Remembering Newlands High School

by Cheryl Griffin

Up until the early 1990s, Coburg had two high schools: Coburg High School in Bell Street and Newlands High School in Murray Road. For many years there was no Year 7 to 12 secondary school in Coburg, but thanks to the successful community campaign ‘High School for Coburg’, there is now a new Year 7 to 12 school in Coburg – just in time for the Coburg High School Centenary Celebrations in October 2016.

Unlike Coburg High, my school, Newlands High, did not have a long history. It began life in temporary premises at SS 484 Coburg in February 1959. By 1960 it had moved to its new site – the old Pentridge Prison Farm. I spent my high school years (1965 to 1970) at Newlands. To us, it was a new school with a long future ahead of it.
To get to school, I walked down Urquhart Street to the end of the Pentridge wall and turned left and crossed what we called the ‘Paddock’. This was also the route the whole school took when we walked to and from school assemblies at Coburg Town Hall. The ‘Paddock’ was dangerous territory. It was not landscaped and there were no made paths. The ground was uneven, covered with great cracks and rock hard in summer when we were in constant danger of turning ankles or overbalancing on the uneven ground. In winter it was a quagmire and we struggled to keep our school shoes on our feet. A friend reminded me recently that we were likely to arrive at school about three inches taller because of the sticky Merri Creek mud that had caked onto our shoes.

When we first started, in 1965, the school rules were very strictly enforced. We hated wearing our blazers, hats and gloves to and from school, even when it was stinking hot. In winter we wore berets, which made wonderful frisbees. In addition to successfully negotiating the ‘Paddock’, we were in constant danger of being caught by prefects, who would hide behind bus shelters or around the corner of the Pentridge wall. If caught not wearing the correct uniform, we were in for detention. We also had the length of our school uniforms checked regularly. We had to kneel down on the ground while the hem length was checked and if our dresses were too short (this was the time of the mini skirt), we had to unpick the hems there and then. We all loved our witches britches, but they were banned. We were not allowed to wear twin sets to school socials because that allowed the boys to put their hands where their hands should not be! Patent leather shoes were also banned at dances: they reflected our underwear, apparently.

As in every school, some teachers were brilliant, others less than satisfactory. For example, a group of us made our way through to Year 12 French, only to spend most of our class time listing what we could buy Chez Coles. Then there was the failed dentist who taught us science. In his class we perfected the art of never doing any of the work set out in the curriculum. We enjoyed sport because it got us out of the classroom, but often used our outdoor time in ways our teachers had not anticipated. Cross-country running usually meant running until we were out of sight then walking and chatting. One year, my friends and I played tennis. We chose this sport when we discovered that the tennis courts we would use were on the grounds of the Methodist Church on the corner of Sydney Road and Bell Street, which just happened to be where I lived. We did play tennis, but to the sounds of Johnny Farnham, played on my transistor radio. We also took some rather long breaks, during which my indulgent father brought us cold drinks and afternoon tea. I think our greatest excitement, though, was at the end of our first year of high school when the Coburg Olympic Pool opened just opposite the school. We no longer had to trek down to Brunswick Baths for our swimming lessons and could head straight to pool after school on hot summer’s days. And I’m sure I remember conning an easily persuaded teacher to take our class to the pool instead of enduring another minute in our hot, hot, hot classroom.

We may have thought that Newlands High School had a long future, but by 1996 it had been demolished and the land is now crowded with houses and the occupants are probably unaware that not all that long ago there was a high school on the site.

Although I attended Newlands, I was desperate to attend Coburg High, which had a much longer and more venerable history. I particularly wanted to attend the school because it taught Latin and I wanted to learn Latin. I lived just on the other side of Bell Street and it would have taken me less than two minutes to get to school, but my dream was not to be. The zoning for Coburg High School ended with Bell Street. I lived on the wrong side of the street, so off to Newlands I went. Another friend suffered the same fate. She lived off Bell Street but down near Nicholson Street and her family, too, was zoned for Newlands, so she and her sisters all attended Newlands.

Coburg High School had a much longer history than Newlands. It too had begun life at SS484 Coburg, but as a Higher Elementary School in 1911. It soon became a High School and in 1916 moved across the road to its new buildings. In the 1930s the iconic art deco frontage was added and the school continued to thrive for many years, establishing a sound academic reputation. In 1993, though, as part of the Kennett cuts, the school was closed. The buildings were abandoned and then demolished. Now there is no physical sign of this once great school. However, it has not been forgotten and the Coburg High School Historical Group Inc. is keeping the school’s memory alive and will celebrate the school’s Centenary in October 2016.

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