LAST DAZE.... (part 3)

It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh...

The summer break of 1994/95 was a hard time for me.  Matty had recovered and was now at home on 'sickness benefits'.  Christine was working day shifts Monday to Friday and I was between teaching jobs.  Thankfully Taxi's Combined were happy to employ me full time during the break and I returned to 5 nights a week.

It wasn't just because of Matty.  It wasn't just because Christine was one of the executives, it was also because I was one of their top employees.  I was, by this time, an 'A' grade operator which signified that I could perform all the skill sets in the radio room.  I was the fastest telephonist, I was really good at operating the disabled taxi service and dealing with the difficult needs of their customers, I was a competent supervisor, and above all I was on really good terms with both the employees and employers.

I had just completed a successful two terms at Camperdown, with the promise of being employed the following term so I should have been on top of the world.  I wasn't.  I was watching one man I loved slowly waste away and desperately missing another young man who I couldn't be with anyway.

I filled my mornings getting stoned, walking my dog, and returning home to clean the house and organize lunch for Matty before I left for work.  Some days were better than others with Matty.  He would be cheerful and physically competent and with Christine at work he would occasionally share a cone or two with me before going back to bed to sleep his stone off.  On other days he would be miserable and in pain, unable to feed himself, which I had to do for him, and often too nauseous to want to eat.  However it was important that he did and during these times it would often take up to 2 hours for me to gently but determinedly ensure that he finished his food.  Going to work after that was a joy - I would be mentally exhausted but knew that I had friends there who I could talk to, share a joint with, or just sit with while I cried myself out of my depression.

The two evenings a week we were all home together were the worst.  Either Christine and Matty would spend the whole time in their bedroom, even eating dinner there, or they would sit together like two young lovers who had everything to live for.  I couldn't blame them.  We all knew that Matty had limited time and any chance of him being happy and contented was something I couldn't deny him. 

I just found it hard to deal with.  Matty played us both off - he was a master in that.  When Christine became too controlling he would turn to me just to spite her, often feigning sickness and saying things like 'only Richard knows how to look after me properly'. After one of these evenings, Christine came to me while Matty was sleeping and said she would prefer it if I wasn't at home on my nights off!  I was angry and hurt, but I wasn't surprised.  It took a lot of strength to keep smiling and promise her that I would give them space when I could.

I started spending my nights off either with John and Trudi, occasionally with Kylie, but as she lived so far away it wasn't often. Or I would simply spend my nights out in Newtown, at the gay hotel, in the park, getting stoned and picking up boys and either going home with them or doing it in the cemetery.  If Christine and Matty were still awake when I got home I would go straight to my room and continue bonging.

The person this hurt the most was Matty.  He couldn't understand why I was avoiding him and I couldn't tell him.  If I had I know he would have got angry and possibly aggressive with Christine. 

Summer holidays over and I was offered another year at Camperdown. For various reasons (me being a teacher there was one of them) many new enrolments from the surrounding suburbs of Glebe and Forest Lodge (both schools where I had previously taught) arrived.  In six months Camperdown had gone from a school facing closure through lack of numbers to a school where we had enough pupils to form 3 permanent classes - though not enough to qualify for a full time permanent teacher. 

Initially I was given a Year 2/3/4 class of about 22 students.  Teaching across grades is difficult as you have to run separate programs for each grade at the same time but it was something I was able to do successfully. On top of the programming difficulties I also had to cope with the emotional and behavioural differences of the class.  When I was asked by Carol (the Year 5/6 teacher) if I would take 4 Year 5 boys from her as they were not 'mature enough' to cope in her class my task became even more difficult.  I handled the challenge with ease and the extra workload was helpful in keeping my mind off my home worries.

Talking about this class will be another chapter in itself.  It was to become a dramatic and life changing year for me. This became evident when I took the 4 Year 5 boys into my class.  One of them was Nuno's brother Jack.

After a few weeks I noticed that he was avoiding my Aboriginal boy David (the one who had tried to get me to chase him on my first day).  He would go to great lengths to sit as far away from him as possible and during break times he would hang inside the classroom until I left, always walking outside with me.  If I was on playground duty he would spend his time walking at my side.  If I wasn't then he would follow me to the teacher's room and be waiting outside for me to come out. At the end of the day he would wait for me to finish and walk home with me.  I couldn't get anything out of Jack.  He wouldn't tell me what the problem was only saying that he didn't have any friends to play with.

Having been a victim of school yard bullying myself it wasn't long before I realised that something was going on between the two boys.  David was smart enough not to touch Jack, but I could see the silent looks of intimidation that he was sending Jack.  Although David and I were good friends he firmly denied that anything was going on when I quietly asked him about it.  After a few weeks I asked the school secretary to contact Jacks parents and have them come and speak with me.

Due to Jack's father working shift work and his mother nursing another baby it was nearly two weeks before we could arrange a meeting.  Carol took my class with hers and played a movie in the school hall so I had both time and privacy with Jack's parents.

To cut a long story short, it turned out the issue had nothing to do with Jack and everything to do with Nuno.  On hearing them mention Nuno my hear skipped a beat.  I had smoked dope with their son and come very close to sleeping with him.  My career would have been stopped short had they known.

I had known that Nuno was dealing drugs to his friends.  What I didn't know was that he had been getting his drugs from David's mother! This incestuous community would have big impacts on my life over the next few years.  I knew David's mother was a dealer so that didn't shock me.  When they told me that Nuno owed David's mother $250 and she had sent heavies to beat Nuno up all the pieces fitted together. 

That was why Nuno had disappeared overnight, he had been sent to live with his uncle in the outer suburbs, and that was why Jack and David were at odds with each other. What I didn't know was that the harassment had gone way beyond reason and David's mother was now sending her heavies around to Jack's house threatening the family.  There was no way they could pay the money back and being immigrants they were terrified of calling the police as they believed that the family could be split up or possibly sent back to Portugal as only the younger children had Australian citizenship.  The parents and the older children still had a year before citizenship would be granted.

I assured them that the issue of Nuno dealing drugs was only minor and that there was no possibility of him being deported but they still didn't want the police involved.  I told them to leave it with me and I would ask a friend of mine who was a Justice of the Peace what could be done.  I promised them that no names would be mentioned and I would do all I could to help them sort out the issue.  To say that they were happy was an understatement.  They cried, they hugged me and more importantly they believed me.  I actually didn't know what I could do for them at the time but by the end of the day I did.

I rang one of the 'normal' parents who I knew often looked out for David and asked them if they could have him stay with them for the evening as I had to speak with David's mother.  They picked him up with their two boys at the end of the day and told me to 'be careful'.  It was a small community and they knew his mother better than I did - what they didn't know was that I had dealt with drug dealers for many years so my only fear was that she wouldn't let me in the house.

I went home, rolled a few joints, got a taxi to Glebe, stopped at the bank and withdrew $250 and then went round to David's house. I knocked and knocked and knocked for about 5 minutes but received no response.  As I was about to give up one of the neighbours, whose child I had taught at Glebe, came out.  On seeing me she asked what I was doing there and when I told her that I was worried about David and wanted to speak with his mum she told me to wait while she went round the back and got David's mum. 

David's mum was more scared of me than I was of her.  Initially she believed 'the little bastard' had done something bad and that was why I was there.  When I said that it was about Nuno she went pale.  In welfare communities it seemed that a class teacher was almost as powerful as the police.  She was even more shocked when I asked to sit down and pulled a joint out of my cigarette packet and lit it.  We shared a joint and a cup of tea (in dirty cups!) and I explained that the situation couldn't go on.  I said I understood that she was angry over the money and probably owed it to her dealer so she had every reason to be upset.

When she explained that it was her boyfriend who Nuno owed the money to I asked her to get him to come over.  In the 30 minutes or so before he arrived we had smoked another joint and had another cup of tea and were the best of friends.  I told her about my past (not all of it, just the drug taking part) and she said 'no wonder all the kids love you, you ain't like a normal teacher'.

Her boyfriend (at least 10 years younger than her) arrived and she introduced me as 'David's cool teacher'!  He was terrified when she explained why I had come.  He thought I was going to call the police.  I said I could but that wouldn't help anyone.  'You could go to prison for dealing drugs to a minor, David's mum could be charged with being a dealer and an accessory, David could end up in foster care, and Nuno's parents would still be terrified that you would get them.'

The solution was easy, if expensive for me.  I would hand over the $250 on the condition that the matter was finished.  David would be told to go easy on Jack, Jack's family were not to be bothered again and most importantly they were never to let Nuno deal drugs for them again.  I promised to leave the matter there but with a warning that if any of the conditions were not met I would not hesitate in going to the police.  We sealed the deal with a line of cocaine (besides enjoying the occasional line I wanted them to believe that I was not concerned with their drug selling business and, you never say no to a dealer!). I must say it was probably one of the most enjoyable parent/teacher nights I would ever have.

Mission accomplished.  The only real issue was when I left that half the neighbourhood, children I had taught and their parents, were waiting outside to chat with me.  I was not only the flavour of the neighbourhood but possibly the only respectable person that had ever been inside David's house. I'm sure half the parents knew I was off my face, but then again half of them probably were too.  I managed to escape, eventually, despite the numerous offers of dinner and walked home.

I was buzzing.  High on both drugs and my accomplishments.  I could organize other people's issues but my own life was an emotional wreck.....









  

LAST DAZE.....(part 2)

It's my direction, it's my proposal
It's so hard, it's leading me astray

My obsession, it's my creation
You'll understand, it's not important now

All I need is co-ordination
I can't imagine, my destination
My intention, ask my opinion
But no excuse, my feelings still remain

That's the way it was for me.  I had a new direction.  I had proposed to start living my life for me.  I was obsessed with two beautiful boys, I was desperately trying to co-ordinate my career with my lifestyle and yes, my feelings, deep down, remained the same.

The new class was my saviour.  I jumped in with relish and it became the sole purpose of my life.  I enjoyed every day with the children.  They reminded me of myself, lost in time and space with no prospects at home but together we formed a positive happy family where respect, love and security abounded.  The next 3 years would be the happiest and most remembered times of my teaching career.

I was so busy during the first few weeks with the class that Christine's return hardly registered.  I would spend my evenings working out individual programs for the specific needs of my class members and planning the following days activities.  Each afternoon I would return home, get stoned, walked the dog and usually Nuno was there waiting for me.  We walked, we talked we laughed and we loved without sin.  Just being together and sharing was enough for me.  Nuno was smart enough to realise that I was protecting myself and him and didn't push too far.

On Carol's recommendation (the Year 5/6 teacher) I was tutoring Nuno's brother Jack 2 or 3 times a week at home.  Poor Jack was the nicest, gentlest but dumbest boy you can imagine.  In class he was barely noticeable and always struggled with lessons.  At home I had a computer where we would sit and go through computer lessons in Maths and English.  These were all CD rom programs specifically designed for children and Jack, who had no mentoring at home both enjoyed and excelled during these times.  Most of his learning for the last part of the year was done at my house where he had the freedom to ask questions, take chances and start showing the confidence which he could never show in the classroom.

During the first term he would walk home with me and we would spend an hour doing these lessons.  When they were over Nuno would arrive and together we would walk Jack back home and then continue our dog walks.  It was a rewarding and special time for me.

When I returned home both Matty and Christine would have returned from work.  For the first few weeks we spent time together, Christine and I cleaning and cooking, then all three of us sitting together watching TV.  I was strong enough to limit my smoking to either bedtime or with the occasional quick puff in my room during ad breaks.  I had spoken with Christine and we came to an understanding that she and I would put aside any differences, or jealousies, in order to give Matty a happy, harmonious household.

It wasn't easy for either of us.  For me I would have to sit and watch the two of them kissing and cuddling like teenage lovers every night and for her she would have to watch me being the one Matty turned to whenever he was feeling sick - which was starting to happen frequently.  Christine either didn't have the ability to play nurse or Matty just didn't feel comfortable with her during these times.

His ailments were both frequent and unexpected.  Sometimes it would be just fatigue, sometimes he would have uncontrollable vomiting, bed wetting and loss of bowel control.  It must have been hard for Christine to be pushed away during these times and then watch me take control and ease Matty's discomfort.  It wasn't long before she began to get jealous and our truce starting falling apart.

Instead of making matters worse I decided to stand back and let her have her way.  I gave them time to be together, starting to spend my leisure hours either in my room or out with friends from Taxi's Combined.  This was when I would meet two amazing people who would be my best friends for the next 7 years.

John and Trudi (both worked at Taxi's) and were my drug dealers.  They were both in their 40's and had a young daughter.  I remember the first time I shared a cab home with Trudi after one of my weekend shifts.  At that time equal employment opportunities were still on sketchy ground in Australia.  At Taxi's Combined they had a policy which gave female staff a free cab ride home if they finished at 11pm but male staff weren't entitled to the same until midnight.  As my shift finished at 11pm and I happened to live near to Trudi she offered to share her cab with me on the nights we worked together.

The first time we shared I was stunned when she asked the driver if she could smoke in the cab and when he said it was fine she pulled out a joint and lit it!  We all shared it and consequently Trudi and John became close friends as well as the people I would buy drugs off for years.  Both Trudi and John were ex heroin addicts who had gotten their lives back together after a past equally as off centre as mine.  Trudi's brother and sister had notoriously been the last Australians to be executed in Thailand for drug smuggling a few years before.

I'm digressing.  Long story short, my drug habit which I had started to feel in control of, started to sky-rocket.  I managed to stick to my conviction of not going to school stoned but from the moment I came home I was packing cones, rolling joints to take on my dog walks, and returning home to spend the evenings in my room smoking bong after bong after bong.

If I wasn't doing it at home then I was visiting Kylie or John and Trudi and spending hours there getting stoned before returning home to continue smoking. I was even taking every opportunity at my taxi shifts to duck out and have a joint whenever I had a break.  I realise now that until that time getting stoned for me had been generally a social and recreational habit, now it was becoming a form of compensation.

Compensation for the agony of watching Matty and Christine getting closer and closer and pushing me further away.  Compensation for wanting Nuno but being strong enough to resist the temptation and compensation for the lack of sex that I had enjoyed so easily and frequently and compensation as a form of stress relief from having such a dynamic and challenging class to manage - even thought I loved my role as both teacher and mentor it wasn't easy dealing with children from such deprived backgrounds.

Halfway through the last school term Nuno suddenly disappeared.  It took me weeks to find out what had happened to him and during this time Matty also took sick and was hospitalized.  He had started to have lesions which were too obvious to hide and these were both mentally and physically affecting him.  The doctors couldn't identify any specific illness but for nearly a month he was in the AIDS unit of the hospital.  He was suffering from nausea, fevers, sporadic changes in heartbeat and had no control over his bodily functions.  Christine took extended leave from work and I would spend a few hours each afternoon after school giving her a break before returning home.

Home to a house empty of anyone except my dog.  No Matty, no Nuno and even no Christine who was spending most of her time sleeping at the hospital.  It was a very lonely and depressing time for me and my only compensation was my teaching, my dogs and marijuana.....

LAST DAZE.....(part 1).

Why is the bedroom so cold?
You've turned away on your side.
Is my timing that flawed?
Our respect runs so dry.
Yet there's still this appeal
That we've kept through our lives.

But love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again.

We had 4 months of serenity.  4 months when life was almost normal, when we didn't seem to have a care in the world and 4 months where time seemed to take a step backwards to our early days when it was just the two of us.  Looking after each other,  being there for each other and seemingly having few cares in the world.

Matty was back at work and holding a position of both responsibility and stress.  He was on the 'disciplinary committee' for reported drivers.  All complaints against taxi drivers once confirmed were given over to him to rule upon.  Even though he was relatively young compared to the drivers he was dealing with he handled the job with ease and a maturity beyond his years.  On top of that, since his return he went public with his condition and there was now nothing to hide from.

Finally I was able to openly invite our work mates around after shifts and spend time with quality friends of both of ours without having to worry about Matty getting annoyed or jealous.  My weekend shifts were a joy.  I loved my job and loved even more knowing that at the end of a shift I could ring home and tell Matty so and so was coming back with me.  He would already have had a few hours sleep and was happy to get back into our normal social routine of late night smokes and listening to music with our friends.  He even began joining in on the occasional smoke with us - it was his choice and I wasn't going to stop him trying to live a normal life.

Sadly for him, and me, a normal life wasn't going to be long for him.  Over the years since he was first diagnosed HIV he had swung erratically between being healthy and unhealthy and between being in control and uncontrollable.  It was just something that neither of us could predict.  We tried to live for the moment whether it was good or bad and seemed to make the most of the good and take the bad head on.  Times would rapidly change, almost without warning, and for both of us things would never be the same again.

It was the third week of the third school term of the year.  I had finished my term at Glebe Public school and apart from the odd day when I was called in to work for them I wasn't getting much teaching work.  Matty was at work and I had the Friday to myself.  I had, as usual, gotten stoned, and spent the morning doing housework and had just returned from walking my dog when the phone rang.

It was Camperdown Public school wanting to know if I was available to come immediately and fill in for the rest of the day.  It was only the urgency in the Principal's voice which led me to agree.  It was around 11am and I was still stoned.  I said I needed an hour before I could get there in which time I showered and straightened up as much as I could before walking the 15 minute walk to the school.

(The school is where the trees are and my street runs by the red building.)

I was given a wonderfully warm welcome by the Principal who said that the Year 3/4 teacher was having problems with the class and as she was 7 months pregnant, they wanted me to take over her class immediately.  Unprepared but thankful to be back at my favourite school I was happy to agree but totally unprepared in terms of lessons to start that day.  I was confident that I could wing it - there was just over 30 minutes before lunch and then only an hour and a half session to fill in.

Walking down the corridor towards the classroom I was greeted with the sight of this poor lady literally running out of the classroom being chased by two young boys and the sound of major rioting coming from the classroom she had hurriedly vacated.  The two boys chasing her were obviously Arabic, looked adorable with their big brown eyes, and she was obviously terrified.  Remembering a phrase I had often heard the parents at Belmore North Public School say, I called out 'Yollah!' in a loud voice to the boys.  I don't know the meaning but I knew that it was a phrase used by Arabic parents to control their children.....

The two boys stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me stunned.  'You speak our language?' one of them said. 'Yes I do', I replied.  They turned from demons to angels in an instant.  When I told them I was their new teacher they smiled and took my hand and led me to the classroom.  It was in chaos.  Children yelling, screaming, fighting and not one sitting at their desks.  Definitely not what I had expected and definitely a challenge seeing as I had no work prepared.

Ali and Hassan, my new friends, went ahead and announced me.  Walking in the class fell silent.  Most of the children knew me from before and came rushing up to greet me.  Phrases like ' thank god that old bitch is gone' and ' why did you leave us' ran around the room.  Only one boy, a young aboriginal boy, stayed defiant and when all the others had returned to their seats he continued to run around the room defying me to chase him.  Ali told me his name was David and instead of trying to stop him I simply said 'David, you can run around until lunchtime, but I am going to teach the rest of the class until then so I would be happier if you ran around outside'.

He was dumbfounded.  I hadn't taken up his challenge, I hadn't yelled at him,  he didn't know what to do.  He sat down and for the next half hour listened as I asked all the children I knew to tell me about what they had been doing since the last saw me.  David, along with many of these children,would become my family for the next two and a half years.  Many of them lived locally and quite a few of them lived at Glebe so they all knew me either personally or by reputation.

When the lunch bell rang I was proud to walk my new class out in orderly, well-behaved lines to the eating area where we were joined by my old teaching friend Carrol who had the Year 5/6 class.  She scolded me for leaving them and said that from the start of the year she had pushed for the Principal to offer me a full time position as she was confident I was one of the few teachers she knew who could handle the position.  I was back among friends.  During the lunch break it was decided that the pregnant teacher would be given extended paid leave and that I was officially appointed to the position for the rest of the year  I would stay there for two and a half years.

Matty's timing was as usual totally at the wrong time.  I had winged my through the day at school and returned home with the old teacher's program ready to study it and begin planning my lesson schedule for the remainder of the year.  Normally Matty wouldn't be home until around 5.30pm but at 4pm when I arrived home he was already there, looking white and drained.

He had had an uncontrollable nose bleed during work and had been sent home not long after I had left to go to school.  He was both anxious and annoyed that I hadn't been home nor left him any indication of where I was going.  It didn't matter that my day had been totally unplanned. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be at work while I had been out.  All that mattered to him was that I had not been there for him when he needed me.

Although he was physically okay and there seemed to be no need to take him to the hospital, he was insistent that I had let him down.  After the unexpected and roller - coaster day that I had been through I was in no mood to put up with his tantrums.  I remember telling him to 'get a grip on himself' before he violently lashed out and punched me in the side of the head.  He hit me so hard that it took a few minutes before I realised that I was bleeding severely and managed to drag my stunned self to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror I was horrified to see that when he had punched me his ring had sliced through the top of my ear causing it to split and copious amounts of blood were pouring out and down the side of my face.  There was so much blood that I was certain I would need to go to hospital.  I didn't - the phone was in the same room as Matty and I was terrified that he would hit me again if I tried to use it.  Instead I took a long shower, watching the water run red as it washed over my ear and down the drain until eventually the blood stopped. 

When I eventually came out of the bathroom Matty had gone to his room.  I dressed, got stoned (as usual) and took my dog down to the velodrome.  This was my special space.  An oasis of calm and solitude hidden in the middle of one of the busiest areas in Sydney.  It was rare that anyone else was there and it was big enough to have secluded spots, the neglected and overgrown spaces of urban blight, where I could sit quietly and hide away from the world.  With no one around I often used to marvel at the irony of the fact that it was smack bang in the middle of the two flight paths for Sydney Airport where I would look up into an azure sky and see row upon row of Jumbo Jets lining up to land......wanting for all the world to be able to  be able to get on any of those planes and take off to anywhere but reality.

I remember watching the sun start to set, seeing my dog running wildly around the abandoned concrete track of the velodrome and thinking to myself that things between Matty and I had come to an end.  I couldn't put up with his beatings and abuse any longer and I had to make a decision to start a life for my self even if that meant going without drugs and living in a hostel for a few months.  It was a decision I dreaded and didn't want to have to make.

Out of the blue someone was calling out to me, 'Mr C', Mr C.....'.  When I looked up I saw one of my new class members brother coming towards me.  Nuno was a gorgeous young 17 year old who I knew from his occasional visits to pick up one of his younger brothers or sisters from Camperdown after school.  I had never formally met him but knew him by sight,  The family were Portuguese immigrants who lived less than a block away from me on the same street.  They were a family with 9 children, of whom Nuno was the eldest, and desperately poor.  Both parents worked.  His mother at the hospital doing either day or night shifts and his father worked at a factory doing 12 hour shifts.  Nuno was the eldest and had left school a year before stumbling between poorly paid but hard working jobs or on unemployment benefits.

He let his dog run with my dog and sat down next to me.  Full of excitement and praise.  'Oh my brother Jack is so happy you are his new teacher, my mother is so happy he get good teacher.....' Nuno had come to Australia when he was 12.  Speaking no English his schooling had been minimal, and interrupted as he was the oldest and often had to miss school to look after his siblings while his parents were working, he didn't have much of a chance in life and even today I wonder if he has made something of himself or ended up dead, or behind bars?

When I turned to face him he saw my (now swollen, bruised and bloody ear) and came right out and said, ' Your boyfriend hit you? I kill him'.  It was a small community, where we lived cheek by jowl in tiny terrace houses, nothing was truly hidden and nothing seemed to shock anyone.  When I told him it was not important he said 'you good man and we look after you'.  That was enough to start the tears rolling down my face.  He put his arm around me and then gently kissed me on the cheek.  'Now we share another secret' he said, before opening a pack of cigarettes and pulling out a joint.

I know it was wrong, I know it was illegal, but it was definitely what I needed.  Finally someone after all those long, lonely years understanding me and just being kind because they saw me as both valuable and  vulnerable.  It was the start of both a short platonic friendship and a wake up call to me that I was actually a person with something to give to the world besides blind obedience.......the next morning would be the start of a new me.

Nuno became my new best friend.  We would meet two or three times a week to walk our dogs together, letting them run freely around while we sat and talked.  I explained to Nuno that as his brother's teacher I couldn't give him any marijuana and he didn't have to feel the need to share with me.  It was less of a legal issue than a moral issue to me.  He was almost a grown man and at his age I was working the streets and taking any drug that was offered to me.  As a teacher, and a friend, I didn't feel that it was right to be leading him up the same path.

He was non-plussed and said he always had stuff to share with me.  I thought he was buying it, but would later find out that he was dealing for 'friends' of his and this is how he made extra money and got marijuana to smoke.  I never shared more than a joint with him and always let him smoke most.  He would sit with me and talk about his life, his family, his sorrow at leaving Portugal and his friends.  We used to sit behind the velodrome in a clump of trees in front of a warehouse where no-one could see us.  He always used to put his arm around my shoulder and it became clear that he was keen to be more than just friends.  He was young, hormonal and possibly in need of a father figure who wasn't the absent, strict, catholic person his own father was.

Again it was something I let slip.  In a suburb where sex and drugs were only a few minutes walk away I figured he would be able to work it out himself.  Instead I became his friend, his listener, his advisor and eventually his helper....

Emotionally this was to become one of the hardest periods of my life.  I spent 6 months desperately in love with two beautiful young men.  One of whom wanted to take everything I had and give nothing, the other who wanted to give me everything he didn't have and ask for nothing but friendship and companionship.

The day after Matty hit me (this would be the last time) I was sitting in the dining room with my new class program spread out in front of me on the dining table trying to get myself organized for the rest of the term.  I had to work that evening and the following day so I only had a few hours in which to get my lessons prepared.  I hadn't seen Matty since he had hit me, having returned from my walk and going straight to my room to get stoned and try and think about my choices - should I stay or should I go?

Matty answered that for me.  As usual, after one of his beatings, he was full of remorse, but still adamant that I had deserved it.  If I had been there when he needed me he wouldn't have gotten 'so frightened and angry'!  He made all the usual promises of 'I won't do it again', but then shocked me by asking me to give up my teaching job so I could be there to look after him.  He said he knew he didn't have long to live and that he would possibly be in hospital within weeks.  He needed me to be there for him.

With his beautiful, still scarred face, his sorrowful puppy dog eyes and pathetic announcement he almost had me convinced.  I still desperately loved him, despite what he had put me through, despite the old and new scars (some of which I still bear today), despite the knowledge that he could never reciprocate my feelings.  Almost, until he played his 'trump card' or so he thought.  He said without blinking, if you don't then I will have to get Christine to move back in!

I think he expected me to fall for this immediately and was surprised when I didn't answer straight away.  I remember packing a cone and smoking it slowly and deliberately before saying to him that I needed some time to think and would let him know before I left for work.  I then began sorting through my program until he realised that I was serious and left me alone with the words, 'but you have to tell me before you go'.

F*ck!!!!!  It took nearly 10 years for me to wake up to the reality of him.  He was and always had been a blatant user.  He had taken everything from me over the years.  My money, my sense of self worth, my happiness and still wanted to take more.  'you are a good man' Nuno had told me the day before, 'where did you go' the children had all asked me before falling at my feet like lambs.  I had overcome so many obstacles (mainly Matty) and finally had not only a professional career, but also obvious respect from the community and he was asking me to throw it all away just so I could be there to hold his hand while he died.  I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to to tell him to f*ck off......

I didn't.  In the end I simply said 'Matty, I can't give up everything for you, but I will always be here for you till the end'.  I left for work and by the time I returned home at midnight Christine was already there with an overnight bag.  She moved in the following day.....

LEARNING DAZE.... (part 3)

I was hiding in a room in my mind.
They made me look at myself. I saw it well.
I'd shut the people out of my life.

So now I take the opportunities:
Wonderful teachers ready to teach me.
I must work on my mind. For now I realise..
Everyone of us has a heaven inside.

1994 was a year of real learning for me.  I learned that I could teach and I learned that I could love unconditionally.  I also learned that I could start controlling my behaviours and start making positive changes.

I had one day to myself after finishing my nightmare term at Belmore North Public School.  It was Saturday and I spent the day relaxing with my dog - going for a long early morning walk- and then getting stoned before heading off to do my shift at Taxi's Combined operating the Disabled Transport Radio service.  Home at midnight and getting stoned again before going to sleep thinking I had at least two blissful weeks to myself before I had to make any decisions about my career.

I was awoken suddenly around 4am when Matty came bursting into my room.  My initial reaction was that he was going to hit me and I screamed at him to get out or I would call the police.  When he just stood there and started sobbing I realised something was horribly wrong with him.

Stumbling towards him to switch on the bedroom light he grabbed me and fell into my arms crying.  Besides his wet tears there was something warm and sticky sliding down my face.  Turning the light on I realised that Matty's lump had burst open and was seeping a mix of blood and pus down his neck.  The hole wasn't big but the discharge was.  Vile smelling and literally pouring down his body.  I managed to get him to the bathroom where I used hot water and a hand towel to clean him up and stay the noxious flow.

While waiting for the ambulance to arrive I managed to wrap a sterilized gauze bandage around his neck which seemed to help.  Arriving at the hospital, which was thankfully only a 5 minute drive away Matty was immediately taken to the palliative care unit where the doctors wasted no time in putting him onto a drip, before giving him a local anaesthetic and attacking the discharge with a plastic pump.

I was there throughout the whole horrific procedure, holding his hand and re-assuring him that everything would be okay.  Looking at his horror stricken face and seeing the raw septic flesh being sucked and scraped didn't make me think that it would all be okay.  30 minutes later and they had finished the procedure and administered a sedative into his drip before wheeling him back to a private room where he fell asleep.

I was due to start at the taxi company for my usual Sunday 7am radio shift.  I had to ring them and cancel.  The company is still operating today and now is a good opportunity to say how grateful I was to them and still am for being so wonderful both to me and Matty during this and later times.  With Matty asleep and the doctors assuring me that he would be knocked out for at least 8 hours I headed home.

I couldn't do much sitting there just watching him sleep.  I had my dog to worry about and I needed to be alone and try and deal with what was happening.  As usual I hit the marijuana and then as the sun was coming up I headed out with my dog to the solitude of the old velodrome, where I let my dog run free while I sobbed my heart out.  Back at home I decided to ring Christine.  She was the one person who truly knew what I was going through and the one person I could talk openly with.  She was there in less than an hour.

She let me cry and cry and cry - this was one of the rare times when I had let someone into my life and exposed my self.  Totally vulnerable, feeling hopeless, feeling hurt and knowing that as much as I loved Matty, that he could never allow himself to admit to the same feelings.  I had to admit to myself that I had created my own complex reality and nothing could change that.  I didn't sleep all that day and while I sat bonging and crying Christine took charge of cleaning up the house and cooking dinner for both of us.  At 5pm the hospital rang to say that Matty was awake and had recovered but would be kept in for observation for one more night.

Christine drove me to the hospital and when we arrived I asked her to come with me to see Matty.  It was time for me to start letting go and for him to patch up the wrong he had done to her. I was ready to face the consequences whether they be good or bad.

Surprisingly Matty's reaction was totally the opposite of what I expected.  Although weak and still under the influence of the pain medication he seemed genuinely happy to see Christine.  After making sure he was okay I asked him if he wanted some time with her alone to which he agreed.  When I returned, it was hard to see her sitting beside his bed holding his hand and see Matty smiling.  It was the right thing to do.  He now not only had one person who loved him but two.

Two weeks later he was back at work and looking as if nothing had happened.

In the meantime I had been offered another teaching term at Glebe Public School.  Initially I was told that I would be doing four and a half days (Monday to Friday lunchtime) covering for the class teacher's allotted weekly time off.  On the first morning of term I arrived and was ushered into the principals office.  Here I was told that I was actually going to be working 4 days a week assisting the I.O class and half a day covering my old supervisors Year 6 class.

I.O classes are for 'moderately to severely' mentally challenged children.  This was going to be a repeat of what I had just spent the previous term failing at!  Obviously the shock on my face was readable but the Principal assured me that 'not only was this what I needed after my prior experience' but also that ' I would have help and support'.  Another person I need to thank for throwing me a lifeline when I most needed it.

Totally in contrast to Belmore, the I.O class at Glebe was wonderful.  It was a combined class of children from 5 to 12 years old and run by two truly beautiful ladies.  They guided me and supported me throughout the term.  Leading me gently in the first few weeks until they (and I) were confident enough to let me take small groups to teach individually.  The children were also beautiful.

In the mornings I alternated between the younger and older groups, helping each teacher with basic English and Maths lessons and in the afternoons we came together and did Arts & Crafts and Music or Singing lessons or played classroom games.  Every Wednesday afternoon we took the children on bus trips into the city.  Going to museums, art galleries, The Botanic Gardens or through the shopping arcades.  Even though these events were repeated throughout the term, the children were thrilled every time.

On Friday mornings I joined in with the whole school sports program, taking two groups for 45 minutes of ball games, and in the middle period I had my old class (now in Year 6) back again for 90 minutes of Arts & Crafts lessons.  Occasionally I filled in for other teacher's when they were sick and this gave me back the confidence that I had lost the previous term.  I was the 'cool teacher' at the school and even on my 3 playground duties during the week I can't recall a bad moment.  I was loving every minute of it.

Even though Matty was now working back at Taxi's Combined from 9 -5 and seemingly in a healthy period of his HIV, he was exhausted by the time he got home.  I would be home by 3.30pm and already have taken my gorgeous dog for his daily walk and be preparing dinner for him by the time he arrived.  We started having a 'normal' life together.  I was still smoking pot (something that would take me another 15 years to end) but found that with the contentment of my life I was smoking a lot less than previously.

For most people it would still have been considered heavy smoking, but for me it was a surprise to suddenly realise that I could carry on daily activities without having to reach for a bong before doing them.  I basically managed to cut down from smoking $20+ a night to making the same amount last 2-3 days, only smoking after dinner and before bed. After 10 years of constant, heavy smoking it was both a physical and mental plus for me.

Matty stayed 'healthy' for nearly 3 months.  In that time we were almost the same couple we had been when we first met, happy together and sharing our lives.  When he started becoming sick again it was obvious that it was serious and he was on a downhill slide.  The next chapter of my life was about to begin.....

LEARNING DAZE.... (Part 2).

Ironically, the day before I was due to start my new teaching position the Principal at Camperdown Public School rang me and said she had a position for me.  When I explained that I already had a year's position she was both pleased for me and disappointed.  I was torn between wanting the easy and familiar job which I knew I could do and taking up the challenge of a new school and a whole new set of children with disabilities.

After my success at Glebe I really thought I could do the job.  I also felt a sense of responsibility to the new school and did not want to leave them in the lurch without a teacher.  How I would wish I had been selfish and taken the easy path.

Belmore North Public School was about 30 minutes drive away and located in a largely Muslim area of Sydney. My teaching friend lived close by and she offered to pick me up each morning and drive me to school with her.  In the afternoons however she didn't leave until 5pm as her son did music classes and she would stay behind at school before leaving to collect him.

From the start it was clear that I had made a bad decision.  This was for a number of reasons.  Firstly the children were hostile towards me.  I can understand this now as they had had the same teacher for the whole school lives and suddenly she had left them.  They felt let down and I'm sure in their own, retarded minds, that by rejecting the 'new teacher' that 'Miss' would come back.

Then there was a whole different atmosphere at the school.  I was not made to feel either welcome or offered support, unlike either Glebe or Camperdown where I had experienced friendship, advice and support.  I was given a classroom totally isolated from the rest of the school.  I was in a double classroom on the ground floor of a two floor building - all the other classes were on the upstairs level.  My supervising teacher (a very straight and I'm certain homophobic male) was located upstairs but made it quite clear that any issues I had I should deal with on my own.

Never having taught children with mental or physical disorders I was at a total loss as to how to control them.  No matter what strategies I tried they failed.  The children refused to obey instructions, constantly fought with each other, seemed to take great delight in seeing my frustration and even laughed when I tried to discipline them.  This was usually in the form of threatening to take away privileges (like using the computer or playing games).

The children were all labelled as being moderately retarded.  However they were all mostly very clever and conniving and in some cases dangerous.  I had a class of 13 children, Year 5 & 6 and due to their mental conditions most of them were already starting puberty.  I had one girl in the class who I was constantly having to watch as some of the boys took great delight in trying to fondle her or flash their private parts at her.  Another boy was on medication which he had to take 3 times a day or he would start having uncontrollable temper fits.  I was not authorised to administer the medication so every session, I would have to send him across to the Secretary's office where he would be dosed.

I would have to watch him from the window to make sure that he not only went there but to ensure also that if there were any other children outside (kids usually going to the toilet or on a message) that he would not attack them.  While I was watching him the other kids would run riot and the last half hour of every session was a nightmare of trying to calm them and get some order back in the classroom.

On top of feeling totally abandoned by the other teaching staff, exhausted by the difficulties of teaching this class I was also feeling that I was being deliberately unfairly treated.  This was because I was immediately told that I would have to cover 10 playground duties during the week.  3 mid morning duties and 5 half hour lunch duties (one ever day).  There were 30 playground duties during the week and I was covering one third of them yet there were over 20 teachers.

When I complained to the Principal that I didn't think this allotment was fair he told me that most of the other teachers had 'committee duties' so I had to cover for them.  I soon realised that this was not true but determined not to let them get to me I accepted. So even getting the opportunity to get out of the school and smoke a few cigarettes was limited.

To get home I had to take a 30 minute bus ride to the closest train station and then another 15 minutes on the train and finished off with a 12 minute walk home.  This was just about my only 'me time' during the week.  I was still working Friday and Saturday nights at the taxi company even doing the Radio for the disabled taxi service.  I was specifically asked to stay on by the management as these were the two busiest nights and I was the only person with the skills and patience to handle the job.  It was not only my one 'social escape' for the week but also my one reassurance that I was a worthwhile and capable person.  It also let me keep in touch with my friends who I was no longer allowed to have visit me at home.

Obviously I wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with everything that was happening.  School was crap, home was crap - it felt like my whole life was crap.  Matty revelled in my failure.  He was happy to see me arrive home every afternoon physically and mentally drained and then tell me he knew I 'wasn't cut out to be a teacher'.  When I tried a few times to ring in sick and take a day off he threatened to ring the school and not only tell them that I was lying but that also about my criminal record.  I was trapped.

Towards the end of the first term Matty started to get really sick.  His lump had swollen to about the size of a baseball and the medication was making him constantly nauseous.  Often I would return home to find he had vomited uncontrollably through the house as he tried to make his way to the bathroom.  It was left to me to clean up and then deal with his tantrums or depression.

Everything came to a head two weeks before the end of the first school term.  In the middle of an unusually productive teaching session I suddenly realised that the reason the kids were being so quiet and pretending to work was because one of the boys was crouched down behind the girl student and poking a pencil into her vagina.  I stupidly lost it and yelled at the boy.  He was twice my size and weight and as i advanced towards him he came at me with a pair of scissors and pinned me against the wall.

I couldn't fight him off and as he started screaming abuse at me I got a hold of myself and quietly said I'm not going to fight you so just stab me.  My submission shocked him and even though he was still threatening me he seemed to get confused and possibly realise what he was doing.  I managed to get one of the boys to run to the Principal to get help.  He came back 5 minutes later (the situation was now defused and we were all having 'quiet time') with a note from the Principal which read ' I'm busy now please handle this yourself'.

I handled it myself all right.  In the middle of the classroom I lit a cigarette and calmly walked out of the room, across the playground, past the Principals window and out of the school.  I waited for over 30 minutes for a bus, but being close to lunchtime, no-one at the school even noticed I was gone. At the train station I seriously contemplated jumping under a train and ending it all.  I didn't.  I made it home, walked through the front door and straight into my bedroom.  I locked the door, smoked myself into a stupor while listening to the constant ringing of the phone (obviously the school) and Matty calling me which I ignored.

When I eventually came out of my room, Matty grabbed me and started yelling at me as to why I had ignored him and why I hadn't answered the phone.  It was too much.  I fought back, grabbing him by the shoulders and violently pushing him against the wall telling him if he touched me I would kill him. He was too shocked to respond.  I took my dog and went for a long, long walk before returning home and cooking dinner for a still shocked and quiet Matty. I ate my own dinner in my room after getting stoned again and didn't come out until the morning.
 
That morning I returned to school as normal.  My class was taken by another teacher while I attended a meeting with my supervisor and Principal.  I didn't hold back.  I told them that I would finish the term and leave.  Even when they offered me a 'regular' teaching position I laughed in their faces and told them they could go f*ck themselves.  I really didn't care about the consequences but I think they were scared that I would go to the Teacher's Federation and make a complaint or possibly sue them - which I had every right to do.  I just wanted out of there.

Amazingly the last two weeks of the term turned out to be annoyingly calm.  The kids were well behaved and even begged me to stay on and keep teaching them.  I hated them even more for that.

There were no sad goodbyes on my last day.  I left the school with hardly a word to anyone.  Two days later Matty's lump burst and life would take another change.....