The Unit

I still remember when Brain Chase (Vice Principal) came to find me one muggy morning (aren’t they all in Darwin?) - I was teaching at Nightcliff High School in the early 1980's.   Brian was one of those people that you had a very hard time saying “no” to, he was chock full of energy and verve and more often than not he had a huge grin on his face – now you trying saying no to that!   

He found me with one of my classes and asked to see me in the corridor, not really thinking too much of it I got the class working on their next science experiment.   He leaned in closely and said that one of the teachers had called in sick and that he needed me to step in on a particular assignment that he had to deal with.  My initial response was “sure – no problem”.  He stared into my eyes and said that it wasn’t a conventional class but something special and that I should go to see him just before the end of lunch to discuss it further.  

Ariel photo of Nightcliff High almost
bordering the Arafura Sea

I had often had taken the kids who were thrown out of classes or kids who were in trouble and spent time with them, helping them blow off steam.  This consisted more often than not of playing full contact Gridiron (American football  but with no equipment – usually shirts and skins) on a grassy field out near the schools car-park, wherein the more scrapes you got and the harder you hit and were hit the better the kids loved in.  I always played along just to make it interesting…(remember these were the 80’s).   So I really didn’t think too much about it as I sauntered into his office toward the end of lunch, which was a situated just a few steps from the main staff room.

He asked me to close the door and take a seat, he had a worried look on his face and I started to get little uneasy about what he was about to tell me.  He started to talk slowly not really wanting to make eye contact; he explained that inside the school there was a special Aboriginal Unit.   Now that’s strange I thought to myself, I had taught at the school for more than two years and I hadn’t heard of any special Aboriginal unit.  

Apparently the unit had been around for many years, but was hidden within plain sight of everyone at the school.   So I asked where it was?   He said it would be better if he showed me, and that he expected that this conversation should be kept between him and me.   It was important that this didn’t become common knowledge, it seemed all very clandestine but agreed to go along with Brian’s request out of the respect I held for him. 

We walked to the main quadrangle of the school, by this time all the kids were either in class or about to head into class so the space was pretty deserted.   We walked to what I had always thought was the air conditioner compound for the school, and as we entered the depths of this space I realized that in fact there was a small building sitting inside the ring of air conditioner units humming quietly away. 

A recent photo of
Nightcliff High School students

It was eerily quiet as we approached the building, and still not really knowing what to expect I was stunned to see a class of more than 30 full-blooded aboriginal kids sitting in desks (I found out later from Brian that they all were staying with relatives or extended family near the school and that this program had been set up many years before as alternative to local settlement schools, but clearly still not integrated into the school proper). 

As we entered you could of heard a pin drop as their heads craned around almost in unison as we entered – still not a single sound punctuated this surreal place, their eyes following us as we moved to the front of the single room.   I remember watching the faces as I passed, hearing the sound of the overhead fans whirring away and the soft gusts of breeze being pushed around the room by the ever-rotating blades, but not a single sound.

Brian introduced me to the class saying that I would be the instructor for the afternoon and that we were going to work on some science.   As he was getting ready to leave he leaned into me and told to ensure that students left school 30 minutes earlier than all of the other students of the school and that this was also very important…

So feeling just a tad out of sorts as he made a hasty retreat I asked them to get out their books and pens…still complete silence and not a single student moved.   I looked enquiring at the faces and asked again, some of the braver students turned to look to the back of the room…what was going on here I thought?   Then without warning all the students began taking out their books and pens.  Perhaps they were still trying to get used to the way I spoke – “speak slower I thought to myself”.

Most classes in the regular school environment the noise levels were a controlled form of chaos, so pretty similar to the sound of an F15 fighter jet taking off.   To be honest I was feeling a little unnerved by the whole situation, after all just finding out about the unit to start with had been a shock, then that coupled with the complete and utter lack of noise had thrown me completely off.

The orignal school buildings constructed
in the late 1960's

Trying to get back on track I started asking questions – rather simple ones, you see this class was a mixed class of ages so I was trying to keep it relatively easy so that I could gauge where to really dig in with the lesson.   My first question was met with complete silence.   My second I pointed to a girl in the front row asked her a question, she averted her eyes but knew I was asking her a question…still no response.   Now I was beginning to feel a little frustrated with the situation and felt like a new substitute that they were testing.

I followed up with a third question to boy in the second or third, but instead of looking at me he just turned again to the back of the room and looked besieging at someone or something, I couldn’t quite figure it out which.    All of a sudden an older boy stood up at the back of the room and in a thickly accented tribal English tried to answer the question.   Now I was totally confused…   I thanked him and asked him to take a seat.

So I tried again, asking another question of another student but with the same reaction – the same boy in the back stood and answered.   Feeling a tad frustrated with what was going on I asked him his name – “Freddie” he said, his eyes looking down.   Thanks Freddie but lets have someone else answer the question next time I remarked.   I felt like they were taking advantage of me, but I just didn’t know the complexities of what was going on in this class.

The class was a complete disaster, so instead of doing any form of science I reverted to reading a story to them, perching myself on the desk at the front of the class and reading to them for the remainder of the class.   So put their heads down, some yawned and looked disinterestedly around the room but a handful seemed genuinely interested and listened intently.   At 2:00 pm sharp I dismissed the class and went to find Brian.

I found him in his office, a rueful smile played on his lips as he asked me how it went?   I carefully explained to him the dynamics of the class and that it had been an unmitigated disaster.   He told me that the Unit as it was known was based on tribal customs.    So what does that mean I asked?   It means that only Freddie as the tribal elder can answer any question from a white man…(thanks – good information if he had given me that little tidbit before I went into the class, although it wouldn’t have made an iota of difference as I was oblivious to complexities of tribal customs in any event).

He was pleased that it had gone so well…    Gone so well I asked completely confused?   Mate didn’t you hear me?   All I could do was read them a story.   Brilliant he said – thank you.  He reminded me of our commitment not to tell anyone of this experience.

TW circa 1985

I was fortunate enough to have the privilege of going back to fill in on a number of occasions over the ensuing months now that I had been “initiated”, each time taking in just a little more time to observe the nuances and cadence of the customs within the class.

On these subsequent visits, Freddie and the others would smile brightly as I walked into the class, becoming just a little more at ease and friendly toward me, but now knowing the dynamics – I would direct the questions to class but look to Freddie for his answer.  Freddie wasn’t always able to offer me the answer I was looking for strictly speaking, but I was getting a whole lot richer for my experience with the kids from the Unit.  

This is one of my best memories from my early teaching career and by far the most memorable!