\title{First Talk about my Teaching Career}
\author{Frank Foxcroft spoke to the Healesville and District Historical Society}
\date{}
\maketitle

\begin{play}

Les:  Over the, over the past couple of weeks, twice I have had to write some
form of advertisement for our guest speaker tonight, and the fact that he's,
he's a um, local, I suppose, has been the cause of my commiting somewhat more
laxity tonight than it would have been had he come from far afield, and
probably I won't commit that sort of laxity next week when we'll have to be on
our best behaviour, with Bill Lawrence.  I haven't said anything about Frank
Foxcroft that I didn't feel and didn't mean.  I said in the little thing for the
Mountain Views that he probably has won the affection of perhaps more people
than any other single individual has done in Healesville, certainly at the
present time - I can't speak of back over the years.  But I think it's true.  I
have never heard anybody, any ex-student of Frank's, criticism him, harshly -
um, I was reminded this evening that at his retirement, at which I was present,
eh, the retirement ceremony at the school when Frank did retire, ah, that
Robbie Heritage was one of the speakers, and he, he brought roars of hilarity
by referring to him as old Foxy and so forth!

[laughter]

Les:  That's the lot of all teachers.  I could tell you, I'm not going to, some
of the nicknames which I've been known, in my brief career, you would
understand the wit of children.  But mostly it's all very ... in very good
humour, it's not intended viciously.  But I have heard people speak of Frank,
men and women now, and always with affection, always with respect, ah, for his
teaching methods, and respect for the man himself, and as I say with affection,
eh, Elizabeth, um, Joy Murphy here a few of months ago.  I'm not going to ask
Bob in case he spoils my record!  Ah, Max rather, Max Holt.  Another former
student.  Max might, might even ... can't think of anything bad!  [laughs]  No,
it is true.  And he really doesn't need any introduction to us, so, instead of
listening to me babble on and attempt to introduce him, Frank, how about coming
forward and telling us, please ...

[applause]

Les:  And I can't see why a fellow as old as you, retired for so long should
stand, how about sitting down?

Frank:  I was going to sit where you were, actually.

Les:  Oh, would you like to?

Frank:  Yeah.

Les:  Well, you feel comfortable at the table.

Frank:  It's good to get the applause beforehand, I mightn't get any after!

[laughter]

[sounds of shuffling papers or something]

?:  Couldn't you find a better briefcase than that? <?>

[laughter]

Frank:  They didn't give me one.

Les:  You got the gold watch instead.

Frank:  Right, well this is the start of me being here, ah, a bring and show
something at the last meeting.  I didn't want to do all the talking, so I said
I could've spoken for about an hour on this, and somehow or other it got
dubbed, I got dubbed into doing not only this school, but apparently every
other school I've taught at.

Les:  That's right.  Right?

Frank:  So, I didn't know where to start, and I decided I'd start right from
the very beginning when I became a junior teacher.  That was in
nineteen-hundred-and-thirty, when the depression was on.  I left school, and
eh, I put in for about a job as an accountant, a job at a bank, and a job for a
school teacher.  Didn't get any of them, so I went back to school.  I was back
at school about a fortnight, then I was told that, eh, if my eyes would pass
the test, I'd get, I was sure for the job with an accountant.  So I went down
to the doctor, put drops in my eyes, and in those days there was nothing to,
eh, counteract, <?> put up with that for about three or four days.  Same day,
got an appointment as a junior teacher at Dunkeld, twenty miles away.  I was
taken out there and, y'know, everything was like this ...

[laughter]

Frank:  straight into the classroom with a, uh, senior teacher.  In those days,
we had the junior teacher system, where you taught with, eh, some assistant in
charge, over, eh, seeing how you were going, helping you out.  Every night
after school you had lessons, each day you had to prepare notes of lessons and
hand into the teachers.  They would check them as soon as they ... ``That's a
pretty good idea.'' or ``That's rotten, nah, you wouldn't do it that way; do it
this way.''  Anyway, the first day there I was just watching, what I could
watch, <?> I say, everything was just swimming around, I didn't know where on
Earth I was.  First lesson I had to give was pastel.  I'd never used a pastel
in my life.  And I had to draw, at that time, um, Kate<?> weed.  I went to pick
a Kate<?> weed at night, and I find the blooming things are all closed up!

[laughter]

Frank:  That's how I started off with my teaching.  I wasn't too happy about
it.  Um, that school taught me a mighty lot.  We had an excellent headmaster,
as far as help was concerned, but as a disciplinarian he wasn't much good.  The
kids used to give him a lot of cheek.  In Dunkeld up at the post office they
had a notice board there, and every notice he put up, they'd put in the front,
``Reverend'' <?> in front of his name.  And they gave him a pretty tough time.
But he was marvellous with us, there was another young chap ... he and I used
to stay behind after school for the lessons he would give us, and how to do
this, how to do that ... and we never left that school until somewhere around
five or half-past five.  Turns out afterwards, he was dying to get out - and we
were dying to go to, we thought we had to stay!

Les:  stay for the same reason!

Frank:  Yes!  I had twelve months there.  There was <?> funny things happened,
there were two sub-normal children there, one was a great big boy of sixteen
years of age, couldn't read, couldn't write, and every now and again he let out
the most ungodly noises.  But everybody there was very, very good to him, they
helped him, and no one worried<?> poor old Jack.  Some years ago I read in the
paper that Jack had died, and the parents had thanked all the people who had
lived with him in the town and had gone to school with him for being so
understanding with him.  I thought it was a lovely thing for them to do.  There
was another little boy ... Jack <?> six, as I say a great big fellow, strong as
a horse, and if he'd made up his mind he was going to do something <??>, nobody
could stop him, y'know, he just had all that power, but fortunately he was a
very, very kind and eh, harmless sort of chap.  There was another little child,
he was an absolute runt, and hopeless.  <?> Y'know, two of those in the one
room, it was murder.

Frank:  Well, after I left Hamilton ... Oh, I'll tell you about [ahem] there
was some terrible children at that school, one or two<?> I'll never forget,
called Henry Quinlibbin<?>, everybody <?> called him Henry Quin.  Ah, the
infant teacher, eh, Henry was in grade six, the infant teacher was in a
different part of the school.  And I had Henry Quinlibbin down gardening one
day with all the other children, and then the message came down, please send
Henry Quinlibbin up to me.  So I said to Henry, ``Henry, Miss Jones wants you,
off you go.''  And Henry disappeared.  About ten minutes later I got a most
beautiful note from this teacher:  ``I told you to send Henry Quinlibbin to
me!''  I said ``Henry, you been?'' ``No!!''  I said ``you better go!''
``I'm not going to that old ...''  So and so and so and so!  I said  ``Come on,
come on!''  `No!!''  So I got him by the arm, and next thing I'd find, his
foot's <?> coming around here, and I'm hanging on here, y'know?

[laughter]

Frank:  Oh gee, I'll never forget that one!  And another day, I was umpiring
the football match for the children, and eh, Henry was terribly rough, anything
goes with him, break all the rules there were.  And I'd been giving free kicks
against him quite a lot.  In the end he started telling me what he though about
me, and I told him to go up to the ... I said `get out off the field, go up...'
`I'm not going there, you [mumble, mumble] ...'  So I went to get hold of him
but, over the back fence and away he went, yelling out `My brother boxer'll get
you tonight!'  This is friday.  `My brother boxer'll get you!  He'll be up the
corner waiting for you!'  [laughs]

[laughter]

Frank:  Oh, I can tell you, I had the wind up properly, because ...  I used to
get a lift home to Hamilton with another teacher, used to be<?> up in the
Victoria valley, and he used to pick me up at the corner.  And I can tell you,
I was watching out to see if Boxer was coming!

[laughter]

Frank:  Fortunately, Boxer never turned up.  After I left - give you some idea
what the school was like - a new headmaster was appointed sometime after I
left, and within a few weeks, four or five of those children were taken away
from their parents and sent to down to Melbourne homes.  And after that I
believe everything garden<??> was lovely there.  Well, I got transferred to
Hamilton, which was my home town, started off with forty infants in one room,
including my sister.  And she was going to have a marvellous time, her brother
was teaching her, and she was going to do this, and she was going to do that,
and all the other kids were egging her on, for about the first ten minutes, and
after that, I never had any more trouble.

[laughter]

Les:  Are you going to give us the details, Frank?

Frank:  Oh, no.  Eh that infant, eh, the training of the junior, the teachers
of the teachers in those days I consider was very, very good, the junior
teacher system.  It's not on, not being used now, but I think it had marvellous
ideas.  You normally taught under the supervision of another teacher.  You each
day, you'd write out the notes of lessons for two lessons you were going to
give, two special lessons which this teacher'd always check beforehand, and
give you any hints.  And then, every month you had to give a lesson in front of
the headmaster or one of the other teachers.  Every month, some teacher had to
give a demonstration lesson to you, and you had to take notes and find out what
you thought was right or wrong with it, and they did the same thing with the
lessons you gave.  You had to pass examinations, at the end of the year, and
after you'd been <?> about two years course, you're allowed, you could apply to
go to the teachers' college.  Well, at that time we struck the depression, and
they closed down the Ballarat teachers' college which was really run for the
people in Hamilton I think, because about every second Hamilton high-school
ex-student became a teacher.  Well they closed that one down, and they closed
some other down, and they stayed closed down until just recently.  But in 1934,
they opened up the, um, teachers' college in Melbourne, and they took three
hundred students in at one go, well it was absolute murder.  Funny part about
it, half the teachers ...  I'd been teaching for four years, I'd been teaching
my own grade, without any supervision, for two years.  And most of the other
teachers were the same thing, we knew as much about teaching as most of the
lecturers down there.  Certainly we knew more about teaching than some of the
teachers, when we were sent out to the colleges, from the colleges to the
various training schools.  I remember quite well one time going to one of the
training schools.  And oh, there was a teacher there, she was ... had to go to
her room, and she had us <?> she was absolutely hopeless.  And eh, kids were
bored stiff, y'know, sort of [sound of paper shuffling] all the time.  Not the
<?>.  And I gave a lesson, I had the children jumping out of the skins, I'd say
`Oh, I'll bet you can't answer this one, I'll trick you this time, you won't be
able to get this answer to this one...'  And here they, up they go, their
hands!  In the criticism, `Don't approve of trying to discourage children, by
trying to tell them they can't answer.'

[laughter]

Frank:  Ah.  My, eh, after you'd been, each year you had to do examinations,
and after the final examinations you had to give a so-, eh, one of the things
you had to do was, eh, take a school song.  Well I can't sing `God Save the
Queen' the same way twice in succession.  And, as far as music's concerned, I
knew absoultely nothing.  We had to think about things about
`tap-a-titi-ta-tay-ta-ah-ta' and a whole lotta what they call the sonic tolf-
...  tonic sol-fa which I still don't understand.

[laughter at Spoonerism]

Frank:  Anyway, I got over that one quite well, because they all knew I
couldn't sing to save my life, and I had to strike the tuning fork and give the
note, and the teacher in the room, he led the, led the... `DOH!' <?> all the
kids come in with him, and oh, had to give all the... and he really led it...
But I got through it anyway.

[laughter]

Frank:  Well... what have I thrown away this time?

Les:  Only a bit of paper.  You did use that piece. <?>

Frank: Um.  Down at the college, as I said, was, 1934, it was a terrible
business.  There were these three hundred teachers, we were divided into
groups, there were three groups of men, and three groups of women, and we never
saw each-other except once a week they'd have a big assembly, in a huge hall,
that's the only time you saw the other groups.  Sometimes at the beginning, it got
better later on, you'd come in, say you were in group A, you'd come in, and
this lecturer would give you a lecture about something, group B would come in,
and they'd get the same lecture and so on, and group C would be out on a two
weeks teaching.  Then group C would come in and group A would go out, and it's
going like this.  But over and over again we'd walk in and the lecturer would
give us the same lectures we'd had the week before, because he thought we were
the other group!

[laughter]

Frank:  Well, after y'know, after a few week they got us straightened out, but
it was pretty hectic at the beginning.  I was staying at a hostel


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