“There are 700 cases of influenza in Brisbane and the Government is going to close all the schools.” So we were greeted on Monday morning. “Jolly good fun! I know mother will send for me at once. I shall catch the Western Mail on Wednesday.” But mother didn’t send for “me,” and the Western Mail was bereft of its intended passenger. Tuesday, May 6th, dawned on an educational world in chaos. All the schools closed – all the boys and girls turned loose to avoid germs for their bodies by prowling aimlessly in the streets and parks, or gleefully playing in the gutters….
All the boys and girls? Not quite. Wherever in Brisbane or its suburbs stood one of those “houses of sound learning” called a boarding school, there were gathered and kept safe from the threatening plague, groups of boys and girls.
An “influenza” school was certainly a new experience. The name belies itself; it really means a school where influenza does not come. At first our spirits were cheered by all kinds of wild rumours. Everyone was to wear a mask, and by the time the description was complete the article would have done nicely for sue by the Inquisition in a chamber of torture. Everyone was to keep five feet – no, fifty feet – away from everyone else, and Miss Hart would supply compasses to ensure accurate measurements. Everyone was to be rationed; the butcher and baker were to come only once a week and would be allowed to deliver their goods only after being inoculated and passing through an inhalation chamber at the front gate. Sneezing was to be reckoned a capital crime – worse even than stealing from the tuckshop.
At St Margaret’s four or five girls went home, but our numbers were close on 60. Then the question was how to keep that large family happy and employed. For the first week all went well, but as the excitement wore off a few tempers wore out, and for a few days it felt as if the peace of our home might be spoilt by open warfare…. [However], the School administered a dose of common sense, and the result was happiness, due to hard work and harmony.
The day began with drill at 8.45, lessons followed till 1, preparation as done from 2-3.30, and games were played from 3.30-5.30; the evenings were spent in recreation. The VI Form worked hard for a week to arrange our pleasured, and then had to retire owing to the exigencies of work.
On Saturdays matches were played, House versus Hall (Mooloomburram), or one dormitory against another, in basketball and tennis.
Sundays saw us gather for our common worship in the Chapel – influenza regulations did not apply there.
The ill wind of that dreadful epidemic blew the School much good. All who spent that period at St Margaret’s agreed…. We have to be very thankful indeed, not only that we were mercifully preserved from any illness whatsoever, but for many invaluable lessons learnt…. The School work of those girls who were in residence benefited very much indeed by those weeks of concentrated effort. We learned, too, lessons of good comradeship and unselfishness. If we felt homesick or anxious we kept quiet about it, lest our fears or sadness should do harm to others. We remembered that all were living in a cloud of anxiety….
Looking back, we can say that all “played the game” splendidly. It was not easy for the girls to stay at school when holidays at home were possible, and to hear little news of their people in those anxious days. The staff in utter self-forgetfulness worked early and late, often hours overtime, always ready to propose or further any plan to help, and they had no chance of throwing off their worries by escape from daily routine.
Such an experience is not likely to occur again, please God the need will never more arise. But as it had to be, it is good that we can look back upon it as a force that made for the real strength and development of the School, instead of hurting it, as we had somehow fearfully anticipated.”
Ros Curtis