When teaching agriculture in the mid-seventies in Adelaide, all classes were streamed. Each group required a unique approach and when I found myself in the company of the lowest group of fifteen year olds, a few who were there more so to keep them off the streets than to learn, it became a challenge I remember with fondness.
We had a double session, the last two periods on Fridays, usually a dreaded situation. Even though I thought it could only end in some form of disaster that group gave me some of my fondest memories.
The school kept a bus for trips within the property and a tractor was available for students to practice driving. Fortunately the school did not seem greatly concerned with what we did, provided the damage bill was not excessive!
I had the flexibility to let students watch something of interest and to take advantage of other noteworthy moments around the school. One of those moments occurred on a sunny afternoon when a farm dog had a particularly bad day.
A blue heeler was brought into the school by a worker, and well known for its herding instincts, was full of life, barking, growling and nipping at the heels of some terrified sheep.
The dog did its work efficiently, responding to its master's commands, and having earned some recreation time, decided to mark out some territory.
With a quick flick of a hind leg he expertly directed a spray at the base of the nearest tree, turned for a quick sniff to check his work, then headed for the next marker. Making a beeline to an odd-looking post, he failed to look closely before confidently repeating his routine.
That time, things went astray. A stream of highly-conductive dog essence hit a live electric fence and, with many thousands of volts passing through his body via a most sensitive part, he became an instant acrobat.
What looked like three complete somersaults were perfectly executed, landing on his feet with ears down and tail between his legs, he ran the fastest hundred metres in dog history.
The memory of that proud and confident dog suddenly turning into a fearful and shocked parody of an aggressive predator had us all laughing till the end of the lesson.
The dog would no doubt have licked his wounds, as an electric fence designed to keep animals out of certain areas would give a painful jolt, but physical effects are not long lasting. Bred from hardy outback stock, our victim would have licked his wounds but soon recovered, albeit with psychological scars!
The carrot and stick worked well with that group and they could take turns tractor driving if they behaved. When tractor driving an obstacle course was set up for students to negotiate a trailer moving forward as well as in reverse, but the activity would be terminated due to poor behavior.
Few problems occurred however, thanks to an aggressive youth who loved tractor driving. If the activity was terminated, then they had to deal with him at the end of the day.
On other occasions, the animals won at the expense of the teacher as I found out on a school open day. With a group of interested children and parents watching, I grabbed a ewe in an enclosure to demonstrate how the sheep's nails were clipped, but I should have been a little more aware.
A jealous ram saw the display as an affront on his dignity, being the man among this flock, and while I bent down, he gave me a well-timed head butt, sending me flying forward into the dirt. The crowd were impressed, giving me a round of applause--or was it was for the ram!
Towards the end of my final in Adelaide, I chatted with the tough, street-wise youth who loved tractor driving. He was sporting an infected forearm, the result of a tattoo to celebrate his acceptance as a junior member of a bikie group.
He said, "if you have a problem that needs fixing, we can do it for you."
It was an offer that would not be taken up, but he expressed his appreciation in his own way.
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