According to a recent letter to the Herald, new schoolteachers were once given the advice “don’t smile ’til Easter”. Presumably, this allowed them to crush any thought of rebellion among their new students, after which they could slowly reveal their warmer side.
I was pleased to read about the tip as it explained why all my own teachers began each year as stern-faced monsters, then ended it as jovial funsters. Previously, I’d imagined we’d charmed our way into their hearts simply by being so adorable.
A young(er) Richard Glover with Miss Piggy.Credit: Paul Matthews
Every profession, I assume, has a basic, old-timers tip, handed from one generation to the next. Maybe there’s an example in your trade? “Don’t smile ’til Easter”, after all, is just an educator’s version of the advice routinely given to apprentice carpenters: “Measure twice, cut once.”
Young nurses, I’m told by one of my radio listeners, are given the guidance “never walk past food or a toilet”, while young lawyers are instructed that “every client lies”. For young builders, the advice is to “never walk backward on a building site”. Meanwhile, if you are a young pilot, some old-timer will always whisper in your ear: “There are old pilots and bold pilots, but no old, bold pilots.”
When I started at the Herald as a cadet reporter, the professional advice came thick and fast. I particularly remember: “If your mother says she loves you, check it out”, a reminder to research things that appeared to be self-evident.
There was also: “Don’t bury the lead”, a direction to put the most interesting fact in the first paragraph, and not way down here – six paragraphs below. As you can see, I’m still guided by this precept, having tried to capture your interest with that memorable teaching advice from Herald letter writer Joy Nason of Mona Vale. Thanks Joy!
Richard Glover hard at work in 1985.Credit: Ross Anthony Willis
More curious, for the young reporter, was the constant instruction to conclude every interview with the question: “Is it, by any chance, your birthday?” The idea was that any story would be improved if it just happened to be the person’s birthday, as in “Woman wins lottery on birthday”, or “Man assaulted – and it was his birthday”.
Ask the question 365 times, we were told, and the law of averages would finally give you a win.
Legend had it that a young reporter on The Sun had failed to ask the question, only to see, a few hours later, the headline in the opposition tabloid The Mirror: “Man survives shark attack – and it was his birthday.”
Boy, did that reporter have some explaining to do, as the chief sub-editor walked menacingly towards him.
Ask the question 365 times, we were told, and the law of averages would finally give you a win.
The chief sub was certainly an alarming figure. I remember, at age 25, filing a news brief about “an elderly couple” involved in a car crash. The story went on to list the age of the couple, both 62 years. This, the sub-editor noted, was precisely the same age as that of our venerable editor-in-chief. I may wish, he suggested, to rapidly reconsider my chosen descriptor before the copy reached the great man’s desk.
Forty years on, I couldn’t agree more with the chief sub’s stern criticism of my younger self. Damn it, that couple were virtually teenagers.
The other expression of the time was “a permanent exclusive”. This was the name for a ground-breaking story, splashed across the front page, that turned out to be, ahem, not true. Since it was never repeated by competing newsrooms, nor mentioned again by your own paper, except in the column marked “corrections”, it was forever yours, and yours alone.
We hear a lot about the bullying and teasing that still greets new workers – apprentice painters sent to buy “a can of striped paint” or carpenters required to find “a replacement bubble for the spirit level”. In my view, these “pranks” were not funny in the past and are not funny now. So, it’s cheering to think that, in most professions, newcomers are mostly greeted with well-meaning advice.
Mothercraft nurses, I’m told, are still given the tip: “Stop whispering and stop tiptoeing. Babies get used to noise.” Meanwhile, project managers in the building industry are told: “It’s not how you start a job that counts, it’s how you finish it.”
Young engineers are told to advise their clients: “You can have it fast, cheap and good – but you only get to choose two of those things.” I also like the film industry adage: “If you’re on time, you’re late.” In other words, just because the cast and crew are called for 6am, doesn’t mean you should saunter up with not a second to spare.
Oh, and in many professions – from nursing to policing – there’s the advice: “Just treat everyone how you would like to be treated yourself.”
Modern teachers, I’m told, no longer hold with “Don’t smile ’til Easter”. There are better ways, they say, to earn the respect of the students. Having a frown on your face for two months leaves the children disengaged and gives the educator a headache.
Do some teachers still use the technique? I’d like to say “no”, not a single one, not here, not anywhere, but somehow I think that’s unlikely.
And no way do I want to be stuck with a permanent exclusive.
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