Of all places in the wide, bustling world of classrooms and chalk dust, Ross was to commence his “in-school practical training” at none other than Drummoyne Primary School. The irony was not lost on him. Drummoyne, where the streets smelled faintly of laundry and the river whispered of lazy afternoons. His days at Drummoyne though were locked behind the steel gates of the orphanage. And here he was, about to navigate the labyrinthine politics of pencils, playgrounds, and primary-level pandemonium just a few hundred metres from the very place.