Ming and Flo Fight for the Future by Jackie French

Author:Jackie French
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

THE RAGGED SCHOOL

Three days later, Ming stared at fifty faces that looked back at her from behind battered tables in what had been an old warehouse. Light filtered through cobwebs on high barred windows. The bricks seemed to have been made of grime. And her corset was so tight she had to take tiny breaths and remember not to move too fast. Most of the group looked European — there was more brown, red or blonde hair gathered together than she’d ever seen at school — but there was a scattering of Indigenous or even Maori, Asian and Middle Eastern. Ming had been right on her first day on the farm, she thought. Those who’d colonised Australia were much more mixed than the history books implied.

The oldest person in the room was a toothless woman, her few remaining locks of hair straggling down a face of dirt and wrinkles, already head down and dozing. The youngest was a girl who might be four, wearing what had once been the top half of a woman’s dress. Most were boys, six to ten perhaps, with a scattering of men. Everyone looked grimy, thin and definitely ragged. None looked as if they might ever be Prime Minister or invent anything.

‘The families mostly send the boys, of course,’ said Miss Prim brightly to Ming and Aunt McTavish.

Miss Prim was middle-aged, middle-sized, dressed in grey with violets on her hat, with a slightly desperate gaiety, as if perpetually faced with slightly more than she could bear without a firm smile. ‘It helps the boys in their trades if they can read and write a little.’

‘A most excellent cause,’ said Aunt McTavish approvingly.

Miss Prim beamed at Ming. ‘Oh, it is so kind of you to take over this school! We are starting another at Parramatta and so badly need more teachers.’

‘But I’ve never taught before!’ said Ming desperately.

‘You know all these unfortunates need to know,’ Aunt McTavish said firmly. ‘Teach them to write their names and to do simple sums. A few may even learn to read.’

‘There is the chalk.’ Miss Prim pointed to a small pile next to the blackboard. ‘Have you ever used a blackboard?’

‘No, Miss Prim.’

‘It is very easy. You write like this.’ She scribbled Good morning on the board. Behind her the students sat quietly, not as if they were awed by school, but more just glad of a chance to rest. ‘Then you can rub out words or numbers with the duster. I’m afraid you will get your hands dirty, but there is a barrel of water in the courtyard.’

‘A barrel?’ said Ming.

‘Don’t drink the water, of course — the school isn’t connected to the city water. There’s no, ahem, convenience either,’ she added in a whisper. ‘But you’re not here for long. We find that two hours of lessons a day is all the time most students want.’

Miss Prim must mean there was no toilet. ‘But what do I do if I need to . . . ?’

‘Florence is not used to city ways,’ Aunt McTavish told Miss Prim.

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