themselves. His face was lined and wrinkled
and his eyes deep and bright. He was a thin
man, but as his arms held me, I could feel
the power of years working in the mountains
and on the land. His eyes reflected the joy
and sorrow of his life and his grieving for his
recently departed wife. His hands were big
and rough and yet gentle and kind, full of
love and a lifetime’s dedication to the land.
Old Mr. Clark’s stories would all start the
same way. I would snuggle in close for protection,
and he would take a long sip of his
scotch. “Back before the war,” he would start,
“the big war, this land was wild and untamed….”
And the stories would flow out of
him like winds from the past. The stories of
my land.
Another adult who inspired me was Father
Delaine, our parish priest. Every week he
would come to our classroom and tell us stories
from the Bible. He would tell of people
riding camels through the desert and of slaves
and kings and pyramids and pharaohs. The
religious meaning completely escaped me—I
was mesmerized by the people and the places.
When either Old Mr. Clark or Father Delaine
told stories, I would feel joy bubbling out of
me. Oral history, the history of a people preserved
through storytelling, is very powerful.
And in my case, these stories, with their
strong connection to the world and the outdoors,
were a strong influence in my developing
a love of learning.
Choice
Growing up in a small rural community,
there did not seem to be many choices in life.
Most kids would do a number of years at the
local school then move on to work on the
farm, find a wife at the bachelors’ and spinsters’
ball, and settle into a quiet, simple life.
From an early age, I knew this was not the
life I wanted. My parents believed strongly in
not influencing us children on the direction
our lives would take. But I have vivid memories,
from age 10 or 11, of deciding that my
life’s plan was to embark on a discovery of
this planet.
What were the influences that planted the
seed in my mind that Merriwa was not my
destiny? To answer this, I have to go back to
when I was five- or six-years old. One of my
sisters had moved to the United States after
finishing school and would send us gifts via
airmail. One of my gifts was a series of books
by Ivy Wallace about a rabbit called Pookie.
It was the first of these books that forged the
path to my future.
Pookie was not an ordinary rabbit. He
was born with two little flimsy wings which
his mother would tie up in tight bows. He
wanted to sleep all day, even at meal times.
When his mother Rabbit tucked them
brothers and sisters all into the big leaf
bed at night, Pookie was full of bunny hops
and bouncing. This kept everyone awake.
(Wallace, 1946)
The story goes on to describe how Pookie
did not fit in anywhere, least of all at school.
This story resonated with me so strongly that
a phrase in the middle of the book became
the drum that beat in my head for my entire
life. Pookie’s teacher, cross with him for falling
asleep in class, told him he should leave
school and go out and seek his fortune. But
Pookie did not know what a fortune was, and
for the rest of the book, he goes on adventures
to try and find it. His fortune ended up being
the thing that made Pookie happy. My mother
would read this book over and over again, and
when I learned to read I would read it myself.
Torn and tattered now, that book still sits in
the children’s closet of our farm in Australia.
I was able to seek my own fortune by spending
a number of years traveling around the
world, looking for a place to set my sack and
to find direction for my life. I discovered it
first in environmental education and now in
Montessori. The choice to find my own fortune
allowed me to discover my own education,
dreams and interests, and in doing so
fulfilled me.
Multi-Age Learners
Multi-age learning environments seem to
me to be as natural as falling off a log. In my
community, children from many age groups
learned and played together. Much of what
I learned growing up on the farm was from
my older brothers. On long hot summer days
we would spend hours in the creek swimming
and skipping rocks. I learned how to replace
the spark plug on the lawnmower from my
brother. I learned how to shoe a horse from
my father, and I learned how to dig for yams
in the mountains from a neighbor boy.
I also learned to be streetwise and to question
when asked to do something. For example:
My three older brothers had been spending
weeks building a go-cart with an engine removed
from our old lawnmower. The frame of
the cart was made of wood and iron, strapped
together in many ingenious but perhaps lessthan
stable ways. The big day arrived when the
prototype go-cart would go for its debut run.
I, of course, was there to witness its maiden
voyage. There was a lot of back and forth between
my brothers as to who would be the
first to ride in this cart. The back and forth
was not because everyone wanted to ride, it
was more because no one wanted to be first
in case the thing fell apart. Being the youngest
of the four, it was decided that I should be the
first to ride. I was strapped in with my father’s
In my community,
children from many
age groups learned and
played together. Much of
what I learned growing
up on the farm was from
my older brothers
old army belt, and the engine was fired up. I
was given strict instructions that I was only
to release the brake when I was told. In releasing
the brake, the go-cart would plummet forward.
However, I was given no instructions on
the steering of the go-cart. With the engine
revving at full RPMs, my brothers set me in
motion and I flew directly toward the nearest
tree. Lesson learned: Beware of some honors
that are bestowed on you.
When I went to boarding school, I learned
from my prefect how to conduct oneself in a
large school environment; he taught me how
to make hospital corners on my bed and how
to polish my shoes so they shined. And before
that, in the one-room schoolhouse, I learned
that there were a lot of children just like me,
and there were a lot who were very different.
I learned whom to ask questions of and who
could be relied upon to give the right answers.
I learned whom to trust and whom to avoid.
As I got older, I learned to mentor those
younger than me: who to show how to make
ant traps; who was trustworthy and respectful
and who was not. I learned that it is advantageous
at times to garner the advice of an older
16 TOMORROW'S CHILD © OCTOBER 2020 WWW.MONTESSORI.ORG
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