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Image: Toby Morris
Image: Toby Morris

SocietyDecember 4, 2020

The endemic playground attacks of New Zealand, revisited

Image: Toby Morris
Image: Toby Morris

Do your childhood memories include being randomly attacked by your classmates? Josie Adams and Duncan Greive look back at the strangely violent schoolyard culture of dead arms, noogies, tabletops and more. Illustrated by Toby Morris.

They say your school years are the best of your life. Remember being nine, playing marbles, and swapping your fruit roll-up for half a Cookie Time? Remember being 12, wearing butterfly clips, and glugging your first energy drink? Remember Jump Jams, and MTV, and how wedgies and chair pulls swept the school in viral waves?

Looking back, some of our “best years” were spent physically attacking each other, in a way that is absolutely shocking to us as adults now, but seemed as inviolably part of school culture as uniforms at the time.

One afternoon, after work, a group of Spinoff staff began discussing the phenomenon, and found it transcended gender, ethnicity and geography. There were regional variations, some that came in a craze and never returned, others that were there on some level from primary school to high school. We fervently hope the children of today have moved on to gentler things.

We gathered the below to function as a kind of cultural history – a way of saying that this really happened. What we’re explicitly not doing is saying that it was good that it did. It’s also important to say that these activities, many of which would be considered different varieties of assault were they to happen between adults, often happened between the closest of friends, with a form of implied consent.

They also happened in contexts that were unequivocally bullying. Which, it shouldn’t need repeating, is an appalling culture that occurs throughout New Zealand society, in both physical and psychological forms. That these activities could seamlessly move between relatively harmless fun to a tool in the trade of some very destructive behaviour is part of what makes them so mysterious. And fascinating – it’s an area of our cultural history about which there seems to be no scholarship, no theorising. This just happened, to almost all of us, and no one seems to know why, nor particularly talk about it.

So here they are, described for seemingly the first time in one place, the petty, destructive, dangerous, undeniably real physical attacks of the New Zealand playground, dating back at least to the 70s, and definitely still in practice as recently as the 2010s.

Arm burn

The arm burn was more often and very racistly known as an Indian or Chinese burn, despite being inflicted by all ethnicities. It involved grasping someone’s forearm with both hands, and twisting each hand in a different direction, quickly, causing a friction burn.

The arm burn (Image: Toby Morris)

Strap slap

If you wore a bra to school you had to keep it hidden for fear of the strap slap. Any visible bra strap would be pulled back and let go, slapping your shoulder with red hot elastic. You’d think this was exclusively girl-on-girl violence, but it’s not. In our experience, most strap slaps were committed by boys.

Pretty painful, and with the added effect of damaging expensive underwear. It’s hard to tell if the inventor of the strap slap was shaming girls for entering puberty, or just making the most of an opportunity.

Noogie

The act of grinding knuckles into a mate’s head, mostly in a headlock. Not super painful, but very uncomfortable.

Headlock

Not a proper wrestling technique – an arm around the neck to keep someone’s head still while deploying other attacks, mostly noogies and wet willies.

Slice

Not painful, just weird. The hand, in a chop position, swipes up the crack of the uniformed arse – quickly enough to surprise. The attacker calls out “slliiiiiiice!!!”, and girls would also slice each other in the front. Slice seems particularly popular in Dargaville.

The slice (Image: Toby Morris)

Foot tap

A form of trip, tapping the ankle just as it heads forward during the normal walking motion, and mostly resulted in a simple stumble, with the odd grazed palm.

Knee tap

Related – this took advantage of the knee’s reaction – when aimed just right a relatively light tap would see the leg briefly collapse.

Horse bite

The hand, in pincer position, clamps down hard on the lower thigh just above the knee. The attacker squeezed hard and very quickly, focusing on either side of the leg.

The horse bite. (Image: Toby Morris)

It felt like your patella was about to pop off. Really effective delivery of a quick, intense – but mercifully brief – burst of pain.

Body glove

Slapping someone’s back with an open hand will leave a searing red imprint in the shape of the Body Glove logo. Mere seconds of pain, but the imprint lasted for minutes.

Pinkie

The same as a body glove, but on the thigh instead of their back. The Spinoff managing editor Duncan Greive has been pinkied “maybe 500” times, indicating that this was particularly endemic at Auckland Grammar during the 90s.

Wet willy

Stick a finger in your mouth so it’s all slobbery, and then jam it in a friend’s earhole. Twist. Disgusting, but not painful. Covid-19 provides yet another reason why this should no longer happen.

Down trou / down trail

Pull the victim’s pants down, revealing (hopefully) their underwear. Tended to set off a war which could last anywhere from minutes to days.

Tabletop

A rare attack which required two people to execute. One distracts the target from the front, while the other crouches on hands and knees behind the target’s legs. This second person is the “tabletop”, because they look like a table. Person one pushes the target backwards, and the tabletop will cause their legs to fly out from underneath them. More humiliating than painful, for the most part.

The tabletop. (Image: Toby Morris)

Chair pull

Also known as the “invisible chair”. When someone went to sit down, someone would rip the chair away, causing them to fall to the ground, butt first.

Wedgie

The earliest known loincloth dates back 7,000 years and that’s likely how old the wedgie is, too. From behind, the attacker grabbed the victim’s shorts or underwear and pulled it up, hard. Material would gather in arse crack, giving it a good flossing. At times the recipient would be lifted off the ground.

Dead arm

A quick anatomy lesson: likely without knowing it, the attacker was aiming for the brachialis muscle, a very specific spot on the arm, about 10cm below the shoulder. Commonly delivered as a suckerpunch, there were also variations, near exclusively involving boys in their early teens, where two or more would participate in a dead arm competition.

It hurt a lot for a hot second, and then went totally numb, the arm unable to move.

Free hit

In New Zealand, fire hydrants are marked on the ground with a yellow “FH”. To anyone in the know, this stands for “free hit”, and playground law had it that you’re allowed to punch the nearest person, mostly in the arm (see above). Variations saw free hits also granted to anyone who saw a yellow car (“hit yellow car”) or a Volkswagen Beetle (“punchbuggy”).

The free hit remain common to this day, while many of the above remain, thankfully, as fading memories of those who went through the New Zealand school system in the 70s-00s. It seems likely that schools’ tolerance for this kind of behaviour, which stretches from harmless hijinks to dangerous assaults, has significantly diminished in these more enlightened times. But this happened, and was an ever-present part of school, likely for millions of us. Let this post be a reminder of the weird, creative violence of children.

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Getty Images

OPINIONSocietyDecember 4, 2020

We miss New Zealand desperately, but we’re staying put in education exile

Getty Images
Getty Images

Half a million New Zealanders are predicted to return home in the wake of Covid-19, but our family won’t be on that list until New Zealand sorts out its approach to special needs and disability education.

In August 2019 we left our beloved New Zealand, the country my husband and kids are natural citizens of, to return to my family in the UK. We were sure it would be temporary, but so much has changed in 15 months. Now, as Aotearoa braces itself for half a million Kiwi expats to return as refugees of the coronavirus pandemic, we feel sure our names will not be on that list.

It is not that it is not tempting. We traded a semi-rural paradise by Te Henga beach for a small, mid-terrace home in Bristol, possibly the UK’s rainiest city. Financially, we are worse off in the UK too. I know some New Zealanders cry that returning ex-pats will run screaming as soon as they see the shitty housing stock and low salaries, but we earn significantly less in West England than West Auckland, and our house is only warm because it’s tiny and sandwiched into a cluster like a penguin. Why on earth then are we not packing our bags? To quote ’90s-era Tony Blair (before Jacinda went to work for him), “education, education, education”.

The struggles my son had at school in New Zealand are no secret. His clutch of diagnoses like ASD, ADHD and anxiety were poorly catered for in the underfunded and under-resourced mainstream system. Dedicated and caring teachers tried and failed to give him what he needed because there simply wasn’t enough money in the pot. I, like many other parents, watched Tracey Martin’s Tomorrow’s Schools review process with hope. Finally, I thought, change will be made. But when the results of the review, Our Schooling Futures: Stronger Together came in to effect in August 2020, I wasn’t the only one left disappointed. When I asked what people thought of the changes on the VIPs – Equity in Education Facebook group, which I was bowled over by the number of comments, mostly very negative.

I asked IHC director of advocacy Trish Grant why yet again parents of high-needs children feel thrown under the bus. According to her, Education in New Zealand is “at the opposite end of the continuum to a rights-based, reasonable accommodation, child-centred model”.

Following the review, changes to the system of learning support have been limited, and not backed up with any real increase in dollars. There is seemingly no recognition that children are currently just not getting the support they need because of budget constraints. In addition, many of the changes tabled by the review are yet to emerge, months after they apparently became law. There has been no update on the implementation of the Learning Support Action Plan, or the establishment of the promised Education Service Agency, for example.

“Only a quarter of the learning support coordinators needed are in place, with many disgruntled by the lack of support from the Ministry of Education,” adds Grant. “Work around the new legal obligations for boards of trustees to measure and report on inclusion has not even started.”

Grant says it is chaos, and that the system is so complicated it actually prevents those in need from accessing help.

ECE teacher Frian Wadia, a parent advocate from the VIPs – Equity in Education group, says important aspects of initial consultation with parents were removed from the final review document.

“The initial recommendations by the Tomorrow’s School Review Taskforce had more measures for accountability that would probably have improved inclusive practices and policies,” she says. One key change that failed to happen was mandatory board of trustee training, another was the establishment of student and parent advocacy panels. “That essential advocacy role is missing.”

Parent advocate Giovanni Tiso says the reforms so far have been “incredibly disappointing”. He notes that an alternative chapter relating to learning support was submitted to the taskforce by advocacy group Education for All, but was largely ignored.

Here’s an excerpt of that alternative chapter for the review document:

“… disabled children and young people are disabled by an education system that defines them as separate and different in negative ways and/or fails to provide the high quality, inclusive environments needed to fully participate, learn well and have friends.”

This quote struck me because reading it, I realised these things are finally available to my son via the education road he is now on in the UK. For the first time, he feels he truly belongs.

Don’t get me wrong, education in Britain is also in crisis. It took us 15 months, all of our white privilege, and – eventually – a solicitor to access the supports our son desperately needs. It was not an easy ride. But unlike in New Zealand, there was always light at the end of the tunnel, because our right to a tribunal if we don’t get what we are entitled to is enshrined in law. The supports we have eventually been able to access in the UK are incredible. It isn’t just better than what we had in New Zealand – it simply doesn’t exist in New Zealand.

Our son now attends a school with a non-exclusion policy. He attends part-time based on his needs, not what the school can manage. Every member of staff at the school has specialist training and recognises all behaviour as communication. There are sensory rooms, animal therapy, and an occupational therapist and speech and language therapist available when needed – no jumping through hoops. Best of all, he has one-to-one support from a trained teacher aide – not the cleaner when she has some spare time, or an inexperienced local mum hired for pin money, but someone who has been invested in, who has skills that are valued and used well. How could we possibly leave that behind?

We miss Aotearoa deeply. We miss our friends, the beach, our cats and of course our family. The UK is a wreck, with a bully for a home secretary setting the tone for a country in crisis. But school, previously a source of incredible unrest for us, is now the utopia we dreamed of. I just wish all New Zealand kids could have the chance our son now has, but the Tomorrow’s School review has been a missed opportunity. For us, it appears to be the final closing of the door to our Kiwi dream.