B1 Brisbane(2) 1994-1998

Christmas 1994

It was pretty grim in Northgate, Brisbane, and I don’t remember much about it except that I was waiting for a phone call from a language college. I had walked in to this language college some time in November I think. It was in Edward Street. I remember asking if there were any vacancies. It was the time of the boom in students from Asia. They were everywhere to be seen in Brisbane and language Colleges were opening up everywhere. (I even considered opening my own later) I was received by a very busy Ms. Kay L__, whose Daddy owned the College.

I had a sort of interview with her for about 40 minutes on the spot. That was it. I never heard from her again.

In desperation, in December, after leaving Kooralbyn, I went to social security and requested to be ‘case-managed’. This was a category of being unemployed which for most people on the dole was   highly undesirable – because it meant having to phone up employers on a regular basis . This was exactly what I wanted: I wanted someone to actually make a few suggestions as to where I might work. I was prepared to do anything at this stage-even to retrain for something like a travel agents course-as I had considered before in Ireland.

Eventually I was granted my wish and I was signed up by a very helpful fellow. I'll say again that I found all the government organisations with whom I had contact in those days in my hour of need to be very helpful. Try as he might my case manager could not understand why I had not been able to get a job!

I told him about walking the streets of Brisbane and into Language Colleges.

“Oh” he said, ‘I know someone who is the Director of one of those in the city-I’ll give her a ring’.

This is just the sort of help new migrants to Australia need. If you arrive here in a boat in dire straits help is available-but anyone else is left to fend for themselves. So, anyway he made the call – and the conversation went on and on and I thought–well, this sounds like I might be in with a chance.

Eventually he said-‘Well, she says she knows you!’ I realized it must have been Kayleen. And she’ll give you a call in the new year.

‘Great’ I said, then I asked him why Kay hadn’t called me after my visit/interview. He said rather sheepishly

‘She said she didn’t like your clip-on Glasses’.

‘Oh of course! Yes, I should have known! I said to myself, "Silly me for wearing clip-on glasses!"

I remember I had bought these rather expensive clip-ons for the drive up to Brisbane from Kilmore. They were the old style which you could hinge upwards into a horizontal plane parallel to the ground when you didn’t want to use them. They actually had the effect of making the wearer resemble Mickey Mouse. Kay must have thought so anyway.

Anyway, the new year came and I was called one night by Kay who wanted to know could I start the next day. Most of the people in the ESL industry seemed to have this ‘last minute’ mentality – very different from regular High Schools. Desperate , as ever, I said yes. I arrived in to work to be given a bunch of papers and told to teach in five minutes! This was so typical of ESL Colleges!

Anyway I survived for a few weeks learning a few tricks of the trade. Then they appointed a DOS (Director of Studies) –who immediately invited herself into my class. Her comments on my teaching were clumsy and unhelpful. I took the hump, went home and  never returned. I had lasted a month-another dramatic Nixon departure! This was my first, but to be by no means the last experience of the ‘Bossy Aussie Female’. They seemed to be were everywhere in the ESL ‘Industry’ and I have suffered under many more!

Beerwah

In April 1995, completely out of the blue I got a phone call from Education Queensland, Sunshine coast office. I had registered with them as a science and English teacher-an expensive and lengthy waste of time. The Head of Beerwah State High school – Mr A____was his name- wanted to know if I was interested in teaching Spanish at his school! I was very surprised but agreed to go to an interview with himself and the LOTE coordinator the next day. As usual the interview was another farce: He asked me a whole lot of questions based on the Queensland curriculum etc about which I was understandably clueless. This was Australia's not so subtle way of making sure outsider’s didn’t get selected at the interviews. After a while I felt like terminating the interview as  it was going so badly, and I said to him;

'Actually I think we are wasting our time here'  I said, I can’t answer any of these questions”

“ Not at all” , he said suddenly. He went on to say he would be prepared to offer me a contract –including the promise of in-service development in Chile at Christmas! Could I start on Monday?

Well, off we went…


The buildings were beautiful at the school. The staff were ok but the problem was the students. They were revolting!

I had one year eight class which was truly horrendous. On the first day I spent five minutes getting them to sit down and then spent the rest of the class giving them rules and my expectations for the class. I got nothing whatever done. The second day was worse. I couldn’t get a group of five yobs at the back to sit down. They were all calling out to each other and laughing and whistling etc. After about ten minutes one of them decided to up the ante a bit by shouting out to me

“ Hey foreskins, are you Irish?”

That was my second class. I had been told by the Deputy Head not to accept bad language under any circumstances. So, I reported the incident.

Big mistake!

The result was the Principal sent in the counsellor with me to the next class. It was bedlam. The kids played up even more with him there and he must have dobbed me in to the Principal because the next day I was called in by the Principal and he told me he was withdrawing the offer of the job and that he thought a man of twenty years experience would have been able to control the students.

Anyway,  this was yet another disaster!

By this time my self confidence was shattered and my career was in ruins.

I stole home to re-sign on the dole again.

Lorraine Martin Language College

It is difficult to know how I regard this next phase. I suppose if the graph descended sharply between Colombia thru Mexico Dubai, Ireland and Kilmore –I might say that it started to  flatten out or bottom out at Lorraine Martin College. I spent almost six years at this Language College. It was a bit like being in a retirement home – the work was pleasurable and without stress most of the time-except perhaps at the very beginning and the very end. The problem was that I , unlike most retirees,  had to support four dependents on 32 dollars per hour. The money was very poor and I didn’t even realize this for most of the time I was there. Just shows you how money savvy I wasn’t! I earned about 38000 a year for the last three years when I was working full-time.

Anyway, I started at Lorraine Martin when I got a phone call from a very nice English girl, whose name now escapes me. (Pauline, I think) She asked me was I interested in an interview and so I said yes. I was ‘hired’ as they say in the U.S. She said the working atmosphere was very good and she was right in that respect at first. You could sense the atmosphere was completely different from Kayleen's joint., my first job. My confidence was at a low ebb and I only signed on for two days a week. I wanted to be sure I knew what I was doing before I committed..Pauline, I remember her name now, was happy with this.

Of course, I was earning less on two days than I would have earned on the dole. But my pride would not let me continue with the dole, and I had to claw my way back into the system somehow. I had to rebuild a new career entirely,in fact.

My days as a science teacher and administrator in international schools were finished as far as I was concerned.

I started with the High School students which I did not actually want to do. I had had enough of recalcitrant teenagers by this time. However non-Anglo teenagers were better than Anglos. After a month I felt confident enough to go to three days. After six months I went to four days.


During this six months at the end of 1995, we had a visit from an old friend Nick Rey___ an Englishman and Maths teacher in Mexico with whom I had taught at Greengates in 1987. Nick had been a solid colleague and a good friend. I don’t think he quite realised how bad our situation was financially but it was so good to see him. He loved the visit too and struck up a good friendship with the boys. I remember him saying that Sergio had a remarkable talent for maths – and he was only six! At the airport, it was an indication of my emotional state that I felt an acute sense of loss as he departed the plane for Mexico. It had been so long since I had been able to chat to another friend apart from Maria. (who, I should add, had single-handedly kept me together for the previous three or four traumatic years.)

Dad’s Death November 1995

In November, I was teaching in class one day when Paul G, another teacher came to my classroom to say there was an urgent phone call from Marie. She told me the sad news that Dad had taken ill and died. That evening I spoke to my brother and I explained to him that I would like to go to the funeral. This would not be possible, he said. My brother knew that we did not have the money to fly to Ireland so he kindly paid for us all to go at Christmas. I have always been sad that I couldn’t get to the funeral.

I was shocked by Dad’s death. A couple of months previously, I had spoken to Dad on the phone And for the first time I had noticed he was not his usual cheerful self. I had suggested he and Mum come to Brisbane and he had expressed little interest-in fact he sounded quite irritable. I think he knew then that he was not well and probably would never see Brisbane. He had loved the trips to Malawi, Colombia , Dubai and Melbourne.

I remember breaking down one evening  as I walked along Storey Road. That is the third time I have admitted to breaking down in these recollections.

Maybe the Nixons are weepers..

The kids loved the trip to Ireland and–and wasted no time in making friends with their cousins A and L. They loved tobogganing on the snow at Stormont!

When I got back I asked the college if I could transfer to teaching adults. This was granted and I started teaching four days a week. I continued during the ‘Boom’ days for a couple of years like this. There were plenty of students and the College even put us on permanent contracts –with four weeks paid holiday and sick leave. The teaching was tiring but enjoyable. There were twenty five contact hours per week.

But in 1998 the ‘Asian Crash’ happened. In the ‘Tiger’ economies of Malaysia, Korea, Taiwan and Japan the currencies all crashed. This resulted in a quite rapid reduction in numbers of students from our main target countries. Suddenly Lorraine Martin which was now Embassy College started to shed staff. The casuals were the first to go. Teachers started to look for alternatives-a couple went to Brunei-including Sam B–my first boss at Lorraine Martin. I began to get worried myself.

Social life in Brisbane.

This was a disappointing aspect of our time in Brisbane. We moved to Kallangur in North Brisbane and had co-ownership with the Government of a modest but attractive Queenslander in Storey Road. Why did we choose Kallangur? Actually with a pin on a map! We didn’t know where anywhere was so we chose a place mid-way between Brisbane and the Sunshine coast. I was able to go to work on my bicycle to the train in the mornings and then take the train to central station from where I had a ten minute walk to work.

Maria was accepted at QUT to do her Post Graduate Diploma in Education to become a primary teacher. This she achieved and it was a tremendous achievement. she was feeding and looking after three children as well. As well as a mainstream primary qualification, she specialized in teaching  languages other than English.

But our social life was disappointing. Nobody seemed to want to enter the house. It was like it was haunted. come in for a coffee/ have beer?

“Nah!"  was the inevitable reply.

But our neighbour Ron was a blessing! Ron and his wifr  were a great couple. Ron was on a permanent disability pension for epilepsy. He never worked in the five years we were there. He looked like a blond Hells Angel and liked to walk around the garden in his shorts and nothing else. I remember Mum being quite shocked by the sight of him when she came to visit!

But he was a an exceptionally helpful person. He helped me with many things in and around the house-putting in the airconditioner in the bedroom, replacing the basin in the bathroom, tiling the yard –everything Ron would help with and never ask for anything in return. He represented everything good about Australia. Whenever we left to go to Brunei, rather than get an insulting few hundred dollars for my car I gave it to Ron! I felt really good about it because although our 1982 Falcon ‘bluey’ had done 350000 Kilometers it was still in great working order and had another 100000 K’s in it at least!

Our other neighbour  was a builder. He was also quite friendly. But his wife, a polish immigrant, was more reserved. He  was a great provider. They were only living in their house while they built a new one. When he had finished and they moved in to the new house we heard that she had left him keeping the new house and throwing  him out! It was sad.

For a while their house was rented by an ugly young neandertahl  living with his girlfriend. We used to hear him roaring and shouting and cursing as he went in and out of the house. He made such a scene all the time and he was very noisy. One morning, when my maths teacher friend form mexico was staying with me, I got up early ,woken up by this man’s mother who had come to pick him up early in the morning and made an awful din. She was blowing the horn etc. I rushed down and out to the mother and remonstrated with her for waking me up. Suddenly, out of the bushes came the Neanderthal man in leaps and bounds.

‘Leave my mother alone you Dickhead !’ he roared.

I beat a fairly undignified retreat and my  at the top of the steps muttered to himself ( referring to me said) “rash.!.” He was right of course. I get grumpy early in the mornings.

Fortunately, the estate agent ejected this loathesome individual a few weeks later, but not until the police had been called one day by I don’t know who. Marie was alarmed by the fierce row going on. When they arrived they found the belongings of the girlfriend strewn all round the yard. It was a right mess.

He was replaced with a very nice couple. They were friendly.

Our other contacts had been were the friends  of my brother in Ireland . I he was a school friend. I knew him at Trinity college in Dublin. They now lived quite close to us in a beautiful new house.

They were a strange couple. He was very pleasant and helpful and stable-but she was a little odd at times-but could be very pleasant if she chose to.  A very funny incident occurred when Mum and Roger were visiting us in 1997.

They came over to our house and then invited us all over to their house the next evening for something to eat. We arrived a few minutes after eight to find the house in darkness. My my mother later  told me that my brother was incensed by this slight and had grumbled to her:‘Another Donald cock-up !’ or words to that effect. It was nothing to do with me at all. They had simply forgotten the appointment. We were about to leave, when their car drew up and out pranced the wife clutching a bag of chips which she was apparently just finishing off! They then half-apologized , sat us down, went into the kitchen and produced a large bag of crisps to offer to the assembled company. It was a disaster and after a polite interlude we made our excuses and left. My big brother was not impressed! 

My big brother, Roger, was a well-intentioned and good man, in that he looked after Mum very well in Ireland. He was also generous and helped me out when we were in crisis  in Melbourne. However, his blaming of me for this incident  shows what he really thought of me. and it wasn't just me, it was my lifestyle he disapproved of.  He  clearly didn't approve of many of the things I had done. He thought we were all on permanent holiday in the sunshine. As these memoirs clearly show., we were not. It was quite the opposite. We never had more than 2 halfpennys to rub together. I constantly invited my brother and his wife to visit  us but they never did until  after Dad had died and they came to Brunei, and only because it was on the way to visit his wife's relatives in New Zealand. Roger and I were never close.  The big brother /little brother sibling relationship is often fraught with problems and even  conflict. As we became older,  the relationship became more fraught. Our circumstances and lifestyle were different. He had a wife who had problems with all of the Nixons, they he retired early at 55,  and were loaded. My circumstances could not have been more different. I  had a wife who got on well with all the Nixons, we could not retire until  67, and had 3 children to support. Our financial situation could not have been more different. as Mum used to say: we were always pulling the devil by the tail.

 

Money was very tight. We never had more than about a thousand dollars in the bank, and often less. Eventually, Marie had a car accident which was not her fault. There was damage to our car but the guy had no insurance and I had only third party –to save money – a big mistake-false economy. Then, as luck would have it , a couple of weeks later, Marie had another accident . This time it was her fault and the bloke she crashed into was angry. We had to pay a bill of about three thousand dollars for our car to put it back on the road. I was too proud to ask my brother for money and I needed the money –or Maria couldn’t drive to work. So I asked an old  to lend me about 1800 pounds and this saved the day. i repaid it some years later when we had some savings in Brunei. This was the only time in my life I have ever borrowed money from anyone.