School days, pt. 2
They say that they're the best years of your life. School is all about building our children up to prepare them for the big bad world. My parents scrimped and saved to send me to the best state school that tax money could buy, Calare Public School. Despite having one of the most hideous websites that I've come across in a long time, Calare moulded my young mind into the razor sharp, uhh, razor, that it is today.
Or so I thought. I recently found my 1988 year book, and I'll be damned if I didn't go to school with psychos, deviants and sexual assault victims. So put on your Hypercolour shirt, turn off Who's The Boss and take a trip down memory lane. Well, at least my memory lane.
Closed eyes in my first ever class photo, surely an omen for my later life.
Check out my obvious artisanship, which is more than I can say for this next kid's drawing.
Jesus, it's a pig-zebra-cat! Someone needs to lay off the Care Bear juice.
Man, it really sucks to be her.
Having a blind friend was all the rage in 1988. What sort of sadistic fuck gives a blind child a picture for Christmas?
Spoken by Anna Combis, class 6M. Authorised by Joe Hockey, Canberra.
What. The. Fuck.
That's the way son. Get this right and we'll move on to your mother.
Hey I remember that. That one made the news.
This one is probably my favourite. This kid went on to kill himself on MySpace.
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I am so depressed now. Your school was full of animal abusers, kids with bulldozed homes, abused children, and kids with tragic blind friends. I'm surprised you made it out alive.
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