School Reunion

This evening I chose to attend an old scholars' function run by my high school's old collegians association. The event was aimed to introduce the new old scholars to the association and its various sporting branches and its administrative team. Many students were enticed into attendance by the promise of free food and refreshments, or by the hope of seeing new old school friends. I, however, attended primarily to receive my old scholar's tie, which is a dashing mix of red white and gold in a pattern of diagonal stripes. About one hour into the evening, with my tie under my belt, I decided it to be departure time. However, I chose to make a number of key obvservations of my surroundings and in particular my fellow old scholars.

Firstly, the president of the association wore a bowtie but no tuxedo. He also had a very bushy moustache. In my eyes he epitomised the idea of an 'old red' (my school's colloquial term for an old scholar). Also, his name was Rex (unasahmedly mutated into Rexy the minute it was announced), which fitted his image like a glove. Rex seemed contentedly at home in the chosen venue: a secluded lodge facing the East parklands, with a faux timber veneer adorning the walls, and various portraits of the Queen gazing approvingly down upon us.

The only thing tackier than the wannabe-wood wallpaper was the feable attempt made by so many of my former colleagues to be "ocker". Here I saw a bunch of private school boys (not necessarily snobs, I might add, so don't you go and peg them that way) in Ralph Lauren shirts, with RL trousers and Italian loafers, and even an occasional kashmir vest or jumper; attempting to maintain the most transparent Aussie accents whilst holding discussions of footy and cricket over a few pints of beer (sparkling ale was the preferred choice). The entire culture made me feel uncomfortable, and I was happy to sit away from the group. NB this also allowed me a good vantage point to make such observations. In most social situations, such fakeness is so often shunned, and in such a way is eventually eradicated from each group. However, this delusion of Australianism, of a working-class set, of true-blue shoot-a-roo blokes, is realised and maintained without any kind of social repercussions. This occurs because every single "bloke" in this set is equally deluded. They seem to be so swept up in constructing their own characters that they fail to see through everyone else's. I left early, unable to bear the situation much longer after I received my tie.

Despite my criticism, it is only fair to point out that these lads are more than happy to exist in their world. Although their talk was hollow, their smiles were sincere. The group presents a supporting network, an opportunity to relive memories, and even to make new ones. This said, the old scholars' culture is one that I have no intention of joining. It certainly is a case of whatever floats your boat.

First old scholars' event, last old scholars' event.