The land for the school and the church was given by Mr Hugh McKenzie. At first, starting in August 1861, the lessons were taught in the church. In 1877 the school was built by Donald and Alex McLeod. The name of the school comes from a Kauri tree which had been struct by lightning, giving the appearance that the bark had been stripped off.

Although there are some gaps in records, much is to be said of the gallant and patient bands of school committees and dedicated teachers that have battled through these early years to make Kaurihohore the school it is today. There have been two attempts by residents to have it consolidated with Hikurangi or Kamo school, but this was hotly contested.

In 1918, a Puriri tree was planted celebrating peace at the end of World War 1. This Puriri tree stands proudly at the front of the school today. In 2002 another tree was planted in the area that is now the native garden. This was grown from a seed of the original tree.

It was during the first World War, that the school grounds, along with property from several surrounding farms, were requisitioned by the Army, which stationed the Māori Battalion and the 2nd Hauraki Regiment there.

In 1942 the school was burned down, and lessons were held in the Kauri Hall. Consolidation with another school was again considered but decided against.

The new school was opened on the 15th of April 1948. Many changes have of course been made since then.

My father, Sam Stretton, was Head Teacher at the school from 1945 to 1955 during which time his assistant was Mrs Clare Hookham who travelled out each day from Whangārei on the bus.  In those days it was quite a journey.  

When Dad first arrived at the school in 1945, classes were held in the community hall as the school itself had burnt down.  As I recall, this situation continued for about a year and then we were able to move to the new buildings.  

In those days, the Head Teacher was also caretaker, groundsman, general fix-it man, dispenser of first aid and maker of hot cocoa in the winter.  Dad even used to cut the boys’ hair at weekends and I still have the old clippers he used.  

Students were the school cleaners.  Each day, the team on duty, would sweep the floors before applying a coat of linseed oil to the boards.  The pungent smell was still there to greet us next morning.  Heating in winter was supplied by a pot bellied stove which sat in the corner of the classroom.  On top of this, in a kerosene tin specially prepared for the purpose, the cocoa was made.  Those were the days, but OSH would never have approved! 

We lived in the schoolhouse just a paddock away from the school and Dad was always on hand for any weekend activities at the school.  Part of this paddock contained the so-called tennis courts.  These were popular at weekends and Dad would often join in.  

The courts were partially enclosed by a fence of wire netting interwoven with bracken and blackberries.  Retrieving the ball was a mission.  Woe betide anyone who did not put the tennis net away at the end of the day as the cattle, whose job it was to keep the grass down, were also inclined to have a go at the net.  At one stage a goat from a neighbouring farm was also brought in to deal with the blackberries and thistles.  The goat and its chain always became well and truly entangled and Dad made it my job to deal with it when necessary.  The goat had a beautiful head of horns and would attack any way it could.  I soon learned to free the chain but leave the head to last, then run like crazy.  The goat was eventually retuned to the farm but I have never forgotten the experience.

Then there was the time the School Committee decided to supply the schoolhouse with water from a bore in the school grounds.  Although the house had a water tank, this was seen as a suitable alternative when the tank was low.  During a working bee, the water pipes were laid right across the paddock but unfortunately were placed only a few inches below ground level.  The galvanized pipe was affected by the heat in summer and the cold in the winter.  Water was either hot when it was meant to be cold or came out rusty and ruined many a washing day for my mother. 

In that era, Bible in Schools was a feature of Primary school education.  Pupils looked forward to the weekly visit of Rev Bruce Bissett from Hikurangi.   He was an enthusiastic speaker who managed to get the message of Christianity across while at the same entertaining us with all sorts of anecdotes.  

Being the daughter of the local school teacher, my own experience may have been somewhat different from other pupils at that time.  Dad was of the ‘Old School’ with a reputation for being a strict disciplinarian.  Of course, my classmates were not to know that I also came under the same regime, but those who felt they had been unfairly treated by him, later saw their opportunity for revenge when I joined the High School contingent on the Hikurangi bus to Whangārei.

Apotu Road in those days was a loose metal, corrugated, dusty nightmare.  Passing an oncoming vehicle was a test of one’s driving ability.  We recognised everyone’s car by sound and by the amount of dust created.  The road was graded fairly regularly which meant that the metal and other debris was scraped from the sides to the middle, invariably resulting in punctures for the next few vehicles who were the first to use the restored surface.   

A regular event in the community was the Women’s Institute Dance and Concert, held in the local hall.  Dad was always asked to be MC and my mother, a wonderful pianist, supplied non stop music.  We did not have microphones or special effects but these functions were enjoyed by all.  Supper was true country style hospitality.

In 1955 Dad moved to Portland School, from there to Birkdale School in 1960, and finally to Drury in 1962.  In 1964 my parents retired to New Lynn where they lived until my mother’s death in 1992.   Dad died in 1993 aged 92.  Both he and my mother enjoyed contact with many former pupils who kept in touch.  I know they both held fond memories of Kaurihohore.