March 31, 2007

Boarding School

Filed under: My Life, School — happychick @ 6.38p03

I live at a Boarding School. An all-girls Catholic Boarding School in Australia, to be a little more precise. By no means am I Catholic, or belonging to any other religion- in fact, I’m not even one hundred percent sure I believe in all this “higher power”, “Godly” stuff. But alas, there are few, if any, non-religious boarding schools that I know of- so it was a choice of Catholic, or… Catholic.

Although it’s my first year here, and I’ve only physically been at Boarding for a little over three months, it has occurred to me just how uncommon my situation is, and just how much insight I can give from an insiders point of view.

Back to basics- those of you who’re familiar with my blog will know most of the story, so I’ll sum it up for ya’ll quickly.

My Mum and my Step Dad are public servants, working in a little town no-one’s heard of and, if they have, it’s not for the “friendly community” aspect of it all. Put simply, my town is, well, there is no simple way to put it- it’s not a nice place to live. We knew that when we moved there over a year ago, and I know it even more today.

I spent three terms (a semester and a half) at the public high school in that town. I’d never go as far as to say it was a “bad experience”. I made a lot of friends, learned a lot about country town culture and, amid it all, fell in love.

Don’t stress too much, this isn’t about to turn into a soppy love story of any kind.

So, we come to the move to boarding. The problem wasn’t me- I wasn’t some sort of drunken juvenile delinquent sent away to school because her parents couldn’t handle her.

The town school itself was a joke. In desperate need of government funding, 23 teachers short, and no kind of order or discipline at all- surprisingly enough, Mum didn’t think I’d be all too safe any longer amongst the drug addicts, rapists, stabbings and teacher bashings.

So she shipped me across the state to live with my Nan. I spent the remaining term of year 10 with her, trying, not in vain, to catch up on the three terms of work I did not do. It really opened my eyes as to how far behind I was- how much I’d missed, and, in terms of worldly experience, how much I’d gained.

It was decided between us all that I couldn’t live with Nan for another two years. It wasn’t fair on me- living with my grandparents is a hell all of its own, and it wasn’t fair on them- the olds did not need to raise another teen.

That’s how I ended up here.

Boarding’s nothing like the movies, to start off with- I’ve never been in a pillow fight, no-one sneaks out to do drugs or have quickies with their boyfriends (well, not as far as I know, and I’d like to keep it that way), and, well- I’m not exactly sure how many other stereotypes the media is flogging off these days. Shoot them at me and I’ll let you know the degree of stupidity in them all.

What surprised me the most was the freedom we get- I don’t know if I was expecting some kind of jail- a juvenile correctional facility for farmers daughters and those with half and education- but basically, as far as I’m concerned, the carers, or “House Mums” are about as lenient as they get.

There are a few misconceptions I had about the whole “boarding” experience. The first one was that we pray. Which we do. But not so much as I had expected. We have mass every Saturday afternoon for an hour, prayers every Monday evening for thirty minutes, and every evening we have house prayers, in our respective houses, for about fifteen minutes.

Let me explain the “Houses”. There are 4 Boarding houses, each named after a female saint, for each year group. Eg, my house, Catherine, is for the Year 11’s.

So, as much as I’m sure you’re all exceptionally interested in my boarding experiences, I think I’ll leave you to it for tonight. xxhc

P.S. Mum rang me from Phuket tonight- she and Step Dad are getting another tattoo each on Wednesday… And a quick shout-out to her as it’s her 40th today. J



  1. I’m dark green with envy that i wished i was a teen Aussie girl (can’t be anything worst than this?!!)and come to your boarding school.
    for the pillow fight, embarrassingly the media is really wrong, the pillow fight is for couples and it’s like this: you make sure your partner is asleep, then you take your pillow and place it carefully on her (in your case his) face then press your hands on the pillow and count: 1,2,3…8,9,10 she starts struggling a bit but she stops as you reach 100, then you put your pillow where it had been and sleep, the fight is over LOL!
    and happy birthday to Happychick’s mom. today is my bro’s birthday too and i wanted to say something about this day but for your mom’s sake, i shut my mouth!
    aha and for the new look of your blog: i looked like this *~* then thought i clicked the wrong page then checked the address, so it’s how others feel when i try new themes on my blog, right?!!!
    ****: got my e-mail?!!

    Comment by hellboy — March 31, 2007 @ 6.38p03

  2. yeah and i well called you today too but does that get a mention? nooooooooooooooooooooooooo

    Comment by andy — March 31, 2007 @ 6.38p03

  3. argh! so you did! and darling, it was the highlight of my year 🙂
    Keith- happy b-day to ur bro 🙂
    And I do beleive there is some kind of difference between smothering and pillow fighting….

    Comment by happychick — April 4, 2007 @ 6.38p04

    • You bet.

      Comment by Anonymous — February 3, 2016 @ 6.38p02

  4. a1ZQ3c hi great site thx

    Comment by bob — January 16, 2008 @ 6.38p01

  5. I had no idea that happened to you.

    Comment by Anonymous — February 26, 2011 @ 6.38p02

  6. I’m glad that I never attended a boarding school.

    Comment by Anonymous — February 24, 2015 @ 6.38p02

  7. Attending a boarding school’s like being in a collegian dormitory.

    Comment by Anonymous — December 25, 2015 @ 6.38p12

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

%d bloggers like this: