It's been a few hours since my last Facebook login...

...and productivity has increased exponentially since I deactivated my account!

I have marked 30 (un)creative writing assignments, washed my car, cooked dinner for the family & am now settling in to do some work prep ahead of possibly baking some muffins. No adverse side-affects have been detected.


Oh shit, was this a status update?


'Like'

I've got an idea!

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/viralvacuum/glance/196755/kids-disappointed-about-disney-trip.glance

How about instead of a trip to either Chattanooga or Disneyworld or a car for McKenzie, they all go on a trip to Somalia & spend time in a refugee camp. Maybe then a sense of perspective will come & bite them all on the arse!

It's...

xox

Life after death.

Stop this, Conor O’Malley, the monster said, gently. This is why I came walking, to tell you this so that you may heal. You must listen.

Conor swallowed again. “I’m listening.”

You do not write your life with words, the monster said. You write it with actions. What you think is not important. It is only important what you do.

There was a long silence as Conor re-caught his breath.

“So what do I do?” he finally asked.

You do what you did just now, the monster said. You speak the truth.

“That’s it?”

You think it is easy? The monster raised two enormous eye-brows. You were willing to die rather than speak it.

Conor looked down at his hands, finally unclenching them.
“Because what I thought was so wrong.”

It was not wrong, the monster said, It was only a thought, one of a million. It was not an action.

Conor let out a long, long breath, still thick.

But he wasn’t choking. The nightmare wasn’t filling him up, squeezing his chest, dragging him down.

In fact, he didn’t feel the nightmare there at all.

From 'A Monster Calls' by Patrick Ness

READ IT!

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8621462-a-monster-calls

It's not just what I'm thinking about.

It's all.

  But I'm ok.

Forward thinker.

Admittance.

DON PEDRO
Will you have me, lady?

BEATRICE
No, my lord, unless I might have another for
working-days: your grace is too costly to wear
every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I
was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

DON PEDRO
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in
a merry hour.

BEATRICE
No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there
was a star danced, and under that was I born.

Copper wisdom.

“The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious, and may revolutionize a whole town. “
- Eleanor H. Porter

My message.

To all the Staff & Students of BCS

My thoughts have been with you all this week & like all of you I am still trying to make sense of everything.  Short distances have seemed far greater although things that may have irritated or aggravated have been pushed aside as completely trivial when you remember that we have lost a truly wonderful young man this week. Matt was someone whose kindness, humour and generosity knew no bounds & the world has truly been robbed of someone who would have only done good & done it with great style with no thoughts towards personal gain. There may be anger, disbelief and heartache & although it is no consolation at all, at least we all loved Matt enough to be hurting this much.  Please take good care of each other.

Dear Matt.
I know without any form of doubt that I am a better person for having known you, as is everyone who had the honour. Yours is a legacy of good humour, generous spirit, understanding & unwavering friendship. You were a true gentlemen who shall be greatly missed. You made me feel so welcome when I began teaching at BCS & your humour & randomness (which also knew NO BOUNDS!) I found very similar to my own. I remember being shocked when you got a haircut because up until then I didn’t know you actually had a forehead or TWO eyes under there! Laura said you used a hair-straightener…. I like to think it was all you buddy!

I always felt safe in the knowledge that you would make sure everyone would tell Miss Owen that we had done HEAPS of work in our Thursday drama lessons…  when the reality was that we often used it to refine our immense comedic skills & make height jokes about Laura. She couldn’t hit a teacher, so I’m afraid you & Luke had to cop the brunt of her fury… which never came up short! 

Your enthusiastic support of my Movember Moustache was thoroughly appreciated & many good times were spent practicing our outrrrrrrageous French accents. It was this kind of enthusiasm that led to Laura’s response yesterday when I told her that I sadly could not be here today: “That sucks so much. Tell your school to shove it anyway cos he would want the dirty Frenchman here!”.  

This has been a strange week. In the midst of immense sadness I have been offered some amazing opportunities for 2012 & beyond & I could not help but feel guilty for having such great plans in the pipeline, knowing that you too had great plans that now will sadly never be. Another thought struck me though. For those of us that are left, we remain to make you proud of all that we do. We owe it to you to be our best, to strive for more than we believe we are capable of and help others to do the same. Your absence must be filled not with eternal grief or guilt, but with passion, inspiration and love in the hope that when we meet again one day you’ll greet us with that trademark smile, put your arm around our shoulder & say “You did good!”.

With love, respect & limitless admiration,

Mr T

Ye be a bundle o' sticks!

On a jaunt to the theatre this afternoon with a dear friend of mine, I came across a former student who was just about to run,skip, jump, flip into his parkour regime for the day. He asked where I was working (Cue the Red Queens voice in my head!) & whether I would be returning to his school anytime soon. What I meant to say was "I would rather nail my tongue to the hoof of a rodeo bull!" but what I said was "No sorry, I'm moving to Melbourne". His automatic response was "Faggot!".

Que? Said I. "Look up the definition & then we'll talk". I began walking away.

Jovially, he replied "Faggot. Bundle of sticks. Poofter. Gaybo, Homo, Queer, whatever". Then he did a sideways somersault with a half-twist, probably trying to impress me. I was not impressed.

As I walked away with my dear friend, who, like me is all of the above (and one of the greatest people I have ever met!) I didn't know what to be saddest about. Should I once again lament upon the fact that the proper use of the english language is in danger of becoming extinct, or do I focus on what is most obvious: that the term Gay & all its sissy affiliates has become code-name for stupid or bad?
I get on really well with this student & he has shown himself to be a great kid in our past dealings, but it was extremely tempting to grab my friend & lay a passionate smooch on his lips just as a means of a reality check for him. Then again, this friend of mine IS a grand kisser, so I'm not too sure who the reality check would have benefitted ;-P.

I'm ever hopeful that the reason this problem is so widespread is because it has just become such an occasional word, like 'Shit!', 'Fuck!' etc & will hopefully one day, in the true course of things, be replaced with another subsequent word.
(Note: Word on the street is "That's so CHAT" means something is bad. In my day chat meant a conversation...)
As a teacher I hear it so frequently & I would be lying to say that it didn't make me both angry & sad in equal amounts. I wondered what would have been the result if I had as much assertive strength as I wished I possessed & had challenged him on what he'd said. I also wondered what the Copper Dragon at my side would think about such calm yet volatile diatribe & hope he wasn't as annoyed or saddened as I was.

I was however, overjoyed to return home to see another dear friend of mine had sent me this picture with the elegantly simple yet beautiful words  'This reminds me of you".

 
A friend with perspective.
A friend who can see both sides.
A friend whose expression says WTF!?! at the sheer lunacy of it all.
A friend who says 'I understand!".
A friend who I will always admire for his resoundingly joyful nature, sheer suavity, (amazing ability at twirling a cane!) & for his unwavering support & understanding. The battle shall never be over as long as there is one left to fight for it.
Luckily for us, such perspective is gathering momentum:

I've resolved to follow the example set by both Wanda & Hilary in my classes because even when challenged & told that it doesn't make sense to use the word 'gay' in that context, they JUST DON'T GET IT! It will be hard to walk the fine line of political correctness required as a teacher, but if that is my role, to teach, then let the lesson begin!

Fiction in a FLASH!

I wrote this flash fiction as a demonstration to my Year 9 classes who are currently learning about imagery. 

Hundreds of tiny figures stand close together and wait. Bright uniforms range from luminescent white to pink and crimson red. Steam rises like a flag, signalling the enemy that they are ready for battle. A shiver runs through the group as instruments of war claim their first victims, silently accepting their fate. The rest regroup clumsily, bracing themselves for another attack which could come from any angle. Red fire falls from the sky, coating them from head to toe. Sticky, grimy, slimy mess.  

The battle is lost as I reach for another spoonful of my delicious rice & chilli.

Sad but true.

The latitude and longitude of Newcastle, Australia is:

32° 55' 0" S / 151° 45' 0" E

Newcastle, Australia

Region: New South Wales
Country: Australia
Latitude: -32.916667
Longitude: 151.75


And if I can still be found here in January 2012, you need to ask me why & make me give a solid reason.

A Melbourne adventure.

9:22am Dukes Café

Check-in a breeze.
The flight to Melbourne was nothing.
A short trip on the Sky-bus proved simple.
Tram-Ride to Jon’s house = lots of fun.
(Sleeping on an inflatable mattress & his flatmate making popcorn at 12.45am… meh!)
Tram & train-ride to Prahrain early next morning= no sweat!

However, it was my feet that were the mode of transportation that eventually made me lose my composure. Or maybe I should say when my brain (which is attached to my head which is attached to my shoulders which are attached to my torso which is attached to my thighs which are attached to my knees which are attached to my calves which are attached to my ankles which are attached to my feet!) SAW those 4 incredible, amazing, inspiring yet nauseating, terror inducing letters: N.I.C.A, well… all bets were OFF!
I had to keep walking (despite the fact that I was 1hr 10min early). I had to find somewhere I could chill out as well as quieten my mind AND my nerves which is why I can be found here in Dukes Café, choking down a coffee & a piece of toast. I’ve found it rather (absurdly) amusing that I’ve gotten myself so worked up based on the hypothetical judgements and impressions of people I don’t even know yet. I have a brief list of trainers’ names but otherwise my fellow workshop participants are nameless and faceless as yet, so WHY has it affected me this much?

I wonder what it will be like when we’re all together for the first time.

I wonder if there’ll be harsh judgements or encouraging smiles.

I wonder if I’m going to be the most incompetent person in the room.

I wonder if they’re all thinking the exact same thing.

4:44 Train to Flinders St Station

They sure WERE! It was easy to identify who was part of the workshop as I could see in their eyes & body language the same self-effacing doubt I was feeling. Names were exchanged and a collective sigh of (almost) relief occurred, paving the way for friendly banter & brief descriptions of everyone’s specialities & origins. Phew!

Day 1 proved to highlight precisely what we’ve gotten ourselves in for & I have no doubts that no-one in the group would want it differently in any way, shape or form. Such a diverse group of people but a thoroughly supportive and entertaining dynamic is already present which is fantastic to witness as well as be a part of.
There were moments during the various sessions where I was well aware of my limitations but I pushed through regardless, which shows me that I need to do that more often if I’m to have any hope of earning a place at NICA.  I want to be there and I want all of those people to be there with me. 

I want to be part of this so much I even had a moment where I thought “Now I know how that little mermaid chick feels!” and then I progressed to wanting/needing to uppercut MYSELF for how lame that sounds!