One noticeable transition that occurs in the natural evolution from primary to secondary school, is the way in which teachers are recognized by the general student body – and so it was with my early initiation into Brisbane Grammar School. No more Miss X and Mr Y no sir! Now they were now appropriately referred to as Pogo, Buster, Bouncer, Chrome Dome, Cactus and Moof Moof – if you don’t mind. Now in my era, one Master, as they were branded only in the official school literature, was allocated to each form of students to uphold the position of Form-master. Grammar seemed to be one of the very early schools to adhere to a policy of being an equal opportunity educator. This equality was most evident in the way they seemed to match the average student I.Q. with the appropriate I.Q. of the Form-master. Given that all my form classes ended with a letter well down the list, it was only fitting that I had a Form-master holding a similar degree. Now, the Form-master for my first year at Grammar was named Harvey Trip. See, some masters at Grammar did manage to maintain their original family name but only when the student body decided that the belittling title given to them prior could not be bettered. Try as we may, the members of our class could not find a better descriptor for our Form-master than the name his mother gave him at birth. Still, he drove a classy set of wheels, but while the other master’s vehicles were propelled on four, Harvey Trip would peddle up the school drive each morning only on two wheels. He also had a certain obsession with black marks, which he would enter into his little black book against a class name, whenever he observed a misdemeanour. Baskerville that’s a black mark straight away boy, I soon got tied of that often repeated saying, and its accompanying detentions that followed the 3 strikes and you are out Harvey Tripp crowd control system. He was not a very patient man and seemed to resent the daily roll call required by the school’s administration. His solution was to call the roll in a sort of constant verbal stream like a property auctioneer onto a good thing Ahern, hup, Asprey, yep, Atkinson, here, Barklay, sup, Barnes, ho, Baskerville, yo, Bell, yeh, Berry, ha, . Smith, ya, Smith, yo, Sturges, here, Thornton, ok, Waller, sir. It all happened at such speed that often a class of 40 where ticked off as present and correct, even though 5 of them were still in the change rooms running late for class after completing their morning’s sport training. Incredibly most of that class can still recite that monotonous daily class call, without missing a name. Pogo was the school’s student councilor. I have no idea why he was called that name, but it did kind of suit this rather strangely behaving ‘i want to get into you head’ type psychologist. Buster was my relieving maths teacher in my final years of study. Stand Up! Turn to page 14. When you have read it all sit down he would say as he buried his head into some favourite Old English literary manuscript. Occasionally a glance up from his engrossing read would reveal a class seated and perplexed about the next step in the classical teaching process. Any Questions? Good Stand Up! Turn to page 15.. and so on. And you wonder why I struggled at maths! Now, I often thought that it was an incredible coincidence that the teacher that David often described as bouncing students out of the 4th form class rooms was actually called by the same name. When he stormed into our run-a-muck 2nd form class one day, I was the only one who was able to answer his question addressed to the now sheepish and quieted class Do any of you know who I am? Mr Bouncer, sir was my keen quick retort. Well having to stand with shaking knees outside his large office in the 4th form wing the following day and wait for him to ask me the same question but with a different response expectation, is an emotional fear I will not easily forget. Well a Chrome Dome – is a Chrome Dome. Here was the first time I saw a chamois replace a comb in the back pocket of a man with a hairless head. Cactus was our chief grounds man who was immortalized by the students of the Latin class who wrote on his shed wall once Catio Cactis – I drive a tractor. Then finally on to the keen intellect and science teacher that was Moof Moof. Now, I am not sure whether it was his surname Maloof, or his high tied belted shorts or his floppy bottom lip that mated more with his bushy moustache than the designed other lip when trying to pronounce those M words. Still whatever the original basis of the tag, his statement Moldered moving molecules mostly mutated my modified methods sounded an awful lot to me, like Moof Moof.
