man named Gary also joined us; both had been at Carrolup in the late 1950s after it was renamed Marribank, but both had incredibly personal stories to share. Frank talked about standing with his mother and watching her cry, while Gary explained that he had been taken here when he was one and spent thirteen years at the mission. As Frank indicated graveyards around the complex, I thought about what it would be like to grow up in a place that seems so much like a rundown summer camp, but is actually more like a prison complex.

I continued to think about this as Uncle Allen Kelly spoke to us with the backdrop of the schoolhouse. While he had shared his story at dinner, telling about being taken from school, told by his teacher to go outside and being greeted by a man and a woman in a black car, being taken by train to Carrolup, facing abuse while there (he showed the scars on his legs), but on the other hand, learning to create art using just a bit of charcoal and a piece of cardboard. While parts of the visit to Carrolup had been rather unemotional, much to my surprise, Uncle Allen’s account brought me to tears and made the pain real. This really connected the final dot in the story, to see the buildings and here the stories of several generations of stolen children. And yet, the visit was mixed with great joy as we celebrated great friendships with people like Margaret and such a gracious gift from Les.

Peace,
Jill