It wasn't the end of university or the breakdown of my first serious relationship but instead the closure of my primary school, Five Mile Tree Public School.

Hidden in the bushland between Binda and Bigga, the tiny institution at Crooked Corner is easy to miss. When I started there in 1991, there were only two buildings, a toilet block and a head count of less than a dozen.

To some people, this isolated education with only a handful of classmates may sound less than ideal, but sending me there was one of the best gifts my parents have given me.

Our lone teacher, the ever patient Jeanette Parker, presented my classmates and I with a plethora of learning options and unbound by structured classes and fellow students, we were allowed to work independently and at our own pace.

We were given opportunities that other students may have missed, travelling to writing workshops, outdoor lessons and - my personal favourite - Wonderland. We were given the attention that other teachers, stretched to their limits by overcrowded classes and under-funded subjects, sometimes can't afford.

The tiny school, started in 1892, boasted all the benefits of a regional facility with the bonuses of the bush. We had tennis courts and monkey bars, but we also had a nature area where we would learn about bush tucker and shake off fears of spiders and skinned knees.

My mother, a teacher herself, once told me a tale about a school's answering machine. Upon ringing, parents could press 1 if they wanted to discuss electives, 2 if they wanted to review their child's work or 3 if they wanted the school to raise their children for them.

While this may have been delivered as a joke, it had a ring of truth about it in regards to my education. My time at Five Mile Tree taught me as much about patience, loyalty and life itself as it did about grammar and maths.

Many of my fondest memories took place within the tree-lined confines of that school and it is with this article that I give it the respectful farewell it deserves.