Beth and Katy's school, Douglas Park School, was visited last week by John Key, New Zealand’s Prime Minister. Apparently a little six-year-old boy had written to him that he wanted to meet him, so when Mr. Key planned a trip to the Wairarapa, he included the boy’s school.
I wanted to go to the school and see the PM for myself and hear what he had to say to the children, so I checked with the office to get permission to be there. They said that is wasn’t being widely publicized, but that it would be okay for me to go, camera and all. I arrived at the school about twenty minutes before he was scheduled to speak to the children and dutifully went to the office to sign in. Not necessary, I was told—I could just go and be seated in the hall. I was surprised there by what I did not see: no security forces, no bomb-sniffing dogs, no sharp shooters on the roof. I wasn’t challenged by anyone. Nobody looked to see if the bag I carried really contained a camera, or whether I belonged there.
Soon the children entered the hall with their teachers. The youngest entered first and sat in neat rows near the stage. As always with Kiwi kids, many were barefooted (this never fails to strike me as odd though I see it every day, even in the coldest of weather). The year 5-6 classes, Katy and Beth’s level, entered last and sat at the back, still in neat rows. The children practiced standing and sitting peacefully, and it seemed that all were on the edges of their seats (though actually on the floor) to see their Prime Minister. Heads kept turning toward the back to see whether he had arrived, and try as they might, the children just couldn’t stay focused on the songs they were being led to sing while waiting.
When Mr. Key finally entered the hall, he was flanked by the student councilors and by Mr. Brown, the school’s principal. Only two bodyguards entered the hall, but they seemed quite different from the Secret Service agents I have seen protecting our President. Yes, they still had a headphone spiraling into one ear and a microphone on their lapels, but they seemed lower-key (really, no pun intended). As with all DPS assemblies, the student councilors officiated. They welcomed the PM to their school and invited him to the microphone to speak. The students were well-behaved and listened, although the microphone (which had been tested moments before his arrival) refused to work. After his brief address—much to be said for a politician knowing his audience—all the students sang for him, and a group of students performed a haka.
The youngster who had invited Mr. Key had an audience with him in the staff room; apparently the six-year-old told him that some day he wanted to become PM. At the risk of embarrassing Beth and Katy, I stuck around and talked with one of his staff (bodyguard? Secret Service?) who were ready to drive him to his next appointment. Only two cars awaited him—a BMW sedan and a Toyota SUV. Silver, by the way. I’ve seen many Presidential motorcades: far more than two vehicles, and they usually fly two American flags on each front bumper. These cars had no such banners. The staffer who spoke with me was relaxed and friendly as we compared the way it’s done here versus the high security in the United States. He said that the only thing that had happened to the PM is that protestors grabbed at him and were arrested.
After a short while, Mr. Key emerged from the office building and was immediately surrounded by students asking for his autograph. I haven’t seen so many autograph hounds since Ozzie Smith stood around signing baseball hats at Busch Stadium. Kids were handing him notebooks, backpacks, rugby balls and scooters to sign. One child asked him to sign her wheelchair, and he smiled, squatted next to her, and asked where she wanted his signature. He drew a line at shoes, however, and I can’t say that I blame him. Katy and Beth were each pleased to get a signature. Again I was struck by the nearness of New Zealand’s head of state to the people; (OK, any purists reading this, I realize that the Queen of England is the head of state in NZ, but come on, that’s only for show). America’s leaders are “of the people,” but there is sadly a glass (bulletproof) wall between the elected and their constituents. Reminded by his staff that he needed to get to Featherston to his next obligation, Mr. Key (almost reluctantly) got into his car and left.
I later asked whether Mr. Key had been flown by helicopter back to Wellington. No, I was told, he had flown into the Wairarapa due to a tight schedule (and of course, critics found fault for this), but he would be driven back over the Rimutaka—construction delays and all. Whether you like or dislike his politics--I have no true opinion--you have to admire the way Mr. Key interacted with these young people. It was a day none of them will soon forget.
