Teacher Log: Uluru (P. 2)

Alice Springs is a desert town. No matter how high the temperatures rise during the day, at night the air can drop to freezing. That first night while wrapped like a cocoon in my sleeping bag, the air was irritably cold, as I was just falling into an alpha state, in a loud whisper,

“Craig! Craig, are you awake?”

Opening my eyes, at first I assumed it was a student. “Who is out there?!”

“It's Jasmine.”

'Okay', I thought, 'This is getting weird. Does this woman want to come into my tent and watch me sleep through the night?'

“What do you need, Jasmine?”

“Olga needs to talk to you about something.” Can you come to her tent, and bring a cup.”

Olga was the teacher with the longest tenure in the group. In fact, this is her 27^th year at the school. A Ukrainian immigrant, she reminded me of a peasant woman from a Dostoevsky novel. Olga is a force to be reckoned with, and crossing her with anything would be like signing your own teacher-death-warrant. Though she had a strict reputation, she had a witty sense of humour.

I followed Jasmine by flashlight, to Olga's tent.

Inside the tent sat Olga, Terri and Rachel, all sitting cross-legged in their woollen pyjamas around an exceptionally bright, halogen lamp. Standing next to the lamp is a bottle of Pepper Jack Shiraz. For sure, all my colleagues appeared to be slightly tipsy, giggling loudly as I entered their domain. Who would have guessed, I thought, that I'd be sitting in a tent with four middle-aged women in their pj's, at the northern tip of the continent of Australia.

'Have a cup of wine, Craig.” announced the Ukrainian peasant.

She filled my cup, and all I could say is “What's up?”

Olga took a swig of wine from her mug. “I thought it a good idea to end our day together and de-brief the day's events. If you don't tell our principal, a innocent glass of wine to soften the nerves during our nightly meeting. Is that okay with you, Craig?”

“Your the boss, Olga. And to be honest, I've never knocked back a glass of wine in my life.”

The women burst into laughter.

After the bottle was drained, and the chattering of my fellow teacher's about various students to pay extra attention to, and after a few digs at me for the year 12 student putting up my tent, I wandered back to my canvas abode, thinking the night wasn't as cold as I first thought. Must have been the Shiraz. Sleep came without effort.

The next morning the gang packed-up like we had been doing it for years, and our next destination was West McDonnell rages. We arrived in only a half day's journey. Our student's erected their tents in a straight line on both sides of the grounds. Standing at the head of the camp, it reminded me of documentary about the American Civil War. Again, my year 12 friend realised I was having trouble with my tent, and lent her services. Once finishing, I said, “Carol, by the end of the trip I think I'll get the hang of it.” She smiled, “ I don't mind Mr. Middleton.” and skipped away.

Once settled, I decided to take a walk alone and explore the rest of the camp. The temperature wasn't that hot, and the air was clear and clean. Finally reaching the end of the grounds, I sat down on a mole hill that overlooked a vast distance of desert. The shades of white and deep, copper red reminded me of a little story in a daily about explorers who came across a Aboriginal, who never had seen the white man before. He carried a shield and spear, and of course, not able to speak English, somehow conveyed to the white group that he hadn't seen a single human being in years. I remember at the time of reading, feeling astonished, that there still remains people who have not been touched by the ravages of modern civilisation. As a continent, Australia is a large island, and to this day, continues to have areas that haven't been explored.

As I re-entered the camp, Jasmine, the woman who I had woke up to several times, staring at me, rushed up to greet me.

“Craig. We've made a small fire in the “teachers area” and I managed to bring a few specialities for dinner. Would you join us?” Jasmine, to be sure, wasn't a bad looking woman. Standing at around 5. 3', she was petite, though bestowed extremely large breasts. She had a lack of confidence, I surmised, because when she would attend my classes, with one of her students with learning issues, never asked me for lecture notes. Now on the trip, she had now opened up, and was showing a self-absurdness, that I had never seen before.

The women sat around a grand fire, and on a small grill, cooked five large t-bones. I have always been a unapologetic carnivore. After two days of hot dogs and chips, this felt like a gift from the food god's above. Olga managed to sneak another bottle of Shiraz, that we drank from old coffee cups. Certainly this was the highlight of the trip. We ate, talked and laughed, and for a fleeting moment, I forgot about the fifty students under our care.

It was determined that 9:30pm was lights out for the camp. Like a dedicated Nazi guard, with flashlight in hand, did my rounds...

“Okay people, lights out. Lights out people, we have a big day tomorrow.”