I went to two fantastic high schools. The first, "Our Lady of Good Counsel College" was never referred to as anything but "The Range". Or, supposedly "The Fridge on the Ridge". It was years before I had any clue what the local boys were on about . My mum, two aunts and my mother-in-law all boarded there. My great aunt and my great aunt-in-law were nuns who lived in the convent at one stage, they were best of friends.
The centre of the school was a beautiful, old hall built of wood with a tower surrounded in filagree iron lace. If we were lucky enough we were allowed up to the tower to look out across the school and the town. When we were in Grade 10 a group of us that liked to call ourselves 'The Rejekts' (because we figured we weren't) wrote our names in niko pen on the walls of the spiral staircase that took us upwards. I suspect they were painted over and don't remain for posterity.
On the eve of my last day there my brother went up to the school in the late of night. He carried with him a scarecrow that I made out of wood, one of my uniform dresses and a stuffed head I carefully sewed. The scarecrow was hoisted up the flagpole, ready for my last day. It stayed there long enough to get a laugh and cause some comment and I was never discovered as the culprit. I wonder if the teachers had a drink or two around a bonfire later that day, as they watched their 'student' burn?
Now, as a teacher, the thought makes me laugh as much as it did to think up the whole silly prank in the first place.
