In January of 1966, our family of one hundred and fifty pioneering students—most of us fresh from East Tamaki Primary and Baird’s Intermediate—came together as the founding pupils of our brand-new high school. At the front gate stood a humble little shed for our milk crates, and right beside it, a tiny shop where one shilling got you a steaming pie, a filled roll, and on special days, crunchy potato chips!
We assembled outside under the wide-open sky, the girls in their mini-skirt uniforms and witches britches, and us boys in our beatle boots, making sure our hair didn’t so much as brush our collars if we wanted to stay clear of trouble. Our diverse team of teachers—led by the caring but firm Mr. Garfield Johnson, Mr. Hammer, and the formidable Miss Penman—guided us through those early days, forming the roots of the strong community that sprung from those first 150 foundation pupils.
I recall Mr. Johnson pointing to the walls of our great assembly hall, declaring that one day, these walls will talk.
My job was to thank visitors—nerve-racking every time I was called upon to do it. Then came 1967, our fourth-form year: typing classes for the boys, trips to compete with other schools, clubs to join, singing that filled the corridors, and the arrival of classmates from across the South Pacific whose parents were working at the Bluebird factory. The Otara Mall bustled with life, my mother found work at Reynolds, and Mr. Black took charge of our First XV rugby team. Though we lost nearly every match, one day, there came that glorious victory that we’d never forget. By 1968, the School Certificate year was upon us, and the Church of England on the corner of East Tamaki Road and Baird’s Road transformed into a nightclub—no booze, of course (I’ll say no more!). After national exams that year, most of us found our way into jobs and careers. Of the original 150 students, only nine returned for the sixth form, facing University Entrance exams. That year was mind-numbing, but through it all, we held our heads high with an unshakable pride in our school and in Otara.
We all grew up in Otara. Some stayed, some ventured on, but we left with dreams of bright futures and an enduring sense of unity. Each of us carried with us a steadfast pride in who we were, and where we came from, and even now, as those walls fill with stories, I like to believe we remain one family in spirit, bound by our shared beginning and our love for the place we once called home.