When I was little, growing up in sketchy Port Melbourne in the early 1980s, children’s television was a strictly two-party system: you were either a Play School kid or a Sesame Street kid.
The fact that the two shows aired next to each other was immaterial: us Play Schoolers looked down on the cultural imperialism of Sesame Street’s Americanisms (even if we secretly wanted to hug Snuffy) and lived that rocket clock life 24/7.
Make no mistake: the love of Play School that my friends and I shared was all-encompassing, a club whose initiation involved declaring one’s favourite presenter team – which for most of us was “John (Hamblin) and Benita (Collings)”.
You’ll notice I’ve put all the presenters’ surnames in brackets in this piece because, when you’re a preteen, Play School presenters are known only by their given names; they’re the Prince, Madonna and Cher of childhood.
Being a Play School fan was exceptionally good training for future anticapitalist leanings. For one thing, it meant foregoing the cool merchandise and toys that Sesame Street kids had at their disposal. More than once I glanced wistfully at my friend’s Big Bird plush toy and wished I could cuddle my own Diddle (Play School’s enigmatic cat). If there was Play School swag available back in the day, we certainly didn’t hear about it in the grounds of St Joseph’s school.
In terms of teaching usable skills, Play School probably wasn’t a core text – that was for shows like Hunter and The Curiosity Show – but in between learning how to make a crocodile out of an egg carton and memorising the lyrics of On The Ning Nang Nong, Play School provided a uniquely Australian and endearingly eccentric template for life.
As we grew, so did our engagement with Play School; no longer content to blithely consume it as entertainment, we wondered about the broader social implications of “the window system” and suddenly realised that our favourite presenters might have lives beyond the Play School realm.
My sister and I must have had psychic premonitions of Philip (Quast)’s successes in musical theatre because every time he’d sing a Play School song we would declare with a knowing wink that he was “dreaming of Oklahoma!”
I vividly remember, aged about eight or so, reading my parents’ copy of An Encyclopedia of Australian Film and seeing a still of Noni (Hazlehurst) in Monkey Grip, roaring, “What’s Noni doing in a grown-ups’ film?!” (My mother, who was at the time working as an actress, replied through a slightly tense smile that Noni was allowed to act wherever she saw fit.)
I was so taken by Play School that at one point (aged about five) I genuinely thought that if I cut the “lid” off the television set the presenters would be free to escape and play with me. If, within the next 50 years, Play School enters the virtual reality realm, the children of tomorrow will be able to experience what I had always dreamed of.
If these reminiscences have illustrated anything, I hope it’s that each child’s engagement with Play School is uniquely personal. My preteen dreams of Noni and Philip’s eventual marriage (there’s still time) would be another viewer’s worst nightmare, and so on. With that in mind, I asked some other former children what their most vivid Play School memories were – and as you can see, no two are the same.
There’s a Play School song in that, somewhere …
Charlie Pickering, comedian and host of The Weekly:
“I remember two things as clearly as though it was yesterday: the rocket clock spinning around and Noni doing everything. They were not just part of my childhood, they became memories that are so real I can almost touch them.”
Sam Simmons, comedian:
“John Hamblin was a total rock star to me. I remember him being so dry and adult in his delivery and I honestly feel he helped shape the idiot I am today. I watched a LOT of TV as a sole child and spent a lot of time with John. I would love the Play School piano accompaniment to follow me as a soundtrack to my life. ‘Blink bonk bliiink!’”
Em Rusciano, comedian, singer and radio host:
“I was lucky enough to experience Play School in its glory days, a time when political correctness was not as closely policed as it is now. John Hamblin was my absolute favourite host. When he and Noni were on together things always got a little wild – you could cut the sexual tension (borderline harassment) with a knife! Even I knew at the ripe old age of five that when he offered her some of his sausage in her pretend soup, he was not talking about meat ... Well I guess he was.
“I also remember writing a letter to the ABC requesting that Benita adopt me. I recall feeling deep within my soul that her hair would be very soft and that fact alone would make her a most excellent mother.”
Kurt Fearnley, three-time paralympic gold medallist:
“I remember feeling as if Noni Hazlehurst was a part of the family. Learning to tell the time on a rocket clock, or feeling like every story was read specifically for me. That’s the beauty of Play School: the personal connection to 50 years of Aussie kids, including my two year old.”
Faustina “Fuzzy” Agolley, TV host and former Video Hits presenter:
“Play School was part of all of our lives. I wondered why, after singing a song to Humpty Dumpty, he hadn’t figured out to not sit on that wall anymore. ‘Come on, Humpty! Seriously man, you gotta learn how to protect yo’self!’
“I felt we all instantly knew who was our pal and what was our fave window; mine were Big Ted and Little Ted and the arch window, ‘cause it was the fanciest. I had anxiety if the other windows were picked because I felt people didn’t understand the unique shape of the arch. The background music for window picking always made me anxious, too. Pick the the damn arch!”
Christos Tsiolkas, author:
“Whenever I think of going through one of the doors, a lovely warm rush floods my body.
“I adored Mary Ann [Severne], she seemed the nicest person in the world. I used to switch it on when Colin Friels was presenting but I was a teenager by then and my reasons for watching were definitely not educational.”
Helen Razer, writer and commentator:
“I am a vision-impaired adult and was a vision-impaired child, so it’s the simple shapes of Play School that left their imprint on my retinal memory. I recall being very irritated by Benita and Colin’s excursions into craft and always impatient with the instruction to ‘ask mum for help’. My mother had the same aversion to busywork and paper craft and such a request for scissor aid would only have annoyed her.
“The windows live in my visual memory alongside the images of mother church. At three or four, I thought that the arch window was the likely address for the Holy Ghost. Children, I have read in pop psychological articles, tend to conflate things and so, to my emerging consciousness, the three windows were indivisible from the trinity.
“Due less to precocious atheism and much more to the fact that I never wanted to wear one of those ugly communion dresses, I began to hate Play School a few years later, because it had become emotionally inseparable for me from the Roman Catholic church and all its garish fashions.”
Jeremy Fernandez, journalist and ABC news presenter
“I didn’t watch Play School growing up, because I was born overseas. But I’ve always known it to be a fixture of so many people’s childhoods. I got absorbed into the world of Play School after my daughter was born.
“My fondest memories are of watching it with my two-year-old daughter. Her face would light up when she heard the Play School theme. From the other side of the room, she would gasp loudly, and shout, ‘Kay Soo! Kay Soo!’ – bursting to pronounce Play School. The wonder on her face is unforgettable.”
• Charlie Pickering, Kurt Fearnley and Jeremy Fernandez feature in Play School Celebrity Covers, a series of mini episodes that air daily on ABC Kids, and which will be made available on iView, to celebrate Play School’s 50th anniversary this month
