Blue Moon
5 year olds choreographed by prep teacher — a memoir
It is often an amazement to me that the brain can remember anything at all and yes lately I have been remembering being back at Rosanna Golf Links Primary School — back in 1980.
As I have been driving the 4 wheel drive around the fire trails in the red dust in the middle of the night (trying to miss the dingoes and rabbits), we listen to a radio station made for tourists with a mix of old gold songs and it was on here that I heard again — the song ‘Blue Moon’ — thereby catapulting me back to Melbourne Australia, 1980.
‘Blue Moon’ by ‘The Marcels’.
This is the exact song.
So let’s go back to what happened.
I remember being quite stressed out by first year of primary school. There were multiple reasons. My mum and dad had divorced. I went to two different primary schools at each half year juncture. I now lived with my uncle and my mum and my brother.
I missed going to Kindergarten and its format that I had grown accustomed to over 3 years. I was used to being looked after by early childhood educators so my mother could attend University. I ruled Kinder and had my own section there where I knew ‘that area is mine’. Primary School was as far as I was concerned not nearly as good as Kindergarten for things like food. I liked the Fish Fingers and Tomato Soup at Kindergarten. I liked taking a break to have some cut fruit and do some playdough time. I would sit up very straight in my little plastic seat and look about at all the people who were ‘my sized’ like I was at a serious dwarf convention. Like Union Delegates we meant something at Kindergarten — you only had to look around — we had the place monopolized; with small toilets, small furniture, small beds the entire place was a fun park made for us. I didn’t smile about these wins; but I knew (as I looked about stoney faced at my compadres), we all were well cared for here. (Also now that my brother attended Kindergarten too — I didn’t have to worry — he was looked after).
Primary School number 2 though was entirely different. No meals organised here. I found having the whole teacher rushing around above our heads while we remained fairly motionless at a table — stressful. I didn't like the way the teachers spoke and moved around us like helicopters with megaphones. I felt like my ears were craning for someone speaking another language. I found school class recesses (and being made to go outside into the cold); a very strange foreign idea and doing that repetitively - a bit like some sort of torture plan. Bitumen with painted lines and lots of concrete shaped in grey 3dimensional shapes seemed like I was in an industrial wasteland and all the beauty had left my life to make way for cold, noise, huge spaces, no food and scared little people with winds that blew dust and sharp leaves in your eyes even if you scrunched your face up.
Get Rachelle Australis’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I remember being paired up with Ashley. He had brown hair and brown eyes. He was the opposite of me with my blonde hair and my blue eyes. I was not very happy as I had been looking for a husband and I had picked Andrew. He fit the bill. He had blonde hair and brown eyes and his hair glinted in the sun like a crown of gold. I had attempted chasing him about the schoolyard on some breaks in order to kiss him but he seemed to not like me.
I was the new girl and he seemed to get other kids involved while I was more confused on the setback as I was a good catch due to my hair. Grandma had made it very clear that if I brushed my hair a hundred times I would be a Princess and frankly I had been doing all the right things.
As far as I was concerned there was not much to life but find your Prince, be a good woman (with a good heart like Cinderella) and settle down and have some kids. As far as I was concerned the sooner that started the better, as I was tired of living with my Mum and her antics. My Uncle too was becoming a bit hit and miss and hardly even came home anymore. I didn’t like looking after my brother because he scared me the way he would just stand and scream until he was hyperventilating and red and puffy.
So having to touch Ashley for me was really not something I was interested in. The teacher was however loudly running around us like a crazed sheep dog and had it in her mind that we were to put on an end of year performance for the parents. I internally rolled my eyes behind my wide princess poker face I felt this was an irrational and uncaring idea that was immediately useless because it was not with my potential husband Andrew. I couldn’t see how performing with a different male would be of use to my mother or my uncle. It just wasn’t Andrew and only he had a godlike status in my mind as if just turning to look at him he had a halo because he was picked by a celestial arena to be with me — he just didn’t know it yet.
The lady paired us all up across the floor in male to female pairs and had us do a simple dance such as would be funny to see Oompa Loompas do where we held hands and sort of moved out and in toward each other in time to the music of Blue Moon. I remember being beside myself and kind of crying in frustration at the whole thing. I felt Ashley was scared too. I didn’t get the feet right. We were 5 years old.
I remember the teacher and her big mouth that moved fast and had big teeth and a big nose and and her jaw. I remember her joy at believing we were starting to get the weird dance she had concocted in her mind like a crazed Gargamel out of the Smurfs. For me I found it hard to hold my arms up above my head for so long. To me this was not dancing. Dancing was sitting on the floor watching my mothers dance group leaping across the hall in front of the wall of mirrors like Gazelles in a forest. They all wore pretty leotards. The music was tasteful classical. My mother told me repetitively this wasn’t normal classical ballet — this was modern dance. My mother was magnificent. Even if she had black hair she was hands down one of the most beautiful women on the planet.
I didn’t want to do the hysterical dwarf dance with Ashley for the teacher but we had to. I didn’t like where my life was going. I never got the dance down pat. It was too hard for me. None of the parents seemed to care everyone laughed the house down out of cuteness and humour which again reinforced that really I now officially hated school. I felt sorry for Ashley that he didn’t have a partner who at least got the timing of the dance, but I just couldn’t.
Don’t play that song — please don’t.
*** No truthfully, there is a bitter sweetness and a silent laughter in these memories even if I can feel exactly how upset I was at the time. I totally can see the teachers plan from here in 2026. At the time though hearing the song get replayed over and over again it was just feeling like the end of the world!
