You knew something was happening at school when the parents started arriving with trestle tables and cardboard boxes full of donated goods.

By Saturday morning, the playground had been taken over by stalls, the barbecue was going (with sausages donated) and there were people wandering around the school who you were fairly certain had never set foot inside it before.

Best of all, you could walk straight past your classroom without having to go in.

For generations of Aussie kids, the school fete was a big occasion. In some country towns it attracted half the district, while suburban schools had their own versions, with parents spending weeks getting everything organised and persuading local businesses to donate prizes.

Some were fairly simple affairs. Others had pony rides, sideshows and, in later years, jumping castles. There was plenty to keep the kids occupied until their pocket money ran out, which usually happened pretty quickly.

What was in the lucky dip?

The lucky dip was always worth investigating. You handed over your money, reached into a box of wrapped parcels and hoped for something decent.

Sometimes you scored a little toy or a bag of lollies. Other times you ended up with a plastic trinket that was probably worth less than the paper it came wrapped in.

Naturally, plenty of us went back for another go.

The chocolate wheel was another favourite, especially if the person running it had a good set of lungs. There’d be a crowd gathered around, clutching tickets and watching the wheel slow down, hoping their number would land on a box of chocolates or a hamper.

Meanwhile, the cake stall was doing a roaring trade. There were lamingtons (black or red), sponge cakes, chocolate crackles, yo-yos, honey joys, and biscuits made by mums and grandmothers who clearly knew their way around a kitchen. Some families had their favourites and made a beeline for the stall before the best offerings disappeared.

The white elephant stall was worth a look, too. This was where you could buy all sorts of things somebody else had decided they no longer needed.

Old books and board games sat alongside ornaments, kitchenware and the occasional electrical appliance that looked as though it might be dangerous to plug in. You could spend ages rummaging through it all.

I wonder how many parents ended up buying something they’d donated a few days earlier.

When the teachers let their hair down

Seeing your teachers outside the classroom was almost as entertaining as the stalls themselves.

There was something odd about watching a teacher who normally insisted on complete silence laughing and joking with parents or helping behind the barbecue. They suddenly turned into normal human beings.

And if your school had a stall where you could throw wet sponges at a teacher, or drop them in the water, you’d have been prepared to spend your last few coins having a crack.

The parents were everywhere. Someone’s dad would be cooking sausages while another parent tried to keep the cake stall stocked. Meanwhile, a father who’d been talked into announcing the raffle winners was battling a crackling, whistling microphone.

In smaller country communities, the fete was also an excuse for everyone to catch up. People would spend as much time talking as they did buying anything, and former students often came back to see familiar faces.

Of course, there was a serious reason behind all the fun. The money helped pay for things schools needed, from sporting equipment to library books, or perhaps improvements to the playground.

Most of the work fell to volunteers, and there was always a handful of parents who seemed to organise everything.

Did you win anything?

By the end of the day, the cake stall had been picked over, the lucky dip was nearly empty and the volunteers were looking forward to sitting down.

You’d head home with whatever your remaining pocket money had bought. Perhaps a second-hand book or comic, some lollies or a toy that would probably break within the next hour or two.

When you returned to school, everything was back where it belonged. The trestle tables had disappeared, the teachers were back to telling you to be quiet and there was no sign of the chocolate wheel.

Looking back, I wonder how much money some of those fetes actually raised, considering the work that went into them. I suspect plenty of parents would remember being absolutely exhausted by the end of the day.

And I wonder how many of us still have something tucked away in a drawer that we bought at a school fete all those years ago.

What do you remember most about your school fete? Did you ever win anything decent on the chocolate wheel?

This article is part of ‘Lessons That Last’, a new Starts At 60 series exploring the memories, traditions and school experiences that shape Australians across generations, presented in partnership with Schoolblazer Limited, a specialist school uniform company that works with hundreds of schools internationally. Through Lessons That Last, Starts At 60 is exploring the memories and experiences of school life across generations of Australians.

Also check out LESSONS THAT LAST: THE THINGS TEACHERS CONFISCATED