Reflections 2024

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Reflections 2024

This publication comprises articles written by senior staff for the School’s weekly, BGGS News. As a collection, they provide the opportunity to reflect on the educational landscape of 2024 and the values, philosophy and direction of Brisbane Girls Grammar School.

Reflections 2024 also provides a platform for the voices of our students to be heard through their Perspectives articles.

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Reflections 2024

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Can a lady protest too much? Lessons in life from Danish royalty.

Ms Jo Genders, Director of English

THURSDAY 25 JANUARY 2024

The surprise abdication in January of Denmark’s Queen Margrethe II, after a 52-year reign, stirred within me a peculiar mix of emotions. Not due to any fervent allegiance to the Danish Royal Family—beyond the collective ownership of 'Our Mary'—but rather because it mirrors a recent event in the English curriculum. The Queensland Curriculum and Assessment Authority's decision to stand down Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the booklist has left us all a little sad. A mainstay of the BGGS Year 12 English course for more than half a century, Hamlet—which follows the story of the eponymous Danish prince—has been much cherished and inspired many a Grammar girl to reflect closely on the play’s universal relevance.

One of our more popular assessments saw girls make connections with the play by exploring its intersection with their own lives. Observations were diverse—from comments on the resonance with overbearing parenting styles, to discussions of the ways 17th-Century gender double standards have hardly moved on. Many noted how Hamlet’s procrastination reflected their own fear of making big decisions, especially in the face of tertiary admissions processes. But what did emerge consistently is that despite great affection for the play, the titular character himself offers little in the way of good role modelling to young women. So, as we think about our own goals for 2024, and in some form of farewell to both Great Danes, Queen Margrethe and Prince Hamlet alike, I reflect on the instructive lessons that

each offers to our Grammar girls—a study in ‘what to be, or what not to be’, to borrow the young prince’s own famous words.

1. Adopt a positive mindset.

Putting aside debate around inherited privilege, Queen Margrethe exemplifies the growth that can arise from a positive mindset. Her destiny pre-determined, Margrethe’s stoicism in assuming the throne at just 31 years of age was evident when she declared, 'The task my father carried now rests on my shoulders. I pray for the strength to carry the heavy heritage’. As the world's longest-serving female monarch, Queen Margrethe's extraordinary popularity, which in recent years counted the support of over 80 per cent of Danes, is undoubtedly attributed to her wholehearted embrace of her responsibilities. Meanwhile in the fictional castle of Elsinore, Hamlet’s personal growth is hampered by his incessant complaints about his situation. When he moans that his very existence is a ‘cursed spite’ and tells anyone who’ll listen that he’s trapped in the ‘prison’ of Denmark, he highlights how ill-equipped he is to navigate challenges with strength and grace. It’s indeed ironic that Hamlet himself reminds us of the transformative power of a positive mindset when he says, ‘there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so’.

2. Be decisive.

Often, decisions that seem unpopular in the short term, contribute to long-term success. Faced with strong reactions to her decision to strip four of her grandchildren of their royal titles, Margrethe issued an apology but refused to back down. Her insistence that the change would ‘future-proof the monarchy’ showed Margrethe to be a forward-thinking woman of conviction. Hamlet, by contrast, can barely make a decision at all. His obsessive thinking paralyses him, and his extensive rumination (evident in his seven lengthy soliloquies) means he never really accomplishes anything; in his own words he is ‘John-a-Dreams’ entirely ‘unpregnant of [his] cause’. Hamlet—perhaps the poster boy for ‘all talk and no action’—reminds us of the role decisiveness and courage in our own convictions plays in personal growth.

3. Hold your ground.

Margrethe's resistance to manipulation stands in stark contrast to Hamlet's vulnerability to pressure. We need look no further than the simmering discontent of her husband, Prince Henrik and his ultimatum that unless ‘she makes me a king consort’ he would not be buried in the official royal resting place alongside his wife. Henrik’s tantrum, however, did little to shake his steely wife, who upon his death in 2018, scattered half his ashes across the Danish seas and placed the rest in a private section of Fredensborg Palace gardens in a symbolic display of her refusal to yield. The monumental glass sarcophagus at Roskilde Cathedral, which will house only her, is testament to Margrethe’s resolve, even in matters of eternal rest. Hamlet, meanwhile, allows himself to be intimidated by everyone. He signs away his moral conscience when he makes a violent pact with a ghost resembling his late father to exact revenge against the new king, and then beats himself up when he falls short. Later in the play, he lets his stepfather get under his skin, allowing the tyrant to ship him off to England without so much as a whimper.

Hamlet’s surrender to those who push him around robs him of the growth that can happen when we stick to our guns with determination and assertiveness.

4. Be prepared to challenge bad behaviour.

Margrethe was much praised for her televised address to the nation during the height of the pandemic. The Queen’s ‘cruel to be kind’ reprimand of those still hosting celebrations as ‘unacceptable, thoughtless, and inconsiderate,’ prompted one Dane to proudly declare her a ‘stern mother telling us off—it only added to her popularity and respect’. Hamlet’s terribly misplaced admonishment of human transgressions exposes his lack of insight. Rather than direct the blame for his father’s murder where it lies (with the silver-tongued Claudius), his cruel jibes about his mother, the Danish Queen (‘Frailty, thy name is woman!’ is one of his tamer insults) highlight a lack of the kind of measured and constructive reprimand that can be effective in fostering positive change and growth in others.

5. ‘To thine own self be true.’

A fearless pursuit of passions and interests contributes to long-term wellbeing and fulfillment. From her study in prehistoric archaeology, to her unconventional work as a theatre costume designer and illustrator, to her flamboyant outfits, Margrethe’s refusal to let others dictate the terms of her life has ensured she will be long-remembered for her uniqueness. Hamlet, by contrast, is so preoccupied with his own inadequacy that he loses himself in the process, forgetting his childhood love for the theatre, for example, and instead becoming a kind of actor bogged down by pretence and duplicity. Hamlet’s deathbed instruction that Horatio ‘tell [his] story’ must have left his lifelong friend wondering which of Hamlet’s qualities he could possibly acclaim.

6. Take the driver’s seat.

Making decisive choices affords us confidence to grow. Ever the engineer of her own life, Margrethe’s decision to relinquish the throne—the first Danish monarch to do so in almost 1000 years—highlights her faith in her own agency. If only Hamlet had exercised such autonomy. From blaming politics, his mother, even the universe, his litany of complaints exposes his reluctance to take personal responsibility. In fact, his famous line, ‘there is great providence in the fall of a sparrow’, reveals his hope that external forces will make his decisions for him and his willingness to forsake any role in his own life. When Norwegian Prince Fortinbras declares that Hamlet would have ‘proved most royally’ had he survived the play’s tragic ending, we’re left wondering if Hamlet's abdication of responsibility made him fit to rule at all.

So, while we in the English Faculty bid farewell to Hamlet and the Danish people farewell their Queen, we can reflect thoughtfully on the life lessons from each. A comparison of the mindsets and actions of these two Danish royals—one real and the other literary—allows us to see the importance of positivity, decisiveness, resilience, and personal agency in creating and sustaining a fulfilling life. At the start of a new year, there is value in considering how adopting these dispositions can help guide us through life’s challenges and uncertainties, so we can look toward 2024 and the future with a sense of optimism and excitement.

SARA KORMAN / 10O

Reflection on Friendship

Mrs Sybil Edwards, English Teacher and Head of Lilley House

FRIDAY 2 FEBRUARY 2024

Every year at an orientation afternoon tea, I ask incoming Year 7 students to fill in a sheet highlighting their hopes for the year ahead. Almost without exception, they state that they wish to make friends. Let’s face it, having friends is one of the joys of life—they make the highs more enjoyable, the lows more bearable and learning at school easier. Just as some students are gifted in Maths or are talented musicians, some students have a knack for making friends. They draw people to them and can navigate group situations confidently. Conversely, some students struggle to initiate or deepen friendships, feel anxious about facing new social situations, and worry about how to join or leave friendship groups. As we finish up the first few weeks of the School year, I wonder how those girls, now Year 7 students, are faring in this very important part of School life. Here are a few thoughts about the friendship challenges of the School journey, and some advice for parents about how they can support their daughters.

Firstly, our new Year 7 Grammar girls! They may have come to BGGS with many other students from the same primary school, or perhaps she arrived knowing no one. Either way, their House Groups will consist of many completely new faces that will accompany her throughout her six years at BGGS. Having most lessons with this group means that the Year 7s will get to know their House Group quite quickly. But, that does not mean that their first impressions of their classmates will be accurate. Shyer, more introverted students take their time to relax and reveal their true personalities, while some more extroverted types may seek attention to, in fact, cover their insecurities. It is quite rare that the first friend that the girls make will be the one that lasts the distance. It may take them a long time to make friends, and this is completely normal. I encourage parents to support their daughter to be open to her whole class, to smile and engage in conversation, be brave and ask other students if she can sit with them at lunch, join co-curricular activities and attend lunchtime

activities such as Pay It Forward, Libellum and PAL (Play at Lunch). Our school psychologists also offer help in a group or individual setting to students who struggle to make friends.

PARENT TIP: the one thing parents can do is to normalise the struggle, and try to avoid interrogating their daughter every day about who she sat with at lunch (as tempting as it may be!).

Now some advice for older students and their parents. Each year brings new opportunities to make new friends, even for Year 12 students. Groups are not set in concrete, and navigating changing friendships means practising important life skills not just specific to school. It’s a blessing if a student is not in a core class with her best friend, or once again must meet completely new classmates. Having a wide group of friends means that if there are tensions with a particular friend, they have other lunchtime or social options. Keeping up with friends from primary school or other family friends is also a great idea to provide connections away from School. The biggest support that parents can provide is to reassure their daughters that they believe they have the confidence and the attributes to make new friends and navigate issues. Sometimes when parents have had problems making friends or have suffered from social anxiety, it is tricky to keep their daughter’s difficulties in perspective. Providing an empathetic ear without feeding anxieties is the key to managing their daughter’s distress. It is a difficult task—we all want to ‘fix’ what we perceive to be an issue—but very important.

As we look to the rest of 2024, know that in the life of a teenage girl, there will be ups and downs, moments of loneliness, drama, and anger. There will also be plenty of laughter, exciting new friendships to discover and comfortable old friendships to provide support in the classrooms and grounds at BGGS.

Managing all these experiences is all part of students’ education, and it is just as important as any academic subject.

JASMINE PATTEN (9H)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

ALISA WANG (9R)

Keeper of Books

Ms Rachael Christopherson, Director of Library and Information Services

FRIDAY 9 FEBRUARY 2024

The unofficial mascot of the Girls Grammar reading club, the Libellum Society (est. 2001), is a life-sized, black-feathered owl whose eyes flash a menacing red when you flick the switch on its back. This owl was a regular feature at many of the Libellum literary events from 2007 to 2022: hiding in the bushes at the Alice in Wonderland café; perched on the long tables at the Harry Potter Hard Quiz; and peering from the shadows at the ‘Murder in a Teacup’ Year 7 Welcome lunch. It belonged to Leia Kirkham (2022), a long-standing member and sometimes captain of Libellum, whose love of books and sharing the magic of stories was evident in her committed contribution to Libellum events from when she joined the Society in Year 7 to when she graduated in Year 12. At Libellum’s farewell party for the Year 12 members in 2022, Leia handed on the baton to the club members by gifting us the owl. Not long after, I came across a postcard in a bookstore that featured a black owl, and the caption, ‘Keeper of Books’. Both are now aptly installed in the Libellum Society meeting room in the Beanland Memorial Library.

A ‘Keeper of Books’ is a meaning not lost on the devoted bibliophiles of the Libellum Society, or on its coordinator: me. I learned from a young age the value of books and the rich enjoyment that can be gained from reading. It was my paternal nanna who instilled this love of books in me. On long May and December holidays in the small seaside town of Kingscliff, my siblings and I were left for many weeks in the care of our grandparents. A regular outing for us was a visit to the Kingscliff library. It was a small, one-roomed, demountable building with creaking floorboards, colourful beanbags and just one librarian. But there were enough

books to keep us mesmerised for hours, and we always seemed to have trouble deciding on which ones to borrow without exceeding our loan limit. After each morning spent at the beach, we always spent the afternoon resting and reading. My nanna liked books about faraway places, fascinating explorers, artists, designers and chefs. She travelled the world in her books but never left Australia’s shores. There weren’t many books in the Kingscliff beach house—that’s what the library was for—but there were two of nanna’s favourite novels that all of us devoured: M.M. Kaye’s The Far Pavillions and The Shadow of the Moon. Kaye’s vivid descriptions of eighteenth-century India, with so many interesting characters, and plots of adventure, romance, and intrigue, captured my imagination. In 2015 when I wandered the passageways of the Red Fort in Delhi, I was transported to those stories that I had read so long ago. For years, I have been giving Kaye’s books to family and friends, wanting to share with them a story that for me, is more than a narrative: it is an experience, a feeling and a memory of my nanna and those sleepy Kingscliff days.

The connection that we sometimes experience with a really good book is hard to capture. Marcus Zusak described it this way: ‘Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you’ve finished just to stay near it.’ Books have that effect on people. The Japanese refer to this as ‘nutsukashii’, which describes a feeling of fondness or gratitude for a treasured memory—that we return to many times—such as one that comes from a well-loved book.. Whenever I finish a great book, I can’t wait to share it with my students. I want to tell them all about the story, the characters, the writing, and about how it made me feel. I want

them to experience the delight of a gripping suspense story, a moving drama, or a laugh-out-loud comedy.

This connection is expanded through the curation of a collection. We all know where the good books can be found—a good bookstore, or a well-resourced library. When I travel, I inevitably end up in a bookstore or library, for hours. An essential stop in Paris is Shakespeare and Company beside Notre Dame, or the fantastic second-hand bookstores in London’s laneways, and of course the Readings bookshops in Melbourne. Recently, I spent a few days in Sydney and spent nearly two days in the NSW State Library, and that still wasn’t enough time to do justice to exploring the Shakespeare Room or the Map Room.

You see libraries and bookstores are special places, which house incredible treasures. Our own Grammar collection is no exception. Some of the precious books in the Beanland collection include, The Grammar of Ornament: A Visual Reference of Form and Colour in Architecture and the Decorative Arts (1928) by Owen Jones, an exquisite A3-sized visual publication gifted to the School by former Art teacher, Vera Cottew in 1947; John Austen’s 1922 illustrated Hamlet Prince of Denmark, with its ornate Art Deco designs; or the intriguing illustrated books on Marine Science or Palaeontology. Of course, the vast collection of fiction titles is also a treasure.

A well-curated collection that will entice a many varied reader is essential to a school library. In his poem, ‘Half-priced Hardback’, Les Murray lamented the disappearance of bookstores fearing there would be:

no history…

nothing strange. No poetry. No local memoirs, no spirit, no religion, no theory, little foreign except tourist guides,

Thankfully, the Beanland Library (named for Sophia Beanland, Lady Principal 1882-1889) continues to grow, and our collection is shaped by our community’s interests and needs, and by the curation of a passionate library staff. From 1884 when Sophia Beanland first set up her bookshelf, books, and indeed the library itself, have been covered and catalogued, treasured, explored, hidden and found again.

It was a humbling privilege to be entrusted with the stewardship of the Beanland collection in 2022 after Kristine Cooke’s 25 years of meticulous care. To be the next ‘Keeper’ of such a priceless collection is a responsibility I value immensely. Not long after I had moved into her office in the far corner of the first floor of the library, the library team and I were alerted to a ruckus outside our windows. The crows and noisy miners were bothered by something hidden in the shade of the trees just outside the library staffroom. Peering through the glass we were astounded and delighted to see that staring out at us was a beautiful, white, barn owl.

Feelin' Groovy

Mr Andrew Pennay, Director of Creative Arts

FRIDAY 16 FEBRUARY 2024

If life is like a box of chocolates, then the history of Brisbane Girls Grammar School is certainly like a vinyl record. So, let’s warm up with a problem: How long is Side A of the original release of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme by Simon and Garfunkel? Email me your answers to for a chance to win! Yes, there are prizes.

In working through this problem, you may encounter some frustrations. In short, I haven’t made life easy. Is there a right answer? How much historical context is relevant, but missing? Which other aspects of the problem remain veiled? Do I expect you to answer in ‘minutes’ or in ‘metres’? Must you show your working? Why is there more than one prize? As we dig deeper: Should a linear measurement include the micro-oscillations?

Do I want you to only measure ‘sounds’, or also the ‘sounds of silence’? Kids, your (grand)parents will explain this last queasy quip. Sit with the problem as a family, then email me.

Problem (re)solving

In the same way that the questions above cannot be answered neatly, learning experiences in our Creative Arts subjects centre around a largely tacit proposition: traditional takes on problem solving are insufficient in our current era. Instead, more creative problem resolving pushes us towards less systematic ways of thinking, less formulaic methods, and less standardised responses. In other words, arts learning can actually thrive when empiricism, quantification, mathematical proficiency and even assessment validity give way to subjective interpretation, intuition, ambiguity, expressiveness and artistry.

To further illustrate this problematisation of problems, let’s look inside Ms Eadie’s Visual Art classroom, just as she presents a class of learners with a new artistic problem. The girls are to represent themselves through a sculpture made entirely of cardboard. Soon enough, a single solution is found through the engineered structure, the scale, the texture, and the palette, but the slower resolution of this particular problem will likely linger across the year(s). ‘I just don’t know who I am!’, cries one girl … but she’s only just begun! Ms Eadie pushes on to curate the necessary collective introspection (and ensembled individualism) that these learners need, and they tackle the problem together/alone/in earnest.

Creative problems—both in schools, and the wider world—are therefore often resolved in teams, with (obviously) a whole bunch of creativity.

Beyond this, their resolution may take iterative, visual, physical, ephemeral, multiplicitous forms. Imagine that: real problems that cannot be solved by an individual in a two-hour handwritten test! How fantastic! In fact, how essential!

To acknowledge that life—full of collaboration, uncertainty, not-yets, design labs, and glorious problem resolution—is not always like school, is to reveal a disconnect: to be frank, all schools stigmatise non-standardisation. Although a life of resolution over solution naturally sits well with children, such a view of learning is provocative and counter-cultural in our neoliberal climate. Increasingly, when Arts teachers ask questions that genuinely have no set answer (or suggest that responses may be founded on physical expression or artistic interpretation), people make wild leaps to panic about 1)

the economic utility of the subject, and 2) the subject’s suitability for standardised testing. Students also fall into a groove of consumption: Is there an exemplar? Will this be on the test? Internationally, there is a trend away from the groove of a broad, liberal education.

Interlude: A very short history of groove

In Medieval times, a groover in a groove was a miner in a mine. By the nineteenth century, a ‘groove’ had come to signify a routine, narrow ‘rut’, but phonographs and then jazz propagated more positive connotations for the term.1

By Simon and Garfunkel’s time, records were well and truly (and literally) groovy, as physical manifestations of sound carved into vinyl channels to be interpreted by a needle, amplifier, speaker, then groovy listener. 2

Slow down, you move too fast

We dropped the needle on the Brisbane Girls Grammar School record in 1875, just two years before Thomas Edison invented the phonograph. In perceiving our 149-year history as being somewhat akin to Side A of a long play vinyl record, some playful observations start to follow.

For the School, our singular groove (aka culture) has deepened to embrace a fuller understanding of what a life enriched by learning might entail. Through a variety of tracks, beyond the scope of this article, we have seen a continued evolution of our own culture through waxing and waning political and School-based imperatives. If nothing else, Side A of our School history—our groove—has played out as ‘relentless work’ in navigating classicism, pragmatism, utilitarianism, and liberalism.3

To spin the metaphor further, let’s explore the phenomenon of inner-groove distortion: the closer we get to the centre of a record, the more compressed things become, with the needle travelling an ever-shorter distance each revolution. In other words, the same amount of music is squashed to take up less space. This inner-groove distortion is a real issue in the music business, resulting in unwanted audio artefacts when music is too loud or bassy near the centre of the disc.

Such a physical constraint has led to a creative resolution in the world of vinyl pressing. To escape this potential acoustic warp, artists and labels often close each side of a vinyl record with a quiet ballad. Feelin' Groovy, and the timeless/classic Wham!’s Careless Whisper, are obvious examples. Even Harry Styles finishes Side A of his self-titled vinyl release with the acoustic ballad Sweet Creature.

Beyond vinyl, though, the concept of inner-groove distortion provides the opportunity to reconsider the compression of time seen in schools in recent decades. Globally, school life proceeds with inadequate pause, rushed change, and dwindling engagement of the ‘listener’, time after time. 4 As such, Girls Grammar’s pending 150th anniversary provides an important opportunity for a slow dance, perhaps a quieter, less bassy moment in which to consider next moves.

Record breaking

Some records are worth breaking entirely, or at least flipping over.5 In any case, in this closing ballad of our School’s Side A, we ask what the next 150 years of Brisbane Girls Grammar School might offer: The swift adoption of a broader range of perspectives? Ever-wider exposure to a life of joyful uncertainty? Collaboration as the very basis for senior assessment? (Shock!) An incessant drive for human-centric creativity in an age of artificial intelligence? The dwindling of a neoliberal push towards ever-more standardised senior assessment?

If any of these questions have ‘legs’, we need to pursue them at a national and state level. But, again, I’m getting ahead of myself. When Paul Simon wrote Feelin' Groovy, he was clear about intentional brevity and the need to slow down. He summarised his position well in The New Yorker: ‘When you've made your impression, stop’.

So, on that note, I look forward to your creative resolution by way of an emailed response: Again, how long is Side A of the original release of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme by Simon and Garfunkel? And, in fact, I’m offering bonus points: What do you think awaits us on the Girls Grammar Side B?

References

1 Whatever you do, don’t consult The Oxford Dictionary of Music, unless you intend to discover—by its notable absence in the text—that the term ‘groove’ is not associated with ‘Music’! From this text and context, we might go further to infer that music is most esteemed when it lacks groove, and when it is composed by dead, white men to be consumed by tired couples in expensive concert halls.

2 As you may now know, if you opted to listen with a stopwatch in hand, S&G’s gentle ditty The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy) closes Side A of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Young learners are always keen to unpack this final/ultimate definition of ‘groove’!

3 McWilliam, E. (2013). Educating girls. University of Queensland Press.

4 Another Side A closing track, this time by Cyndi Lauper!

5 For instance, here I am, a male author celebrating a male inventor, male performance duos, and (perhaps, in the eyes of our students) the most famous current male solo artist. Talk about falling victim to the old ‘rut’ of male perennialism in the arts!

6 Stevenson, J. (1967, August 26). Simon & Garfunkel: The music duo discusses poetry, popularity, and pain. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/ magazine/1967/09/02/simon-and-garfunkel

POPPY M c GUIRE (10E)

The Complex Unfamiliar Problem

Dr Peter Jenkins, Head of Department—Mathematics Curriculum Development

FRIDAY 23 FEBRUARY 2024

The bane of many secondary school mathematics students is the complex unfamiliar problem. As the name suggests, these problems are both complex (requiring knowledge of multiple concepts to complete several steps) and unfamiliar (different to problems already practiced).

To complete such problems, students need a conceptual understanding of, and flexibility with, mathematical techniques. Although they are based on concepts and techniques that students have been studying, their unpredictable nature means that even the best mathematics students find them challenging—particularly in a supervised examination, when panic can sometimes compromise the ability to think clearly and calmly.

It’s tempting to ask why schools include these problems on examinations given the distress they can provoke. The most obvious reason is that they appear on all senior mathematics exams (including all external exams), and the more students practice them throughout Years 7 to 11, the better equipped they will be when it matters most.

At a deeper level though, the ability to face and solve unfamiliar problems is one of the most important skills we need our future generation of professionals to possess, regardless of field. This ability is also the essence of mathematical thinking: mathematics is not only about practicing and mastering rules. Much more importantly, it’s about developing a deep understanding of abstract patterns and structures. Why? So we create new, or adapt existing, rules and procedures to solve problems we haven’t yet encountered.

While students typically understand these reasons, a common response is still ‘Why do you have to make them so hard?’

Of course, we don’t go out of our way to make them difficult. We design problems to be appropriate for the given Year level or course; their very nature is what makes them seem hard, especially when one is under time pressure and without access to any resources. It is not easy to apply appropriate mathematical tools to unfamiliar problems, particularly as students are still building their understanding and mastery of topics. While we hope students develop their skills to progress with these problems, it would be a mistake to think that competence with the complex unfamiliar problem is all that matters.

These problems comprise only 20 per cent of the marks in any exam (including external exams), which means that students can still perform quite well in mathematics, even in the worst-case scenario where little to no progress is made in these questions. We point this out to students not to suggest that attempting these problems is futile, but rather to take the pressure off, so that they perceive such problems more like ‘bonus opportunities’ to demonstrate their skills. This can dramatically reduce student anxiety and support them to think more clearly in the face of the challenge. Although completely solving such problems may be out of reach for some students at a particular point in time, it will often be possible for them to at least make a start and receive partial credit; this should obviously be celebrated when it happens as it indicates progress.

So, how does a student improve their ability to solve these problems (and all the other complex unfamiliar problems the world may throw at them)?

Students will have little chance of making any progress in complex unfamiliar problems unless they have thoroughly mastered key concepts and techniques. Imagine a player attempting a challenging level in a video game without having completed the previous levels. They may have the best problemsolving abilities in the world, but if they haven’t mastered the relevant moves in earlier levels, they’ll have little chance of making progress in a more challenging one. It’s easy to underestimate the amount of practice needed for a new mathematical concept or technique to be mastered, and most importantly retained. Students who learn something once, then revise it just before an exam will almost certainly not have a firm grasp of it. Instead, students must allocate some time each week to reviewing topics studied weeks or even months earlier.

It’s important for students to take advantage of every opportunity to practice such problems. As with any new concept, the more experience students have tackling complex problems, the better. Most students practice diligently—but fall into the trap of only practicing problems they have previously been shown how to do—waiting to be shown how to do something unfamiliar before practicing it. There is a certain logic to this—it enables such students to be efficient and often do reasonably well. But there is a downside if they are too entrenched in this mode of learning. Consider the video game analogy again—this time imagine that our player attempting the challenging level did complete all previous levels, but did so by following instructions found on the internet. This is not all bad; the player will have practiced the relevant moves and likely be able to make some progress in the more difficult level. But they will neither be proficient in choosing the right move without instruction, nor be accustomed to the feeling of not knowing exactly what to do and being forced to try something new (knowing it may fail). These skills have been sacrificed for efficiency in passing earlier levels with minimal time and effort, and avoiding the initial discomfort of feeling stuck, or even failing. Not only will this tactic ultimately not serve our player well, it also takes much of the joy out of playing video games in the first place!

Mathematics learning is not exactly like a video game. The ‘moves’ you make when solving a mathematics problem often took the greatest minds in history years to develop. They require skilful explanation and teacher demonstration for students to learn how to implement them. That said, there are still many situations in which students should not be shown the way forward, and instead need to practice making leaps on their own.

In the classroom, teachers provide students with opportunities to practice ‘making leaps’ in a structured, safe, environment. Learning activities are carefully designed to help students build their confidence, creative thinking and decision-making skills, and depth of understanding. Even in traditional teacher-led lessons—when a teacher is going through a worked example— there are moments in which they’ll pause and ask students to try to work out what the next move could be. It’s tempting in these moments for students to remain quiet and wait for another student to answer, or for the teacher to explain it. But, this is exactly the moment that is crucial for students to be fully engaged in thought—about possible next steps, how the ideas could be generalised or adapted, and so on. By engaging in this process, valuable class discussions transpire whereby students will ask whether their idea would still work, or why using another method might not be as beneficial. Subtleties of concepts are explored, mistakes can be made with no consequences, and connections between different concepts are made. Incidentally, this is part of the reason why it’s often very challenging to help students catch up after missing numerous mathematics lessons. They can readily obtain class notes, homework exercises and problem sheets, but they’ve missed out on experiences that strengthen their understanding and ability to cope with novel ideas.

Outside of class, students may feel helpless when they encounter difficulties without a teacher to assist. However, feeling stuck and being forced into proceeding unassisted is crucially important for their development. The best mathematics students don’t mind repetitive practice of

techniques, but more importantly, they look forward to tackling something that’s not easy. They’ll try something, realise it’s not working, then try something else. If nothing is working, they may go back over their notes from class, find an online resource to give them a different take on the concept, or practice related, easier problems. Whenever a student has been unable to solve a problem, but can tell or show their teacher three things that

they tried, that student is going to do well in the long term. Conversely, when students are too afraid to take risks and instead spend their time exclusively polishing notes or repeating procedures they’ve already been shown, they risk failing to develop the important learning habits that ultimately lead to long-term success (not to mention, they deny themselves the joy and richness of the complex unfamiliar experience)!

KYLEEN TSENG (10H)

SCARLETT COOKE (9H)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Rhythm and Rituals

Mrs Sally Callie, Year 7-9 Advisor and Science Teacher

FRIDAY 1 MARCH 2024

As Term 1 unfolds, Brisbane Girls Grammar School is alive with the vibrant energy from House parties, where creativity knows no bounds. Students raided dress-up boxes, explored second-hand shops, and even ventured into their parents' 1990s wardrobes, resulting in a kaleidoscope of outfits proudly showcasing their House allegiances. From purple wigs and fluoro orange legwarmers to white angel wings, the School transformed into a lively spectacle. With the upbeat tunes of Taylor Swift resonating from the Cherrell Hirst Creative Learning Centre, students relished in pizza and House-coloured cake, and engaged in spirited games like Knights, Mounts, Cavaliers. While these gatherings may, on the surface, appear as frivolous fun, they set the stage for a series of events and traditions that collectively weave the fabric of our School culture, known as School spirit.

Similar to the way significant dates shape our lives, symbolic events at the School create a distinctive rhythm, fostering a profound sense of belonging and identity among students. Assemblies such as the Induction of Student Leaders and reading of Speech Day prizes—at the start and end of each year—serve as pillars that unite the School community, providing a platform to recognise new beginnings, celebrate achievements, and bid farewell to the passing year. The collective voices of a thousand students singing ‘Nil Sine Labore’ or chanting the School war cry, arms entwined, serve as tangible and spirited reminders of our shared vision and community spirit.

Beyond the classroom, Interhouse competitions, exemplified by the recent Interhouse Swimming Carnival, hold a significant place in the School calendar and draw enthusiastic

participation and certainly, nurture House spirit. However, it is the smaller, idiosyncratic events and traditions unique to BGGS that contribute to the cultivation of a rich and cherished culture. This was made clear to me when I asked some students about what makes our school unique. A Year 12 Lilley student told me it was the tunnel created by the House to welcome new students during their first House assembly. A Gibson student described the tradition of each Year 7 student pledging the Gibson oath as she is ‘knighted’ by her Year 12 buddy at their first assembly. Other students highlighted traditions like Blue Days and recent events like Galentine's Day, where pink tutus, red ribbons, face paint, hearts, and streamers transformed the School into a sea of pink. These events go beyond being breaks from the ordinary; they provide shared experiences and a sense of community strength as girls unite to support each other and contribute to the broader community.

Throughout history, the significance of rituals in providing rhythm, order, and meaning in the lives of communities has been recognised by churches and religions. The strongest cultures are steeped in traditions that bind people and mark their lives with significant moments. As Brisbane Girls Grammar School approaches its 150th year, there is much to celebrate. The School's culture is rich, and its traditions are robust. A well-established House system, robust Arts, Sports, and Service programs, and opportunities for student leadership contribute to a profound sense of belonging and school connectedness. It is essential not to underestimate the importance of seemingly trivial traditions and rituals, including songs, war cries, parties, and assemblies, in shaping a thriving Girls Grammar community.

A matter of wisdom, virtues and skills (not scaling)

Dr Rashna Taraporewalla, Head of Department—Ancient History

FRIDAY 15 MARCH 2024

The ATAR (Australian Tertiary Admission Rank) Report for the cohort of 2023 was released in February (QTAC, 2024). Ostensibly, it reports the calculation of ATAR, along with the outcomes of the inter-subject scaling process for Year 12 students who graduated in 2023. As educators are witnessing, however, the ATAR has had a transformative effect on senior secondary schooling, with increasing numbers of students pursuing a ‘quest for a higher score’ (Geelan, 2020), rather than selecting subjects about which they are passionate. This subject scaling, in turn, can influence students’ and families’ subject choices and their evaluation of the worth of a subject.

This was not the intent of the scaling process, which aims only ‘to express subject results on the same scale, so that raw results achieved in two different subjects can be compared fairly’, and applies only to the results of a specific cohort in a given year (QTAC, 2022). To value subjects based upon ‘how they scale’ is problematic for a multitude of reasons, especially given that it is not the same from year to year, or across all percentiles—that is, a subject will scale differently for a student who receives a result of, say, 58, than it does for a student who receives a result of 98. To use scaling as an index of the worth of a subject can be equally damaging for both subjects that are perceived to ‘scale up’ and those that are perceived to ‘scale down’. Those that ‘scale up’ begin to attract students without an aptitude or an interest in the subject.

Those that ‘scale down’ are diminished by the tyranny of metrics, undervalued with fewer and fewer students in their classrooms. Research indicates that fixation on academic scores can profoundly impact the mental health of students (Wallace, 2023). According to a U.S. study, fixating on scores competitively can result in a marked increase in student levels of anxiety (Wallace, 2023). What is more, these mindsets, behaviours and coping skills can stay with them into their twenties and thirties; results that hold an ephemeral value as a means by which to access a tertiary education, can potentially cast a long shadow.

In a school such as ours, which strives to prepare girls for full, rewarding lives beyond graduation—not merely academic success—we know there are other, more appropriate, ways by which to value a subject.

We could, instead, value subjects in terms of the level of personal enjoyment and fulfillment they provide students when engaging with their content and mode of thinking. According to this method, each individual would have a different metric for each subject. Quite rightly. One of the tragedies of applying the utilitarian calculus of scaling to gauge the worth of a subject is the funnelling effect this has, such that the majority of students all take a very similar suite of a limited six (perhaps 7) subjects. As a result, is our

educational ecosystem increasingly producing deeply unhappy, identical copies of a high circumscribed learning profile? And yet, we know that the loves and loathes of each individual are unique. Norse mythology held that each individual had their own personal destiny, their wyrd, from which our modern word ‘weird’ is derived. Neuroscientists confirm that each of us has a unique network of 100 trillion synaptic connections, in which the 100 billion neurons in our brain each make at least 1000 connections with other neurons (Zimmer, 2011). To try to comprehend this number, consider that 400 billion stars exist in the Milky Way galaxy—a human brain contains more connections than 5000 Milky Ways.

There has never been anybody else in the world like you, with the same constellation of connections, nor will there likely be anyone like you again; your galaxy of connections spiral in entirely unique rotations. What delights you, excites you, stimulates you, animates you, places you into a calm state of flow, is yours and yours alone. Young people should thus be urged to use their secondary school years to find their own unique pattern of loves, and to pursue them through their own combination of subjects in which they personally find value, for these will surely lead them to their own distinct, meaningful contribution during the infinitesimal time they have upon this planet. Anything less is a recipe for an unhappy life, one in which they will find themselves busily occupied by things approved of by others, but with an attendant vague anxiety that their life has not achieved its ultimate meaning and significance. Education thus becomes an exercise in survival, an effort to complete the exams and assignments necessary to secure a precious passport out of this world— an ATAR—in a gloomy procession from primary school to secondary school, to university to work. Students become passengers in their own lives, lived at the mercy of a fickle algorithm that changes from year to year.

Further, the focus on such results reflects a utilitarian and economic logic, narrowly aimed at acquiring what David Brooks (2015) refers to as ‘resume virtues’, the skills an

individual brings to the job market. The increasingly competitive consumer marketplace encourages us to value subjects according to their ability to confer these resume virtues. And yet, we are aware that education is now outpaced by the speed of change in today’s world, that the skills and facts taught at school cannot equip young people to excel in their chosen field. It is impossible to prepare learners for jobs we cannot conceive of yet, and reskilling the workers of today in even perennial occupations such as medicine, teaching and auto construction is a constant challenge. Moreover, it is doubtable that most leaners in science classrooms are there to become physicists, chemists or biologists, just as it is questionable that a history classroom will produce professional historians, or a mathematics classroom, mathematicians (Pennay, 2024). More importantly, to spend time only cultivating professional skills is to remain ignorant of the sources of meaning in life, and where our skills are best devoted.

Brooks identifies a second set of higher virtues, the ‘eulogy virtues’, those that a person might hope are attributed to them at their funeral... such as kindness, wisdom, empathy, a strong sense of social justice, an appreciation of beauty. Most people, if asked, would agree that the eulogy virtues are, ultimately, most important. Does it not make sense, then, to particularly esteem subjects which nurture such virtues? Our contemporary culture devotes more time to the acquisition of the resume virtues, yet many subjects, undervalued according to the metrics of the ATAR, nurture these eulogy virtues. Indeed, while subjects within the Humanities and Arts do build transferrable skills in critical thinking, creativity and argumentation, it could be argued that their inherent value lies instead in their ability to cultivate the eulogy virtues.

School should be a place where learners are encouraged to foster their uniqueness, where they are guided in understanding it, honouring it and applying it towards their own learning. It should be a place where wisdom and virtue are acquired alongside skills. To value subjects based only upon ‘how they scale’ is to devalue the learning experience as a whole.

References

Brooks, D. (2015). The Road to Character. Penguin. Geelan, D. (2020, July 31). Students are more than a number: Why a learner profile makes more sense than the ATAR. The Conversation https://theconversation.com/students-are-more-than-a-number-why-a-learner-profile-makes-more-sense-than-the-atar-143539

Pennay, A. (2024, February 24). It’s time to descale the arts machine. [Article]. LinkedIn. https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/its-time-descale-arts-machineandrew-pennay-ndqmc/ QTAC. (2022, August). Calculating the ATAR in Queensland – Technical Document. chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/ https://www.qtac.edu.au/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/20210713_Calculating_ATAR_in_QLDv14.pdf

Wallace, J.B. (2023). Never Enough: When Achievement Culture becomes Toxic – and What We Can Do About It. Penguin. Zimmer, C. (2011, January 1). 100 Trillion Connections: New Efforts Probe and Map the Brian’s Detailed Architecture. Scientific American Magazine Vol. 304 (No. 1). https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/100-trillion-connections/

AUDREY CHOU (9L)

The opportunities in assessment

Mr James Keogh, Dean of Studies

FRIDAY 22 MARCH 2024

Stress. Worry. Panic. Determination. Resolve. Focus. Calm. Relief. Joy. Laughter. Sadness. Tears. Acceptance.

The ebb and flow of school life carries with it a vast array of emotions—a veritable tumult of highs and lows, soaring peaks that are wished to never end, and at times, valleys hidden in shadow that may seem to have no end. And, this cacophony of emotions is just over assessments, let alone the other activities inherent in school life.

I have been reminded of late of the emotional range experienced during periods of high assessment, be that individual or across a cohort. The reminders came as I watched the recent Year 12 and 11 exam blocks, the Year 7 and 9 students undertake NAPLAN testing, and during the rich conversations in the one-on-one Year 12 Academic Planning Meetings.

As the Dean of Studies, it might seem fitting to talk about the role of assessments in providing evidence of scholastic learning, as a tool in identifying areas for future learning, or maybe about appropriate study habits and strategies to achieve one’s best academically. However, I wish to take a different tack: assessment as a time of emotional growth and learning.

No human endeavour is undertaken free from the thousand emotions that human flesh is heir to (my apologies to Shakespeare for appropriating and amending, even butchering, his work). Equally, life is not devoid of demands, pressures and challenges. Our ability to understand our emotions in such situations—learning how to best respond to them—as opposed to being overwhelmed by them or trying to simply deny them, can help us confront challenges in a more controlled manner.

Thus, we can become more the master of the situation than be at the mercy of it. With such an understanding of our emotional self, we would know that fear or anxiousness can be breached and not hold us back; or to embrace and relish the joy in accomplishment without getting lost in a sense that happiness must always be there; or also, accepting disappointment, though troubling, is but fleeting, if you allow it to be such.

Where can children and young adults experience such challenges in a safe environment? Where can they be placed in a maelstrom of emotions and learn to find a path through, while there is support and guidance close at hand? Where can they learn the emotional skills that will, in time, help them step out into an adult world? The obvious answer is at their homes, with the oversight of parents close by. However, I would contend that schools, with oversight from teachers, Heads of House and councillors, and in fact assessments, form a major avenue for such emotional learning.

Assessments are far more than instruments to demonstrate subject knowledge or a mechanism to obtain a grade; they provide an opportunity for true self-reflection. A reflection in time of demand, a reflection of emotional regulation and a reflection on emotional growth.

So, to all our students having just undertaken, or about to commence assessments, I wish them every success in their academic learning and also their emotional learning. I hope that they see them as a true opportunity for growth, reflection and afterwards, of course, enjoy the well-deserved holiday break.

AMELIA PERRY (12E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Contemplating Legacy: What Would Lilley Think Now?

Ms Melinda Egan, Dean of Students

THURSDAY 28 MARCH 2024

One of the greatest delights about stepping into the classroom at Brisbane Girls Grammar School is seeing the students’ intelligent thinking in action. Recently, my Year 12 English class delved deeply into the intricate layers of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, a powerful and timeless literary masterpiece. Amidst discussion on the concept of female agency, I presented my students with a challenge: to encapsulate the essence of eponymous Jane in a single word. With unwavering confidence in their capabilities, 24 unique attributes emerged, painting a vivid portrait of Jane’s character—a testament to both the students and the genius of Charlotte Bronte. I posed the question ‘Is this familiar?’ and the answer was clear to all. The girls had not only come to understand Jane as passionate and intelligent, but had described her as ‘principled, balanced, curious, adventurous, and independent’—the aspiration we have for our students at Brisbane Girls Grammar School.

Now, some may question the relevance of studying a novel penned over a century ago. Upon its publication in 1847, Jane Eyre sparked both admiration and controversy. Some called it daring and rebellious, whilst others thought it preternatural and intelligent. No matter the opinion, the novel was captivating, even catching the eye of Queen Victoria, who wrote about it favourably in her diary. Indeed, the novel left an indelible mark on the Victorian era and beyond.

It's certainly possible that Sir Charles Lilley (1827-1897), former Premier and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Queensland, read Jane Eyre when it was published. As a 20-year-old young man, living in England, perhaps he too got swept away by Jane’s principled response to oppression and inequality. Like Bronte, Lilley became known as an advocate for education and unheard voices. Would Lilley’s five daughters and eight sons also have gone on to read Jane Eyre in their youth in Brisbane? I can imagine the Lilley household engaged in robust discussion about education around the dining table all those years ago.

Sir Charles Lilley’s vision to establish a girls’ school—to enable equal access to education—was far ahead of its time and viewed as a radical experiment. On the cusp of Brisbane Girls Grammar School reaching 150 years, it’s timely to reflect on how his daring idea has evolved. The legacy of Lilley’s vision for girls and young women has brought about a cascade of intelligent thinking and action at Girls Grammar.

Many would argue that the fast-paced changes we see around us today—whilst novel and exciting—are detrimental to common sense: cancel culture; narcissism; and consumerism to name a few. Additionally, and remarkably, new technologies and even different modes of working that we wouldn’t have imagined possible will continue to emerge. Whilst some may feel the world’s gone slightly mad, a quality education

provides a reliable anchor to what’s good and right. Amidst the challenges, and to ensure girls flourish in an uncertain and changing world, how does Girls Grammar continue to advocate for the grounding qualities of being ‘principled, balanced, curious, adventurous, and independent’?

We need not look far to see examples of girls mirroring Jane’s own impressive example. It’s right there in the adventurous spirit demonstrated by our rock-climbers and our swimmers, and in the principled approach of those many students who prioritise service to the School and the community at large. It’s on display in our youngest students as their strive for balance on their first Outdoor Education Program at beautiful Marrapatta, and in the independence of our Seniors as they work toward their external exams by harnessing the lessons learned over the previous six years. Jane’s curiosity finds its

modern parallel in our enthusiastic members of ‘Educate and Empower’, who have chosen topics of interest to explore in their inspiring discussions. It’s plain to see Jane everywhere we look, made possible by Lilley’s daring vision of a broad, liberal education for girls.

Why does Lilley’s legacy matter? An education is the foundation for widening horizons and leading change for the betterment of self and others. So, as we prepare to celebrate 150 years of a Girls Grammar education, we can reflect on the ripples made by many generations of Grammar Women to contribute to a more just world. Resistant ideas—like those of Lilley and Bronte—challenge us to embrace new opportunities and possibilities for the future. I’m confident that this generation of Grammar girls will make their mark, and Lilley would be delighted by their capacity to make a difference.

MAYA ADIB (10G)

GIGI ROMBOLA (9B)

Reflections on Rhythms

Ms Kim Wood, Director of Outdoor Education FRIDAY 19 APRIL 2024

Over the Easter break, while things were a little less busy, I had the opportunity to stay still and take notice—the sun setting earlier, the nights getting cooler, and fewer trees and plants in flower. At Marrapatta we are also noticing misty mornings across the Moocooboola/Mary River valley, an increase in frog sounds at night following the recent rain, and the drier grass ready for burning as we transition from summer to autumn, from the season of the celebration of bunya harvest to the time of custodianship of Country and community. Nature has a rhythm of her own, at times seemingly unconnected to our daily concerns and schedules, but ultimately an intimate aspect of our daily rhythm, if only we give it the time to be heard.

As we return to school for Term 2, we resume a different rhythm, dictated by class timetables, School calendars, and assessment planners—but, of course, we are also welcomed by the many familiar faces of the blue community to which we all belong, and which we all play a role in building and sustaining. In this busyness we become less aware of the rhythms of nature, and more attuned to the rhythm of lessons, co-curricular activities and homework, of Monday to Friday and weekend commitments, of Alpha and Beta weeks, and of assessments and deadlines.

Yet, we are all part of not only the rhythm of Girls Grammar, and our families and friendship groups, but also the rhythms of nature and the cycles of life. By slowing down and connecting to nature’s rhythms, we feel part of the world around us and see ourselves as more than the various roles we play.

Nature has a restorative power. By tuning in, we experience awe, as beings of the utmost significance and also total insignificance—we have a sense of being part of the world around and beyond us. First Nations Peoples across the world understand the importance of honouring this connection as a fundamental human need, and the responsibility we have to care for Country, to protect not only the environment but our own wellbeing.

As a teenager, I had the opportunity to develop a love of nature, adventure, travel and the outdoors through studying Outdoor Education, participating in the Duke of Edinburgh Award, and going to Japan as an exchange student. These experiences helped me to become a considered risk taker and problem solver, and set me up for a life of curiosity. When I go on a trip it always amuses me to observe the way that travel focuses us on life’s necessities—‘where are we sleeping tonight?’, ‘when are we eating?’, ‘where is the toilet?’

The experience of being away from our familiar places and routines makes us aware not only of the needs of our stomach and feet, but also the weight of our belongings, the weather, and the people and environment around us. We find ourselves slowing down our thoughts and worries, and getting into a rhythm that is about meeting our most basic needs and those of our travelling companions, while contemplating the bigger picture of our life and dreams. Having planted these seeds of slowness, of wellbeing and connection, we return to our ‘normal’ lives with a fresh perspective.

The Outdoor Education Program at Marrapatta has been designed to provide students and staff with the opportunity to slow down in this way, and to adopt a different rhythm while developing a sense of community among a small group of peers. We focus on noticing ourselves, others and the environment, and working together to meet everyone’s needs safely. We take time to check in with each other every morning and evening, to solve problems together, and to reflect on how we feel physically and emotionally. We get to know each other over meal preparation and dishwashing, reflect on our observations of birds, insects, trees and animals, how they interact with each other, and fit into the broader rhythms of the seasons. We observe the movement of the stars across the night sky and contemplate our place in the universe.

These experiences provide an opportunity for our students to take time to reflect, and better understand themselves and our world. While we hope that students enjoy paddling on Borumba (place of minnows) Dam and Nguthuru (shadow, ghost)/Noosa River, building rafts, roasting marshmallows, choosing and cooking their own meals, that they remember celebrating completing the ropes course, laughing with their friends and the satisfaction of achieving their goals for the week. Ultimately, we want them to return to Brisbane with a fresh perspective, and a renewed understanding of themselves and their peers. By working through their individual discomfort—whether that be learning to ride a bike, being away from home, eating different food or existing without their phone—students come to understand and value their strengths, gain confidence in their ability to do hard things, and listen to their inner voice. They have the opportunity to create a new pace for themselves, to connect and grow with the world around them, and to take responsibility for their contribution to sustaining the life-giving and life-enriching rhythms of nature.

SIENNA SANTORO (10W)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Reflections on Romeo and Juliet

Mrs Katrina Riveros, Head of Department—Drama FRIDAY 26 APRIL 2024

Two households, both alike in dignity, will come together to stage one of the most iconic plays of all time for this year’s Senior Drama Production—William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

The collaboration between Brisbane Girls Grammar School and Brisbane Grammar School’s Drama departments is exciting and long-awaited—much unlike that of the Houses of Capulet and Montague—and has enriched our co-curricular programs and resulted in a dynamic piece of theatre.

Shakespeare’s most famous play has been adapted, staged and critiqued countless times! From Hollywood reproductions to academic examination of its political philosophies, irrationality of the love between the young protagonists, and its reflection of social and cultural concerns of its time—we remain enamoured with the tragic tale, centuries after its creation.

Its themes of love, fate and violence, and familial and societal expectations, combined with the complexity of its characters sustains its universal appeal. Written in the 1590s, during a period of social and political upheaval in England, the play reflects societal and religious conflicts through the fractured relationship of the Montagues and Capulets, reinforcing the destructive nature of such division. While England was in the midst of widespread tensions, Europe was in its Renaissance

period, a time of great ‘cultural and intellectual flourishing’, which Shakespeare explores through the concepts of love and fate (Better Tuition Academy, ND).

While we now appreciate the timeless appeal of such a complex, layered play, Romeo and Juliet was not initially a success (Better Tuition Academy, ND). In fact, it wasn’t until the 18th century that it was perceived as one of Shakespeare’s greatest works, defining his legacy as a writer and playwright, and inspiring thousands of reproductions.

It has been a privilege to assist Director, BGS’ Ben Newth, to bring such a contemporary vision to life. Our production reflects our young actors’ own lives through a contemporary vision that showcased their vitality and youthful exuberance through the highly physicalised action and modern street aesthetic.

Daniel Evans’ slick adaptation of the timeless play breaks down the barriers of the traditional text, while continuing to honour the poetry and power of Shakespeare’s bard, by boldly interjecting with modern vernacular and his trademark wit. The production’s contemporary take juxtaposes old with new, bringing a fresh take on the oh-so familiar story by slamming the traditional text, settings, and contexts up against a modern and recognisable era, where young people … well, rule.

The voices and perspectives of the youth are honoured and privileged in this re-telling. The original version’s parental characters are removed to frame this modern take within a young person’s autonomous space, privileging their world view and painting a reflective lens of current society.

Audiences will experience this contemporary fusion in the architectural and historic chapel that is the Great Hall; a building that holds such symbolism for BGS, as it is the first entry point and final farewell place for the boys. Sharing this significant hall with our girls represents a small part of the synergy and mutual respect that we delighted in throughout this collaboration. The production’s clash of tradition and modernity extends to the physical with a minimalist, contemporary set design positioned within the monolithic sandstone structure of the cathedral-like space.

Costuming the large cast has been both a joy and a challenge as we looked to capture the expression of carefree fun and youthful abandonment, while still paying homage to tradition.

The creative team cleverly distinguished the opposing Houses through vibrant festival-like looks for the Montagues, against the slick street-aesthetic inspired costuming of the Capulets— with a contrasting Elizabethan ruff collar for both Houses.

It has been a privilege to work with our students to hone their understanding of the text, find their characters and detail the stagecraft for this ambitious work.

The tragic ending is not the message of this piece. Rather, out of the vibrant dance party scenes, audacious commentary and levity, emerges a real heart in this rendition. It reminds us that there is beauty and love to be found; that our young people are the future, and have dreams and emotions and life to experience. Of course, ultimately, it reminds us that regardless of setting or century, the themes and resonance of Romeo and Juliet are enduring.

For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

References

Why Astronomy?

Ms Gerri Bernard, Head of Department—Science Curriculum Development

FRIDAY 3 MAY 2024

Astronomy is useful because it raises us above ourselves; it is useful because it is grand; it is useful because it is beautiful . . . It shows us how small is a person’s body, how great a person’s mind . . .

—Henri

Poincaré, Translated from La Valeur de la Science (1904)

For as long as humans have existed on Earth, we have gazed at the stars and the Moon, and the planets of our solar system. We have noted their movements, appreciated how their appearance changed over time, and tried to understand the heavens above us. Each culture developed its own understanding of the meanings behind the patterns they saw, creating rich traditions that served as important cultural markers. We have tried to use the movement of heavenly bodies to explain human behaviour and personality, and even to predict the future.

With the advent of the scientific method, new techniques and technologies were developed to help us understand the comings and goings of our celestial neighbours. We learned that the position of the Moon and planets at the moment of a person’s birth did not, in fact, determine the course of their life in any meaningful way. We learned that we could use our knowledge of the heavens to predict the future, but only on a grand, cosmic scale and not on an interpersonal one (yes, you may meet a person today who will change your life, but not because Mars is in retrograde).

As our Year 7 students approach the beginning of their astronomy journey at BGGS, a journey that will culminate in more than 40 hours of learning time from Years 7 to 9, it is appropriate to reflect on why this subject is such an essential part of our curriculum and how it serves our students, both academically and beyond the classroom.

From a curriculum perspective, astronomy provides an excellent context for important science concepts across multiple disciplines. Students must know how the human eye works to understand how telescopes can magnify distant objects. They can learn to appreciate that the chemical reactions that take place in our bodies rely on atoms that were created in the fiery hearts of distant and long-dead stars. Astronomy is, of course, intimately linked to physics, and some of the most interesting scientific evidence for key physics concepts—such as the behaviour of light, doppler shift, and Einstein’s theory of relativity—are found in astronomical contexts. In Year 8, our data-rich astronomy unit teaches students critical analysis skills and builds their capacity for 3D spatial reasoning and imagination, as they try to see how the apparent movement of celestial bodies across our sky is caused by our planet’s movement around the Sun.

The ‘hands-on, minds-on’ approach that our curriculum uses requires students to engage actively with practical tasks, including work with the School’s Dorothy Hill Observatory (DHO). All students in Years 7 to 9 will engage with the DHO as part of their regular Science curriculum, producing beautiful astrophotography images of star clusters, nebulas, and galaxies. The tasks associated with this work are progressive and increase in complexity over time, allowing the students to develop attention to detail, patience, and problem-solving skills.

In Year 10 Physics, these skills are further developed as students analyse primary astronomical data and use their results to calculate the age of our universe.

The benefits of astronomy can be more intangible when placed in the larger context of life-wide learning. Celestial objects are inherently beautiful and, when students choose a particular celestial object and spend time looking deeply at its characteristics to produce a stunning final image, they can explore their creativity and develop a sense of connection to their chosen piece of the cosmos.

While other subjects may offer students an understanding of their place in the modern world, their place in history, or their place relative to a variety of cultures, astronomy introduces students to their place in the universe, an experience that can evoke astonishment and awe. Students are equipped with the knowledge of just how small and special our home planet is when compared to the vast, empty expanse that comprises most of our universe. It is our hope that this sense of wonder acts as a powerful motivator for lifelong learning and exploration, fostering in our students a culture of curiosity and discovery that extends beyond the confines of the classroom, and adds to the richness of their lives.

OLIVIA CHENG (9R)

The Digital Dilemma: Where to next?

Mrs Sacha Cross, Science Teacher and Head of Beanland House

FRIDAY 10 MAY 2024

I vividly remember the moment I signed up for Facebook. Travelling home from work along the Central line of the London Underground, a Canadian colleague asked if he could ‘add me as a friend’. With a perplexed look on my face, he continued with what seemed absurd remarks at the time: ‘I can tag you in a photo so everyone else can see it. You can “like” something I write. You can let everyone know your location. C’mon, add me!’ Firstly hesitant, I questioned why I would want anyone to know my location or to be ‘tagged’— a word that to me at the time was associated with either spray painting or childhood games. Not wanting to miss out, I signed up; what harm could joining social media cause? I had the perception that Facebook would widen my world and deepen connections with those far away, given that I was living abroad. At the time I was too busy uploading photos of backpacking adventures, hoping for a ‘like’ or two from my family back in Australia, to contemplate if this innovative technology could have any drawbacks.

There is little doubt that the ubiquity of social media platforms and mobile devices has revolutionised the way we all, but particularly teenagers, interact with and perceive the world. The pervasive influence of social media has become an inextricable aspect of adolescent life, shaping communication patterns, social interactions, and selfperception. Yet, despite this influence—and the growing body of evidence on the impact of social media on teens—

comprehensive, long-term studies on this subject are currently lacking. But those that do exist, suggest most signs are pointing to danger.

Scientifically, social media use is both fascinating and concerning. The impact of social media on teenage brains is like a digital dance of dopamine and dilemma, and is deeply rooted in neurobiology (Lembke, 2021). Each ‘like’ or comment triggers a rush of dopamine—the brain's pleasure chemical. Sounds rather good so far! But here's the twist: dopamine also negatively affects impulse control. As such, the scrolling continues because we are craving that next microdose of dopamine (Crone, 2018).

The brain also undergoes significant changes during adolescence, particularly in the prefrontal cortex and limbic system. While the prefrontal cortex—responsible for decisionmaking, emotions, and impulse control—is still maturing, the limbic system—which processes emotions and is involved in rewards—is hypersensitive (Crone, 2018). These ‘mismatch years’ between the maturation of the prefrontal cortex and limbic system can make teenagers more susceptible to the allure of social media's dopamine-driven feedback loop. Teenagers will often take more risks, and have reduced judgement and impulse control. This can have many direct consequences, and further exacerbate conditions such as anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem (Giedd, 2020; Vaingankar et al., 2022).

Academic performance can also be affected by the incessant barrage of digital stimuli on social media. As it can overwhelm the cognitive processing capacities of teenagers, it can lead to both attentional deficits and decreased cognitive functioning. Studies have actually demonstrated reduced grey matter volume and disrupted functional connectivity in the prefrontal cortex of adolescents with elevated levels of social media use (Giedd, 2020), and also emergence of the ‘continuous partial attention’ phenomenon. The rapid-fire nature of scrolling and engaging with multiple forms of media simultaneously has impaired students’ sustained concentration on tasks requiring cognitive effort—the ability to engage in deep, reflective thinking (Firat, 2013).

There is no doubt that social media is altering brain development. But what are smartphones and social media pulling our teens away from? In his new novel, The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness, Jonathon Haidt (2024) argues that social media platforms are ‘experience blockers’; enriching activities are getting displaced when teens are spending hours chasing ‘likes’, doom scrolling, and following influencers. They are substituting the richness of real-life connections and friendships with shallow digital communication. Excessive reliance on digital communication platforms may hinder the development of essential social skills, such as empathy, active listening, and non-verbal communication. Face-to-face interactions, which are crucial for emotional regulation and building meaningful relationships, are replaced by superficial online interactions devoid of genuine emotional connection (Ehmke, 2024). These observations may appear old-fashioned, but which middle-aged person doesn’t feel relieved that they didn’t have social media when they were teenagers?

Yet, amidst the concerns, social media does offer avenues for positive growth and connection for teenage girls—if used appropriately. Social media platforms offer opportunities for them to connect (meaningfully), express themselves, and explore diverse interests. They can cultivate communities based on shared hobbies, passions and identities, and showcase their creativity through photos, videos, and written

posts (Schønning et al., 2020). Social media can also serve as an advocacy tool, enabling girls to raise awareness about social issues and amplify their voices on matters that are important to them—they can be heard in ways we couldn’t have imagined even 10 years ago. Furthermore, exposure to diverse perspectives and information fosters critical thinking skills and broadens horizons (Vanhavy et al., 2022). In essence, while acknowledging the potential pitfalls, it's crucial to recognise the transformative potential of social media in empowering and uplifting teenage girls in their journey towards self-discovery and personal growth. It does pose the question though: how can we support teenage girls to express creativity and connect with peers more genuinely?

As parents navigate the complexities of social media's influence on their teenage daughters, several strategies can help mitigate its negative effects while maximizing its benefits. Fostering open communication to establish a supportive and non-judgemental environment is a good starting point, along with setting (and sticking to!) healthy boundaries and time limits (American Psychological Association, 2024). Social media apps are intentionally designed so that teenagers find it difficult to set time limits themselves, so we must not only do it for them but also model appropriate use ourselves. Education about media literacy, and teaching critical thinking skills to help them navigate the digital landscape discerningly, is also essential.

Unrestricted social media use has been likened to handing a Lamborghini key to a learner drive. In the same way that we wouldn’t hand them the keys and let them go, we need to consider how we approach teenage use of social media. There are radical solutions—no access under the age of 16, for example—and others focused more on controlled use. Is there a happy medium that allows teenagers to take advantage of what social media offers, without dangerously impacting their social, mental, and physical wellbeing? Or, do we need to take radical action now, to avoid waiting a few more decades for the conclusive long-term research that social media is, in fact, dangerous for our teenage girls?

References

American Psychological Association. (2023). Health advisory on social media use in adolescence. Https://www.apa.org. Retrieved April 22, 2024 from https://www.apa.org/topics/social-media-internet/health-advisory-adolescent-social-media-use

Crone, E.A., Konijn, E.A. (2018). Media use and brain development during adolescence. Nature, 588 (9). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-018-03126-x

Ehmke, Rachel. (2024). How using social media affects teenagers. Child Mind Institute. https://childmind.org/article/how-using-social-media-affectsteenagers/

Firat, M. (2013). Continuous Partial Attention as a Problematic Technology Use: A Case Of Educators. Journal of Educators Online. https://doi.org/10.10.9743/ JEO.2013.2.6

Giedd JN. (2020). Adolescent brain and the natural allure of digital media Dialogues in Clinical Neuroscience, 22(2), 127-133. https://doi.org/10.31887/ DCNS.2020.22.2

Haidt, Jonathon (2024). The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing An Epidemic of Mental Illness. Penguin Press Lembke, A. (2021). Dopamine nation: finding balance in the age of indulgence. Penguin Random House LLC. Schønning V., Hjetland GJ., Aarø LE., Skogen JC. (2020). Social Media Use and Mental Health and Well-Being Among Adolescents - A Scoping Review. Front Psychology, 11, 1949. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2020.01949

Vaingankar J., van Dam R., Samari E., Chang S., Seow E., Chua YC., Luo N., Verma S., Subramaniam M. (2022). Social Media-Driven Routes to Positive Mental Health Among Youth: Qualitative Enquiry and Concept Mapping Study. JMIR Pediatr Parent. 4, 1. https://doi.org/10.2196/32758.

ERICA SHIN (10W)

The Tortured Poets Department (Talbot’s Version)

Ms Kathryn Talbot, Head of Subject—English Years 9-10 (Acting)

FRIDAY 17 MAY 2024

As a member of the English Faculty, the cultural juggernaut that is Taylor Swift’s lyrical rumination on the pain of lost love seems particularly timely: after 50+ years as a mainstay of Senior English, Hamlet, Shakespeare’s Denmark-set magnum opus, is no more. Alas, we’ve had to bid a sorrowful farewell to our loyal Great Dane.

Why the melancholia? It’s a fair question. We’ve had ample time to say our goodbyes, with our venerable Director of English, Jo Genders, penning a powerful, reflective farewell to the Prince prior to our move into the next Era. Further, Hamlet’s replacement is yet another acclaimed tragedy: Othello While not all of Shakespeare’s works are created equal—Titus Andronicus springs painfully to mind—the substitution of one great Tragedy with another hardly seems truly tragic. And yet, as 2024 opened without Elsinore on the horizon, I wondered: what was it about Hamlet that made it so difficult to shake off, and could Othello ever measure up?

For me, the value of Hamlet lay not in its lexical brilliance, but in how we engaged with its morally turbulent ‘hero’. The titular Prince could not be hated, but he was very difficult to love, and living with this liminality caused great consternation within my classes. This is not surprising, given evidence like the recent Channel 4 study of 13 to 24-year-olds1 that baldly exposed a deeply embedded paradox of deep progressive attitudes and entrenched intolerance for competing perspectives. Respondent Georgia (22) noted the contemporary rise of the pervasive conception that the ‘only way to share (an) opinion is by convincing other people that (your) opinion is the only correct way'. This current trend toward schismatic didacticism is evident in the rise and subsequent Flanderisation2 of ‘cancel culture’: particularly in digital discourse, with the notable exception of ride-or-die Swifties ready to forgive Blondie most sins, an abrupt heel-face-turn is not only common but oft expected when confronted with even a whiff of

1 To be clear, I do not believe this trend—labelled “illiberal progressivism”—is exclusive to younger generations; such narrow attribution would be an act of deleterious scapegoating. One could argue that many studies focus on Gen Z and Alpha because the effect of such hard-line attitudes is increasingly visible in the ideological violence that characterises contemporary generational clash.

2 Referring to the character of Ned Flanders on The Simpsons, this term implies a process by with the essential traits of a character or concept are exaggerated and hyperbolised over time to reach a caricature of its former self.

ideological opposition. While upholding personal integrity and using one’s voice to call for accountability are both positive concepts unto themselves, the speed of these contemporary 180s is likely to cause whiplash, and outcry does not always match the action. These are hardly champagne problems: such a trend seems to suggest that in modern culture there is good, there is bad, and the in-between shrivels and shrinks each day.

Ideally, students should emerge from their scholastic cocoon ready to engage independently, confidently, and empathetically with the world outside our white picket fence; while we encourage girls to discover their own perspectives and where they draw their own individual line(s), we must also develop their capacity to be open and tolerant of others’. Thus, to denaturalise rising black and white thinking, we grapple with the grey.

Enter Hamlet, stage left.

In years gone by, my classes have noted that the titular Prince’s ‘babygirl’ characteristics—a term evoking the conspicuously sweet sensitivity and gloriously floppy hair of Hugh Grant’s Notting Hill era—transcend time. Ostracised for little more than visible grief for his much-revered late father, Hamlet’s wholly natural behaviour is publicly derided as ‘unmanly’ and a ‘fault to nature’. The Prince is thus adrift and lonely, subsequently abandoned, neglected, or betrayed by those he loved best; by the time Hamlet cries ‘but break my heart’, he has already captured ours.

However, this straightforward sympathy never lasted.

Put simply, Hamlet’s Prince is no prince: he’s a deep thinker, loyal, and witty; but simultaneously he is bigoted, cruel, and tragically indecisive. At times, he seems little more than a nightmare dressed as a daydream. His supposed betrayal by his mother erupts in generalised misogyny—'Frailty, thy name is woman!’—and Reddit-esque complaints regarding women’s propensity to deceive: ‘God hath given (women) one face, and you make yourselves another.’ Complicating matters further is how Hamlet does not merely metamorphose from hero to villain across five acts; these deeply offensive statements—so casually cruel in the name of being ‘honest’—are inextricably entwined with those that evoked deepest sympathy.

This moral ambiguity caused both disquiet and discussion within my classes. Our hardly-heroic-hero prompted healthy debate: was Hamlet a ‘good’ person? How much of his cruelty could be explained or excused by his tragic circumstances? How much blame for the subsequent carnage could be placed at his indecisive feet? There were no black-and-white answers, only acknowledgement and acceptance of different perspectives; there was rarely group consensus but plenty of group understanding.

There was good, there was bad, and now there was Hamlet. It may have felt exhausting dealing with the anti-hero, but there were such rich results.

Thus, given what I considered likely lost with the Prince’s exile from the curriculum, I was poised to continue privately wallowing in pedagogical pity—certainly an apropos tribute to this particular Prince. However, in my brood-blind focus on the blank space of Hamlet’s absence, I had severely underestimated what was soon-to-be present.

Enter Othello, stage right.

Scarce but three weeks into Othello, I have found reason for powerful optimism; not only does the play prompt similar ruminations as its predecessor, but it delves deeper into territory heretofore unexplored in this space. This is particularly evident in our evolving discussions of race, with the play’s representation of the alienating vulnerability of Otherness—and how it can be cruelly weaponised to serve nefarious purposes—serving as an ever-so-timely and tragically literal condemnation of black-and-white thinking. Further, the ease with which the titular General slips into suspicion and paranoia prompts discussion that echoes Hamlet’s betrayal-driven misogyny: how much cruelty can one explain—or even excuse—as the psychological impact of lifelong prejudice?

In addition, outspoken Emilia—wife of the villainous Iago and handmaiden to doomed Desdemona—immediately gained a well-deserved Grammar fan club by denouncing endemic misogyny; this entry into Reputation-era bombast was something quite refreshing after the somewhat drippy and half-hearted nature of Hamlet’s women characters.

SIENNA RYAN (12E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

However, much as with her Danish predecessor, it isn’t that simple: students are just now attempting to come to terms with how Emilia’s proto-feminist condemnations of the patriarchy—‘(men) are all but stomachs, and (women) all but food’—are coupled inextricably with a dogged desperation to ‘please (her husband’s) fantasy’ at the cost of her own integrity. The liminal space between their deep admiration for, and simultaneous alienation from, Emilia is what has prompted the most powerful discussion. Once more, questions are prompted with no right answers; once more, students experience not black and white, but screaming, contradictory colour.

Whether a handmaiden or Hamlet, Shakespearean characters seem to have a knack for prompting us to question the lines of morality we draw in the sand. The academic and pseudoobjective nature of textual analysis lures us into discussion characterised not by swift rejection and dichotomous disagreement, but by the open and respectful acknowledgement of alternative perspectives.

And so, it appears our future—if not that of Othello’s characters—is looking brighter than ever. While the ghost of Hamlet will still wander the midnights of mental battlements, Othello’s sun is rising, and I look with fearless optimism to an exciting new pedagogical day.

Exeunt.

References

Booth, Robert (2022). ‘It’s out of order’: Gen Z speak up for cancel culture and ‘young illiberal progressives’. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/ society/2022/nov/01/its-out-of-order-gen-z-speak-up-on-cancel-culture-and-young-illiberal-progressives

A Teacher’s Reflection on Music’s Enduring Gift

Mrs Laurinda Davidson, Director of Instrumental Music

FRIDAY 24 MAY 2024

The melody lingers long after the final note fades: a testament to the enduring power of music.

As a teacher, I've witnessed firsthand how the journey of learning an instrument transcends the technical mastery of scales and concertos. It cultivates a skill set within each student, equipping them for the unexpected challenges and opportunities that the future holds.

Years of watching students grapple with scales and navigate tricky passages have taught me a profound truth: music education offers a wealth of benefits that extend far beyond the concert hall. While the future of work seems perpetually shrouded in uncertainty, one thing remains clear—the ability to adapt, innovate, and collaborate effectively will be paramount. What continues to surprise me is how beautifully these very skills are nurtured through the seemingly simple act of learning an instrument.

The journey of learning an instrument unlocks a wealth of benefits beyond simply playing notes. Students who initially struggle with basic melodies often blossom as they embrace the challenge. The dedication and perseverance required to master a new piece mirrors the very qualities I strive to instil in all my students: the ability to face setbacks head-on and experiment with different approaches. This isn't just about hitting the right notes; it's about cultivating a growth mindset, a crucial asset in a world where constant learning is the new normal.

And, music offers opportunities for constant learning: it isn't merely a series of notes on a page; it's a full-body, full-brain workout. Think of the energetic student whose boundless enthusiasm often translates into less-than-stellar focus. Learning an instrument demands a new level of coordination and concentration, forcing them to harness their boundless energy into something truly beautiful. This continual learning and development of cognitive flexibility, the ability to switch gears and adapt to new situations, will be a game-changer for future workers navigating a world saturated with ever-evolving technology.

Alongside this technology is a world overflowing with data— and the act of memorising complex musical passages—which isn't just about rote learning—strengthens a student's ability to retain information and procedures. Witnessing a student meticulously memorise a Chopin Nocturne isn't just about technical mastery; it’s also developing the mental stamina they will require to excel in future jobs that demand a sharp and reliable memory.

Music transcends the realm of facts and figures. It's a language that speaks directly to the soul. As students learn to interpret and express emotions through their instrument, they develop a deeper understanding of the human experience. This emotional intelligence, the ability to read nonverbal cues and empathise with others, will be invaluable in future jobs that require collaboration, negotiation, and leadership.

This cultivation of intrinsic motivation is another revelation gleaned from years in the classroom. The joy of creating music fuels the dedication required to learn and grow. Witnessing the pure delight on a student's face after mastering a difficult passage is a testament to the power of this internal drive. This translates into a strong work ethic, a passion for their craft that extends beyond the allure of external rewards—a highly sought after quality. The benefits don't stop there. The discipline required to master an instrument fosters not only time management skills and goal setting, but also the ability to overcome challenges. These are the very skills future workers need to navigate the often-demanding environment of the professional world.

Music education offers a symphony of unexpected benefits that equip students for a lifetime of success. Witnessing these transformations fills me with immense satisfaction as a teacher. The melody may fade with the final note, but the harmony it creates within our students resonates far beyond the classroom. So, the next time you hear music wafting from these walls, remember—it's not just about the notes themselves, but the beautiful symphony of life skills blossoming within.

EVIE KOLFF VAN OOSTERWIJK (12M)

Are We There Yet?

Ms Alison Dare, Director of Humanities FRIDAY 31 MAY 2024

National Reconciliation Week is a time for us, as a community, to consider how far we have come and how far we have yet to go in the ongoing relationship between First Nations people and non-Indigenous Australians. Do we ever arrive at an end point in this journey? Will there ever be a time when we no longer need a Reconciliation Week because we have arrived at a point of harmony and social cohesion? Former Senator and Yawuru elder from Broome, Western Australia, Pat Dodson—a champion in the struggle for equality—asserted that ‘reconciliation must transcend Australian political theatre and promote a sense of national unity’ (Dodson, 2021)— reconciliation is an ongoing process whose goal is unity and like any relationship, it takes ongoing work on both sides.

Central to reconciliation is an acknowledgement of past wrongs and the harm they have caused. Reconciliation Australia (2024) articulated acceptance of history as one of the five dimensions in the goal of achieving national unity. Acceptance of history is not always easy—it means fronting some uncomfortable truths about our past, such as the Frontier Wars, the Stolen Generations and Aboriginal deaths in custody. We know that history reverberates into the present, and it is only through honest acknowledgement of past hurts that true healing begins. The government’s 2008 apology to the survivors of the Stolen Generations marked an important milestone in this healing process.

The 1990s was a momentous decade in the journey towards reconciliation. It was a time of reckoning with our past. We saw the formation of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) in 1990 and in the following year, the establishment of the Council for Aboriginal Reconciliation.

The Report of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody was handed down in the same year. This report represented the most comprehensive examination of Australia’s First Peoples’ experiences ever carried out. The tent embassy was re-established in front of Old Parliament House in Canberra 1992, and in the same year the historic Mabo decision of the High Court overturned the legal foundations (terra nullius) of Australia’s colonisation. In 1997, the Bringing Them Home report, which was the result of a two-year inquiry into the separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, was published. According to Professor Robert Manne (2021), ‘no inquiry in recent Australian history appeared to have, at least in the short term, a more overwhelming reception and a more culturally transforming impact … The question of Aboriginal child removal moved rapidly from the margin to the centre of political debate.’ The emerging willingness to listen represented a shift in our national identity.

This reckoning was also evident in the classroom, with stories of dispossession and removal being told, with the Bringing Them Home report, for example, an important source. This was a far cry from the way history was taught when I was at school in the 1980s. Back then it was all about convicts, bushrangers and explorers—stories of white men conquering an inhospitable land and its native peoples.

The teaching of what came to be termed in the ‘90s as ‘hidden history’ was not without controversy, as teachers found themselves at the forefront of the so-called ‘history wars’. Accused by some in the political arena of imparting a ‘black armband’ version of Australia’s past, they were seen to be

encouraging feelings of guilt and shame over past actions, which seemed to have very little to do with the students’ own lives. Our then Prime Minister, John Howard, asserted his views on the topic:

‘(The black armband view) of our history reflects a belief that most Australian history since 1788 has been little more than a disgraceful story of imperialism, exploitation, racism, sexism and other forms of discrimination. I take a very different view. I believe that the balance sheet of our history is one of heroic achievement and that we have achieved much more as a nation of which we can be proud of than which we should be ashamed’ (Howard,1996).

Howard’s assertion reflected a certain binary approach which was also evident in the broader community, and regarded Australia’s past as one of either triumph or shame. The reality is that all history was, and is, a contested space in which there is never one singular version—regardless of topic, location or era, our recollections of history are contextualised by our own experiences, views and memories—and it’s also possible to hold various positions, and sit with the discomfort that brings.

While truth-telling remains fundamental to the ongoing relationship between First Nations and non-Indigenous Australians, we no longer speak about ‘hidden histories’ in the classroom because these histories have been, and continue to be, brought into the light. This, in turn, has led to a more mutual understanding in the dialogue between First Nations and non-Indigenous people—however, we know there is more to achieve.

As a School, the 2014 establishment of the Uralla Club represents such reciprocity, in one simple, yet incredibly meaningful way. Inaugurated at a grass roots level by two Year 10 students, the club is a forum for students and staff to learn about Indigenous arts, cultures and achievements, and promote awareness of issues affecting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. One of the most important initiatives supported by the Uralla Group, under the leadership of Ms Abby Hills and Ms Susan Garson, was the creation of the School’s Reconciliation Action Plan (RAP)in 2022. This plan emerged from a desire to see a more formalised and school-wide approach to reconciliation. Based upon the Narragunnawali: Reconciliation in Schools and Early Learning framework, the RAP aligns to this Reconciliation Australia framework, and with the Australian Curriculum. The Plan enables us to gauge our dedication to reconciliation by establishing specific, measurable goals centred on fostering relationships, respect, and opportunities. These goals ensure that reconciliation is not just a pursuit, but a lived reality within our classrooms and throughout our school community. According to Ms Abby Hills, it ‘provides a framework for BGGS to take steps to foster more meaningful and reciprocal relationships with Indigenous Australians, promote cultural awareness, and embed the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Histories and Cultures cross-curriculum priorities’ (Hills, 2023).

Reconciliation does not necessarily follow a linear trajectory, nor does it have a definite end point. Rather, it represents an ongoing dialogue between and among all Australians, which hopefully culminates in a deep, mutual understanding and respect. While we have made much progress in this space, we know there is, always, more to do on this journey toward reconciliation.

Sources

Dodson, P. (2021). The State of Reconciliation in Australia. https://www.reconciliation.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/State-of-Reconciliation-Report_ SUMMARY.pdf

Hills, A. (2023). The Brisbane Girls Grammar School Gazette. Howard, J. (1996, November 18). The 1996 Sir Robert Menzies Lecture: The Liberal Tradition. https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-10171 Manne, R. (2001, April). In Denial. The Stolen Generations and the Right. https://www.quarterlyessay.com.au/essay/2001/04/in-denial/extract

Reconciliation Australia. (2024). https://www.reconciliation.org.au/

AMELIA PERRY (12E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

World Environment Day: A Call for Action Against Plastic Waste

Mrs Nisha Swanston, Technologies Teacher

FRIDAY 7 JUNE 2024

Every day, we encounter waste—on our streets, in our workplaces, and at homes—and often wish it were someone else's problem. How many of us have avoided separating the recycling from our household bins or picking up a piece of litter? It's not surprising that recycling, a more complex form of waste management, poses a significant challenge for many Australians.

Waste management and recycling are more than just necessary evils; they are opportunities for education and personal development. The recycling rate in Australia stands steady at 60 per cent, unchanged over the past two years (Ridley, 2023). We know that it's crucial not only to improve these rates but also to enrich the educational experiences tied to these efforts. This prompts a key question: what more can we do?

Recent advances in plastic waste treatment have shifted away from traditional, often harmful methods like landfill and incineration, toward more sustainable practices that not only alleviate the environmental burden but also transform waste into valuable resources. Innovative technologies such as pyrolysis and photodegradation not only promise to reduce the environmental footprint of plastic waste but also support a circular economy by turning waste into fuel, new materials, and other useful products (Zhang, et al, 2021).

Deputy Principal (Academic), Dr Bruce Addison (2024), highlights the dual-edged nature of plastic: a boon for convenience but a bane for the environment. This paradox presents a unique educational opportunity. Rather than shying away from challenging subjects like waste management due to their perceived complexity or lack of direct career utility, educators and students alike should embrace them for their potential to inspire and transform. This perspective converges on the need for a deeper, more meaningful engagement with environmental education. We need to spark passion and ignite interest in the students we teach. A real-world application will often be the reason young people come back to problem solving. When they can see how it applies to life outside the confines of school, we give them the foresight to make changes they believe can have an impact.

In her Reflections on the Australian education system, Dr Rashna Taraporewalla (2024) critiques the current metrics of educational success, such as the ATAR, which often prioritise scoring over genuine interest and passion in learning. This critique is particularly relevant when considering environmental education. Just as Dr Taraporewalla advocates for valuing subjects based on the personal joy and fulfillment they provide, environmental education should be approached similarly.

It offers deep, personal engagement with critical issues affecting our planet, fostering a sense of responsibility and connection to the earth that can be profoundly fulfilling.

Educators bear a unique responsibility: to empower students with the knowledge and skills to make sustainable choices.

‘Trash to Treasure’ refers to transforming discarded or unwanted items, often considered trash or waste, into valuable or desirable products. This involves repurposing, upcycling, or creatively reusing materials typically disposed of in landfills (Nallapaneni MK, Hait S, Priya A, Bohra V 2023). Initiatives that Brisbane Girls Grammar School currently support, such as Precious Plastic, play a pivotal role in this educational effort. This program encourages communities to collect plastic lids from used bottles for repurposing. After cleaning, sorting and shredding, these plastics are transformed into usable products. Girls Grammarhas actively engaged students in this process, turning them into advocates for sustainability. Their enthusiasm and newfound knowledge have the potential to spark broader community awareness and actions toward environmental sustainability. Overall, Trash to Treasure represents a shift toward embracing sustainability, encouraging resourcefulness, and fostering a culture of various activities that broadly fall under a circular economy (Nallapaneni MK, Hait S, Priya A, Bohra V 2023). If we are to emphasise the transformation of waste into valuable resources, we can assume that we would witness a cultural shift that in turn, would aid in implementing circular economy practices.

Socrates once said, ‘The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new’. This wisdom underscores the importance of proactive engagement in creating sustainable solutions, rather than

simply opposing unsustainable practices. The real challenge lies in 'walking the walk' and exploring alternative options that focus our collective attention on sustainability.

The recycling landscape in Australia faced a significant shift in 2020 when China ceased accepting foreign recyclables (Richie, 2020). This decision exposed vulnerabilities in our national recycling capabilities, emphasising the need to enhance local processing. While increasing recycling rates is crucial, it is paramount to prevent plastic waste from contaminating our environment in the first place.

As we look ahead, it is imperative that our educational approaches foster not just knowledge, but a lifelong passion for sustainability. This aligns with David Brooks' concept of ‘eulogy virtues’, which suggests that our education system should aim to cultivate qualities like kindness, wisdom, and a strong sense of justice—virtues that are often echoed in the goals of environmental education (Brooks, 2015).

We must integrate sustainable practices into our lifestyles, recognising that without change there will be no progress. Humans are inherently resistant to abandoning familiar habits, but through education and behavioural changes, we can influence those around us to embrace genuine and lifelong sustainability.

In 2025, the Republic of Korea will host World Environment Day, focusing on a global commitment to end plastic pollution. This event will bring world leaders together to advance their Sustainable Development Goals, reminding us to reflect on our community efforts to preserve ecosystems and biodiversity by reducing plastic waste.My question to you is, what actions will you take today to ensure that we can change our future?

References

Ridley, R. (2023). Australia's resource recovery rate (recycling, waste reuse, and energy recovery) for 2020-21 was 63%, and the recycling rate was 60%. ACE Hub. Retrieved from ACE Hub

Taraporewalla, R. (2024). Reflections: A matter of wisdom, virtue and skills (not scaling). Head of Department—Ancient History.

Ritchie, M. (2020). 2 years since Asia stopped taking our recycling: Where do we stand? MRA Consulting. Retrieved from MRA Consulting

Addison, B. (2024). Academic integrity: Where to now? Academic Integrity—honesty, fairness, and ethical conduct in academic work. Brooks, D. (2015). The road to character. Random House.

Zhang, F., Zhao, Y., Wang, D., Yan, M., Zhang, J., Zhang, P., Ding, T., Chen, L., & Chen, C. (2021). Current technologies for plastic waste treatment: A review. Journal of Cleaner Production, 282, 124523. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jclepro.2020.124523

Nallapaneni, M. K., Hait, S., Priya, A., & Bohra, V. (2023). From trash to treasure: Unlocking the power of resource conservation, recycling, and waste management practices. Sustainability, 15(18), 13863. https://doi.org/10.3390/su151813863

CLARE O’QUINN (12L)

Dialogue as the distiller of fundamentals

Dr Bruce Addison, Deputy Principal (Academic) FRIDAY 14 JUNE 2024

Recently a team of our Year 11 students participated in the Brisbane Dialogues discussion forum. This was the first time we had participated in this event. The topic of the forum was ‘How do you think AI can improve education for all’. It was a most engaging afternoon. The discussion was lively, informed and topical. The role of the teacher in the Generative Artificial Intelligence (GAI) world was mentioned frequently. Eventually, attention focused on whether AI could one day replace teachers. Overwhelmingly our students said ‘no’! They opined most emphatically that nothing could replace the important relationship that exists between teacher and student. This acknowledgement was heartening given the claims that are made about the reach and impact of GAI, and the way it might ‘revolutionise’ the classroom. GAI has burst onto the scene and no one really knows what its significance will be, or how it will affect our lives. Even given this, if the musings of our students are representative—and they probably are—it seems that the teacher-student relationship will remain a fundamental and important basis of our classrooms as theatres of learning.

Given the potential disruption of GAI, in addition to all the other disruptors also in play in this third decade of the 21st century, this focus on the centrality of relationship trumped the seemingly unrelenting march of algorithmic contagion. Long may this be the case. The word ‘heartening’ is used carefully as educational relationality is all about the concept of ‘heart’. As Cixous and Colle-Gruber (1997:31) note:

There is a common speech, there is a common discourse, there is a universal emotion that is totally interchangeable and that goes through the organ of the heart. It is the commonality of heart that pre-conditions enlightenment in the classroom.

It is interesting how the concept of ‘dialogue’ helped to tease out one of the essential, if not the essential, bedrocks of the pedagogy underlying our classroom practice. As van Manen (1991:30) has highlighted:

Pedagogy is not just a word. Pedagogy is not just found in observational categories, but like love or friendship in the experience of the presence … pedagogy is cemented deep in the relationship between adults and children.

In a broader sense, the concept of dialogue has been fundamental to our concept of liberal democracy. Hearing our Year 11 students speak so intelligently and knowledgeably, a knowledge gleaned by their considerable research into the topic, made me wonder why the concept of dialogue seems so broken in our contemporary civic discourse. Sadly, the concept of dialogue has moved from the concept of discussion and discourse to dialogue as adversarialism and combat. This is where so much has gone awry. Dialogue is not adversarialism at all costs. Adversarialism at all costs drifts into binary thinking, which we know is so destructive. Dialogue is, and should be, a more rigorous and discerning process. The question becomes, ‘how do we breathe new life into this concept of dialogue?’ Such a renewal is crucial if we

are to generate more meaningful and proactive discussion so as to engage creatively with the important, if not existential, issues of our time.

Grassroots dialogues are essential components of our classrooms. This is especially the case given our ongoing commitment to visible thinking as everyday practice (Ritchhart, 2023). Genuine dialogue can take us to deeply human spaces, especially if it is partnered with discovery, understanding, tolerance and hopefully, compassion. Fundamental to all of this is the pedagogy of relationship that is so embedded in our concept of ‘school’. Schools are often the hidden treasures sprinkled across our suburbs.

The phosphorescent beacons of hope in our midst. What programs such as the Brisbane Dialogues give our students is the opportunity to discuss and formulate ideas with civility, depth and discernment. This experience offers a counter to our tired notion of dialogue as an oppositional binary. The issues confronting humanity are enormous. The opportunity to explore ideas as a genuine dialogue has provided a richness for our community. A richness that has been underscored by a fresh acknowledgement of the centrality of relationship to the pedagogical compact. Who knows what could be discovered afresh if such open dialogue was applied openly and freely to our ongoing civic discourse.

References

Cixous , H. and Calle‐Gruber , M. (1997). Hélène Cixous: Rootprints: Memory and Life Writing , Edited by: Prenowitz , E. Routledge . van Manen, M. (1991). The tact of teaching: the meaning of pedagogical thoughtfulness. Sunny Press Ritchhart, R. (2023). Cultures of Thinking in Action. Jossey-Bass.

LUCY CORBIN (7W)

MYCAH HERNANDEZ (12R)

Cancel Culture and Censorship: Will Anyone Stand the Test of Time?

Ms Veena Herron, Director of Communications and Engagement

FRIDAY 12 JULY 2024

Like most (older) adults, I remember when the only way I’d learn about celebrities—beyond their professional activities—was if they’d done something noteworthy enough to warrant inclusion on the nightly television news (and subsequently, in the following day’s newspaper).

Unquestionably a simpler time, it allowed me to love authors for their books alone, admire athletes purely for their on-field performance, and listen to music without concern about how my favourite bands behaved offstage.

However, the advent of social media brought with it the use of personal information as fodder for such platforms. As a result, the notion of privacy diminished and along with it, the threshold for what we deemed ‘newsworthy’. Suddenly, stories of celebrities’ personal behaviour dominated headlines in a way that made tabloid magazines seem archaic, generating interest and revenue; of course, this benefits media and individual alike. Yet, with every reward comes a risk: while ‘candid’ behind-the-scenes glimpses into celebrities’ lives may delight fans, interest in the elements they wish to keep private, the less-than-desirable traits, the metaphorical skeletons in one’s closet, have garnered not only interest, but action.

Cue: ‘cancelling’—publicly rejecting or boycotting someone because they’ve said or done something deemed offensive. There is a wide array of behaviour that contributes to one being ‘cancelled’, and some of it is horrific, and criminal. But importantly, some of it is not—so, how do we determine that someone has crossed the ‘line’ and deserves to have their career, their reputation end up in ruins? Can we denounce an artist’s actions without dismissing their art? And what of the blurry line between artists’ behaviour and their work? As Novak (2022) notes, ‘Hemingway’s works and his welldocumented antisemitism can inform us about acceptable attitudes at the time of writing. Bukowski can teach us what brutal misogyny looks like.’

We know that exposure to diversity of thought, opinion and topic—content that challenges us—contributes to informed discussion, allows us to consider our own beliefs, offers the opportunity to learn and be better (Gorlewski, 2023). As Oscar Wilde posited in The Decay of Lying – An Observation, if art becomes too concerned with facts and reality—if morality triumphs—‘art will become sterile and beauty will pass away from the land’ (Shulevitz, 2023). The lines between cancel culture and censorship are blurred, at best; at worst, one can masquerade as the other.

Roald Dahl is but one of many examples of both in action. Am I better or worse off for knowing that Dahl—who introduced me to the magic of Matilda, the fear of The Witches, and the mischievous brilliance of the eponymous character from George’s Marvellous Medicine—was likely a philanderer, racist and sexist? Do I condone his behaviour? Of course not. But, despite it, I still admire the magic of his writing—writing that has recently been edited to remove language ‘deemed offensive’. While the edits run into the hundreds, some include replacing ‘fat’ with ‘enormous’, removing the word ‘ugly’ as a descriptor, the Oompa Loompas are now ‘small people’ rather than ‘small men’. These changes were ostensibly made to ensure Dahl’s stories could ‘continue to be enjoyed by all’ (Vernon, 2023). Is Dahl’s ‘cancellation’ due to his questionable personal attributes, offensive language, or both? Should we boycott his work? Or, now that it’s been edited, does it remain consumable? Can we separate Dahl the person, from Dahl the author?

This is clearly a complex topic without a simple answer. However, the idea that we should ‘cancel’ anyone who’s

transgressed seems short-sighted and counterproductive: we’d never have any art to enjoy (for everyone has made a mistake); we’d lose important benchmarks that signify how as a society we have evolved, become better and hopefully more accepting; we’d deny ourselves the beauty of being lost in a book, a movie, a song. The power of enjoying, being surrounded by the beauty and joy of art in a world where productivity dominates, should not be underestimated.

Can art ever truly transcend the artist? To give an inherently human answer: I don’t know. Some people would vehemently argue that yes, it is possible, while others find the two inextricably linked. I think there’s a lot of ‘grey’ space in between these black-and-white approaches. Perhaps it comes down to Hess’ (2017) observation that, ‘if a piece of art is truly spoiled by an understanding of the conditions under which it is made, then perhaps the artist was not quite as exceptional as we had thought’. And the decision of whether something is spoiled for us is one we have to make for ourselves.

References

Gorlewski, J. (2023, Fall). Censorship hinders critical thinking and infringes on readers' rights. Learn Magazine. Retrieved from https://ed.buffalo.edu/ magazine/issues/fall-2023/censorship.html#:~:text=A%20thriving%20democracy%20requires%20an,for%20learners%20of%20all%20ages.

Hess, A. (2017, November 10). How the Myth of the Artistic Genius Excuses the Abuse of Women. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes. com/2017/11/10/arts/sexual-harassment-art-hollywood.html

Novak, J. (2022). In His Time: The Early Stories of Ernest Hemingway. Seattle: Fantagraphics. Shulevitz, J. (2023, April 12). It's Okay to Like Good Art by Bad People. Art transcends the artist. The Atlantic. Retrieved from https://www.theatlantic.com/ magazine/archive/2023/05/separate-art-from-artist-cancel-culture-monsters-book/673497/

Vernon, H. (2023, February 19). Roald Dahl books rewritten to remove language deemed offensive. The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian. com/books/2023/feb/18/roald-dahl-books-rewritten-to-remove-language-deemed-offensive

Reflections of an Immersion to the Top End

Ms Lynne Mungomery, Director of Service FRIDAY

19

JULY 2024

My name is Lynne. My Skin Name is Galajan and my Totem is the black cockatoo. I am the daughter of an English immigrant who met his life partner on Gunaikurnai Country in Victoria. As a young family, we moved to Wulgurukaba tribal territory in North Queensland. I now live on Turrbal and Jagera Country in southeast Queensland. Today, I pay my respect to the elders and traditional owners of Jawoyn Country, who recently welcomed me to their Land, and opened their hearts to share with me their wisdom, traditions and culture. I extend this respect to their ancestors, who kept me safe while I visited their Land. It is with great fondness that I think of their young family members, the grandchildren who opened my eyes to their joy of learning and their inherent respect for family and culture.

I make this Acknowledgement of Country from the heart. These words have a deeper meaning to me now, having spent time on Country and connecting with the traditional owners of Banatjarl and Barrapunta, on an eight-day immersion with a colleague and 14 Grammar girls to Southern Arnhem Land.

I am unsure if the way I express this Acknowledgment of Country is absolutely correct. Perhaps it might offend an Indigenous person who might be reading this reflection. I hope not. However, as I often say to students and colleagues when I open an assembly or a meeting with similar words, it is my attempt to reach out and express my appreciation for the tremendous history of this place that we call home. With fresh confidence bestowed on me by the Elders we connected with during our Top End Immersion, I feel encouraged that my intention to respect their culture with these words is appreciated.

As a visiting school group, we had the honour of taking part in a Welcome to Country ceremony upon arrival at each Homeland. It was important that the Traditional Owners welcome us to their land. Each ceremony was slightly different, consistent with the many ways and customs of the different peoples in the Northern Territory. What was similar was the request made by the Elders, to their ancestors, to keep their visitors safe. At Banatjarl the ceremony was led by Aunty Joanne. An important aspect was the inclusion and guidance she offered to her granddaughters in wetting our heads in a water ceremony. Smoke was a sacred addition to a similar water blessing at Barrapunta.

Students set an array of personal intentions in joining the Immersion. A common theme was the rare opportunity to explore the Homelands, to meet the Traditional Owners, and to engage in activities that most people would never

SIENA MAHER (10B)

experience as a visiting traveller. The students hoped to learn about deep-seated traditions and engage with Indigenous communities on their land. Essentially, students wished to make connections, build relationships and enhance their individual understanding as they connected with Country and the People.

Such optimistic expectations were perhaps in contrast to our feelings upon arrival at Banatjarl. The now extremely dusty 4WD bus and trailer, which had earlier been filled with the vocals of (surely) every Taylor Swift song, was now silent. A chain wire fence, a large dusty concrete slab and shed, random chairs and littered surrounds evoked feelings of unease. However, it was not long before the shed was filled with children from the few nearby houses. They delighted us with their genuine excitement and joy to welcome and get to know us. The sharing of simple games, food, and a campfire meant that the unfamiliar environment soon became one of kindness and warmth. The following day we experienced basket weaving and bush medicine with the women of the Banatjarl Strongbala Wimun Grup, as well as swimming, fishing and the smoky sunset with the families of the community. It was on this evening that we each received our Skin Name and Totem from the Elders.

We then travelled many miles on the narrow Central Arnhem Road, filled with red dust, potholes, road trains and squeals from the back seat of the bus as we bounced around, secured by our seat belts. Gazing out the bus window offered a rapidly changing landscape—from cultural burning to an unseasonal green dry season (courtesy of a heavy wet season), with waterholes filled with wild water buffalo, and the occasional brahman, dingo and donkey. It was refreshing to stare out the window and reflect on all that we had experienced in this first week of our school holidays.

In stark contrast to our previous Homeland was the new landscape at Barrapunta. Tall shady trees, grass cover that easily accepted thin metal tent pegs, and the knowledge that

tents could remain standing for three days. This helped when the trailer was opened to reveal our luggage covered in fine red dust. Like some other Homelands, Barrapunta has an airstrip, solar panels for lighting the central stone brick building, an abundance of fresh spring water and wireless internet. The latter seemed to be ignored by the young travellers who admitted to enjoying their digital detox.

Traditional Owners, Anne and Alfred, do not live onsite. Along with their granddaughter, Latifa, they joined us on the bus from Bulman. Time with Anne and Alfred was spent listening intently to many stories, feasting on Anne’s damper and the kangaroo tail that Alfred cooked in the earth oven.

It is intended that the Barrapunta Community will be able to live and work on this picturesque Homeland in the future. We hope that our community projects will contribute to this goal. The bathrooms now have new shower heads, rails and curtains, and the tranquil waterhole has a safer entry place following some clearing and the addition of a gabion step— evidence of our effort and fundraising in action.

From here, I am unsure if I will again have the privilege of being welcomed onto Homelands, learning from Traditional Owners and experiencing the many crafts and customs of our First Peoples, all of which have offered valuable personal insights for myself and the students. Upon our return to school, we hope to nurture greater cultural understanding, empathy, and awareness within the BGGS community, building a bridge between cultures (George, 2023).

As we expected, it was challenging to leave behind the shared experiences, new friendships and stories of the places that we previously recognised as King Valley Station and Emu Springs. While the pathway to genuine reconciliation and ‘closing the gap’ remains immense, camp-fire reflections reveal a desire to learn more about, and preserve, Indigenous knowledge, culture and history. For now, we have very fond memories of our Top End Immersion with the people and lands of Banatjarl and Barrapunta.

Reference

George, Shonam. (2023). BGGS Red Earth Top End Immersion

ELAINE COWAN (12L)

Lights, camera, action: Open Day

Mrs Pauline Harvey-Short (1971), Manager School History and Culture

FRIDAY 26 JULY 2024

What school day would give you total chaos but turn into stunning elegance: a week of electricians in the bushes; distribution of thousands of sheets of multicoloured cardboard; enough Blutac to make a soccer ball; thousands of thumb tacks; 500 white and blue helium balloons or 583 metres of environmentally responsible royal blue ribbon; or 181 metres of Velcro dots? Of course, School Day!

Many young Grammar Women would be saying, what is School Day? Perhaps Open Day would ring more familiar with those students hailing from 2002 to the present.

When asked to reflect on my experiences of School Day or Open Day, I seemed a logical candidate as an old girl, staff member, ex-Director of Health Physical Education and Sport, organiser of Open Day and past Dean of School. To have experienced and been intimately involved in 45 of these events is confronting!

2024 sees our 67th Open Day take place later today, which doesn’t seem an impressive number really given BGGS is on the cusp of celebrating 150 years. However, 111 years of open doors does! Open Day was born from Old Girls’ Day, first chronicled in 1913 in the inaugural School Magazine. The 125-year impact of the Old Girls Association (OGA), their drive, obvious love of the School, and belief in its values and education for women is inspirational.

Old Girls’ Day started as, ‘One Saturday afternoon in each year there is an “annual” social meeting at the school and a tennis

match between Past versus Present (students)’ (BGGS Magazine 1913). This match was followed by an afternoon tea which morphed into a ‘Bring and Buy’ fete organised by the OGA.

Like all things Grammar, progress and creative thought result in bigger and better events. In 1957, Old Girls’ Day was ‘suspended’, and the OGA combined with the School and the Parents and Friends Association to hold School Day. On arrival at Girls Grammar in 1967, I experienced School Day (1957-1997), then School Expo (1998-2001) and now Open Day (2002-current day). Each of these iterations hold a range of memories—as a current student, a Director of a Faculty, and an organiser.

My clearest memory as a student was our Form 4B—read: Year 10—School Day. Our fundraiser for the School was to be a café entitled Maud Glutts’ Speak Easy! Under the guidance of our Form Mistress, Miss Lesley Trotter, the class transformed what is now known as W2.4 into an atmospheric refreshment area. Or so we thought! Huge posters, all hand drawn by the members of 4B, graced the walls, tables and chairs were arranged, and curtains were drawn to create a secluded, quiet area in the bustle of School Day. I have no idea of the funds raised but we had the best time!

Fast forward to the 1990s where my role shifted to Director of Health, Physical Education and Sport. The McCrae Grassie Sports Centre was a hive of activity where artistic gymnasts were flicking, split leaping, and forward rolling on the ‘blue floor’; the foyer was a display of all sports on offer; climbers

were literally going up the wall; rhythmic gymnasts were throwing, leaping and creating illusions; and netballers and basketballers were shooting and passing. The mezzanine was full of young girls being mesmerised by the movement, and parents were seeing their lives for the next five years flash before their eyes! All this coupled with a subject display manned by enthusiastic Physical Education teachers sharing the wonders of exercise physiology, anatomy, history of sport, biomechanics, and health science. And all this before Hirschfeld hot potatoes and Mackay cupcakes!

2005 saw my role shift again, and I became responsible for the organisation of the whole event. Yet another perspective working with the ever-accommodating and creative ground staff, the inspired academic and professional staff, the caterers, the Senior Leadership Group, and the hardworking support groups which, of course, included the ubiquitous OGA. All working towards a vibrant, exciting and dynamic Open Day, which captured us all, well into the evening.

A permanent accoutrement for the day was a two-way radio worn constantly on my hip. During the late morning the two-way kicked in with, ‘Pauline, we have a problem. Can you meet me on the terraces?’ I arrived to seeing five groundsmen looking upwards at a tree fern. Happily coiled at the top was a very laconic carpet snake. All five pairs of eyes dropped to me. After ascertaining we had no experienced snake handlers amongst us, I went immediately to Reception and rang the

RSPCA. Said snake was respectfully removed during the chaos of lunchtime, much to the enjoyment of the students. Another problem solved.

However, how do we compare this calm snake removal to the catastrophe of COVID-19? In 2021, an immaculate-looking school and the infiltration of the virus led to a two-week lockdown impacting thousands of Queenslanders, including what seemed like the vast majority of Brisbane’s medical profession. Owing to personal circumstances, I was unable to attend this Open Day, which meant I could deliver sustenance to my then-quarantined sister, Kristine, who had diligently attended that event, her 56th Open Day.

Successful Open Days require an enormous amount of preparation, effort, and creativity by the whole School community. Although memories blur, staff change, and Grammar girls become Grammar Women, what underpins this success and remains the same, always, is the buzz of the occasion, the joy of returning Grammar Women looking to link with past staff members and friends, the pride in the School looking vibrant, beautiful, loved, and welcoming, and the joie de vivre of the current students greeting the next cohort who will make their mark on this extraordinary school. Come on Grammar blue, blue, blue!

GRACE GRANT (12B)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

The State of Digital Design: Celebrating 33 Years of the World Wide Web

Mr Brendon Thomas, Director of Technologies FRIDAY 2 AUGUST 2024

The World Wide Web (WWW) has been a transformative force for 33 years, driving innovation and connecting the world in unprecedented ways. However, despite its rapid evolution and technological advances, the WWW still grapples with significant design challenges. Many digital services and products remain unintuitive and unreliable, leading to issues with accessibility, safety, and inclusion (particularly for older adults and individuals with impairments). Innovators and futurists see this as an opportunity to address fundamental human needs through thoughtful redesigns to future proof the ubiquitous technology.

We all know that the Internet has become an indispensable part of modern life, with its impact only amplified during the COVID-19 pandemic. Technologies like Zoom and FaceTime became essential tools for maintaining connection, demonstrating how resilient digital systems can be under pressure. However, continuous efforts are required to address security vulnerabilities, standardise protocols, enhance accessibility, and improve performance to create a safer, more reliable, and inclusive web.

A stark reminder of the fragility of our digital systems occurred last month, on 19 July 2024, now known as ‘International Bluescreen Day’. A flawed channel file update caused a logic

error in Microsoft updates, triggering global outages. It has been estimated the cost of this outage—to US Fortune 500 companies alone—is more than $5.4 billion, let alone the cost to other businesses and industries around the world. This incident, which did not affect Mac and Linux systems, highlighted widespread security vulnerabilities and the fragility of modern digital infrastructure—and importantly, the need for diversity in system design.

Even with numerous technological advances, many digital systems remain unintuitive, inaccessible, and prone to failure.

A recent incident I noticed at a food court in the city exemplified this issue for me. I saw a customer struggling to order food via an interactive screen. The outlet assistant's response was, ‘sorry, you must use the screen; I cannot help from this side of the counter’. This not only highlights an obviously lacking design (which is all too common with digital interfaces), but also a lacking human response. If the Crowdstrike issue has taught us anything, it is that we must maintain both human and system interactions—for we know systems are not infallible. Such design flaws are pervasive, and the trend toward app-based solutions, such as parking payments via the Cello App (with this sometimes the only option), raises concerns about accessibility for those without smartphones.

The assumption that everyone has a smartphone is a dangerous one. Based on US data, we know that 97 per cent of Americans own a mobile device of some kind, and 90 per cent of those own a smart phone. In Australia, figures are similar, with 81 per cent of the community using a smartphone in 2018 (estimated to be 87 per cent by 2026); 2024 data indicates that of 16-64 year olds who access the Internet, only 3 per cent don’t have a smart phone. But that is still about 750 000 Australians between the ages of 16 and 64—not even taking into account those who fall outside this bracket. How will their interaction with a technology focused world continue to change?

We know that digital devices are often designed for distraction and the attention economy, and can contribute to numerous psychosocial and mental health issues if not used responsibly. To address these issues, a deeper curiosity is required, a curiosity that focuses on understanding, controls and user experience—without a sole focus on keeping users on their devices. Responsibility on both sides—user and provider—is essential. Internationally renowned curiosity expert, Scott Shigeoka (2023), emphasises the importance of looking for clues and hints to solve complex problems such as this, advocating for a broader ‘opening of the door’ perspective on inclusive design. One recent example is that of US Democratic Representative, Jennifer Wexton, becoming the first lawmaker

to ‘use an AI-generated model of her voice’ to speak to the House. Wexton, who lost the ability to use her voice fully due to a progressive condition, supranuclear palsy, said the moment brought her ‘to tears’.

As with any technology, there are pros and cons, and opportunities—including for our students—to consider how to best use design thinking for the benefit of the broader community. Design is a way of thinking that adheres to basic psychological principles, creating a sense of understanding, control, and a positive experience for users. Sometimes, the best design is invisible, seamlessly integrating into users' lives. When existing designs are flawed, it falls to young technologists to fix prevailing systems and create more inclusive and reliable digital experiences, such as giving someone back her voice.

As we celebrate 33 years of the WWW, it is clear that while significant progress has been made, there is still a long way to go. Addressing the ongoing challenges of security, standardisation, accessibility and performance optimisation is crucial for the future of successful digital design. By fostering a deeper curiosity and a commitment to thoughtful design, we can create a web that truly meets the needs of all users, ensuring a safer, more inclusive, and reliable digital world for the next generation—and hopefully also retain options for human interactions for those who prefer not to interact online.

References

Shigeoka, S. (2023). SEEK: How curiosity can transform your life and change the world. Retrieved from https://seekthebook.com/. Robins-Early. (2024). CrowdStrike global outage to cost US Fortune 500 companies $5.4bn. The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/ technology/article/2024/jul/24/crowdstrike-outage-companies-cost

AI voice clone enables lawmaker to speak in US Congress. (2024). Retrieved from https://dig.watch/updates/ai-voice-clone-enables-lawmaker-to-speak-in-uscongress

Law, D. (2023). Australian Mobile Phone Statistics. Retrieved from https://www.redsearch.com.au/resources/australian-mobile-statistics/#:~:text=How%20 many%20Australians%20don't,perspective%2C%20that's%20barely%20756%2C300%20people.

Smartphone penetration rate as share of the population in Australia in 2017 with an estimate until 2026. (2021). Retrieved from https://www.statista.com/ statistics/321477/smartphone-user-penetration-in-australia/

ELISE JACKSON (12B)

Imagination or Knowledge? Which is more important for science education?

Dr Sally Stephens, Director of Science

FRIDAY 9 AUGUST 2024

Imagination is more important than knowledge.

Albert Einstein

One of my favourite episodes of The Big Bang Theory is when Penny, (cheerleader, prom queen, aspiring actress) asks Sheldon (theoretical physicist, studying string theory) to help her understand the current research of her boyfriend, Leonard (experimental physicist, studying the movement of sub-atomic particles). Sheldon agrees, and his lesson plan has merit. He believes that if Penny is to truly understand quantum theory, she has to appreciate its development from its origins in Ancient Greece, circa 600BC, and take a ‘2600-year journey’: from Isaac Newton; to Neils Bohr; to Erwin Schrodinger; and to a group of Dutch researchers currently doing work similar to Leonard’s. Some time into this journey, Sheldon’s whiteboard shows evidence of both physical representations and mathematical models designed to help Penny visualise abstract scientific concepts relevant to the topic.

During the instruction, Penny criticises Sheldon’s teaching style while demonstrating several common characteristics of someone who, while enthusiastic, is not prepared for the

learning to come. She has a lack of background knowledge (what are sub-atomic particles?), poor mathematical skills (she can’t cancel mass from both sides of an equation and does not understand exponents), does not want to take notes (she comes to class with neither pen nor paper), and complains that the pace of instruction is too fast for her to keep up. Of course, Sheldon doesn’t help. He treats Penny as a subject rather than a learner, and is both disparaging and condescending. He also raises the stakes, and thereby diminishes Penny’s confidence, by telling her she is to be tested. A considerable hindrance to her capacity to learn about quantum theory is that Penny is clearly not motivated to acquire a deep understanding of the topic; instead, she is happy to memorise the gist of (Sheldon’s perspective of) Leonard’s research to show him and his friends that she is interested in his work.

A historical approach to quantum physics (sans the contribution of the Dutch research team) is very familiar in contemporary physics textbooks. I used a similar approach when my Year 12 Physics class studied the topic in Term 2. The class investigated

the development of atomic theory by examining a model of the atom, identifying what known observations it could and could not explain, and following the line of thinking and discoveries that led to the next iteration of the model—Thomson, Rutherford, Bohr, De Broglie, Schrödinger. For the most part, our Year 12 Physics students have all the skills that Penny lacked but, as with many abstract scientific concepts, the most important skill of all is the ability to use one’s imagination.

Imagination is often considered a trait of the arts, synonymous with creativity, and it is sometimes dismissed as frivolous because of its association with play. However, everything that requires constructing something new involves imagination. In our everyday lives, our imagination allows us to solve problems, enjoy a good book, redecorate, or put together an outfit. In the fields of science and mathematics, imagination is typically linked to innovation and the development of new ideas, but its role in the rigorous intellectual pursuit of meaning-making can be underappreciated. In science education, students use their imaginations to make sense of challenging concepts and processes that are not new to science, but are new to them. They are not innovating, they are learning.

Imagination is more than just the formulation of mental images because we can imagine things that are nonimageable, like heat or mathematical solutions. There is a difference between picturing a physics-related scenario and imagining how to solve a mathematical problem associated with it. In physics, visualising often precedes successful problem-solving. For example, when faced with a problem like ‘calculating the induced electromotive force across the wings of a plane moving horizontally towards the north’, students first aim to create a mental image of the orientation of the physics phenomena pertinent to the scenario, possibly committing it to paper, before imagining the mathematical steps required for its solution. When learning, imagination allows the abstract, the invisible, and the non-imageable to be perceived. It is primarily an individual construct, but its results can be shared and refined through collaboration, to which many learners can attest.

Information is easier to remember if represented in both visual and verbal forms, which is why concrete concepts are easier to learn than abstract ones. When students learn

rudimentary abstract concepts, teachers concretise them as much as possible by means of:

(a) contextualisation, using hands-on and other real-life experiences

(b) visual aids, in the form of still and animated images, audio recordings, and physical models

(c) simple analogies

(d) basic mathematical models

(e) discussion, as a way of forming connections.

This is where students begin to develop their skills in applying their imaginations to meaning-making. However, challenging abstract concepts—like quantum theory in physics, microscopic processes in biology, and subatomic mechanisms in chemistry—are not easily represented in visual or verbal forms. They rely on students using their imaginations to merge their experiences, observations, and scientific knowledge with the visual and verbal cues provided.

Certainly, a lack of background scientific knowledge and essential mathematical skills can impede the learning process. But, importantly, so can an underdeveloped imagination. As illustrated through her challenges in understanding quantum theory, Penny was doubly doomed. Even if she had a good imagination, which in this instance she didn’t, she didn’t have the basic building blocks (of knowledge and skills) to imagine with. While knowledge and skills provide the foundation, imagination propels learners toward deeper comprehension and innovation, and facilitates the understanding of abstract concepts.

Einstein argued that imagination is more important than knowledge because imagination allows us to explore possibilities beyond our current understanding and see beyond the obvious, but both are important to the learning process. It is through the imaginative application of knowledge that students can fully appreciate the complexities of science and develop the skills necessary for intellectual growth. Therefore, nurturing imagination alongside knowledge in science education is not only beneficial, but essential for fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of the world around us.

MIKAELA ARMSTRONG (9E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

In the Weeds and the Wilderness: Caring for Year 7s on Outdoor Education Programs

Mr David Rawson, Head of Curriculum Development English

FRIDAY 16 AUGUST 2024

What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins

Growing up in the Sunshine Coast hinterland, I remember weekends spent in the nature reserve near my grandparents’ house. I would explore the expanse of rainforest to its utmost boundaries, crossing the creek over fallen logs to catch glimpses of wildlife in the understory. Adventures in the outdoors became a normal part of my childhood, and I’m pleased that my early love of the natural world endured, certainly outliving my toy wheelbarrow and terry-towelling bucket hat.

It is perhaps unsurprising then that I relish the opportunity to attend Outdoor Education Programs with my Year 7 House Group. But it’s not lost on me that while I look forward to my week at Marrapatta each year, many of our Year 7s feel a tad

apprehensive in the lead up to their first program. It’s all very understandable: for many students in the House Group, Marrapatta represents the first time they will spend a night away from their families. For some, it’s the prospect of camping out and forgoing creature comforts that causes most concern, while others worry about walking through mud, or going hungry. Even the most devoted nature lovers in the group can find a week away from home to be a significant step outside their comfort zone. While students’ enjoyment of the program depends largely on their mindset and openness to new experiences, it is the remarkable support that is afforded to the girls that makes me wish others could share my special vantage point as a supervising teacher.

In Preparation

In the weeks before the experience, Heads of House work closely with the Outdoor Education teachers and Floreamus Centre staff to identify any students who may require additional support while away. Great care is taken to ensure that students’ dorm allocations will be suitable, and that all dietary requirements will be catered for. Girls are formally briefed by visiting Marrapatta staff, and meet their Year 10 Marrapatta Seniors, who have attended three outdoor programs already and accompany the Year 7s as part of their own leadership journey. There is always a sense of excitement and trepidation in the House Group as the girls design their ‘dilly bags’, which will be used to store their plastic plates and cutlery during their camp-out.

Monday

When departure day rolls around, the mood is mixed as students hand in their phones and set off from Spring Hill for their outdoor adventure. But when we arrive at the Marrapatta Memorial Outdoor Education Centre and pass through the wrought-iron gates commissioned by the Old Girls Association, everyone has the sense that they have arrived somewhere special. I feel like I have returned home as I gather with Marrapatta colleagues who have become like family over the years. As they sit in the friendship circle up on the grassy flat and read the Acknowledgement of Country aloud, they become inducted into a different kind of learning environment: one where self-awareness and respect for place are as important as good communication and shared responsibility.

The first day is spent exploring the beautiful property, with students using a map to navigate their way from the alpacas to the Dorothy Hill Observatory—and everything in between. The afternoon culminates in a challenging hike to the Tippy Top Mountain on the property, and girls typically feel an enormous sense of achievement to have made it there, enjoying a sunset view of Borumba Dam in the distance. Dinner is always fresh and delicious, and girls are often surprised by the generosity and variety available. Students enjoy the company of their classmates on the verandah, laughing about the marvellous names they have invented for the resident chickens.

Marrapatta isn’t like any school camp our students have done before; it’s the start of new beginnings.

Already by the end of the first day, the teaching team is observing and strategising. Conversations are had about how to best support individuals who might be a little nervous about forming new friendships, or who appear rattled by the change to their routines. We also work with the Year 10 Marrapatta Seniors to help us promote a culture of interdependence and kindness, mentoring them so that they might feel a sense of responsibility for the experience of the fledgling Year 7s who look up to them.

Tuesday

When the weather is looking good on Day Two, it’s decided that we will proceed with the Team Challenge Day. Marrapatta staff and I are stationed around the property while girls move in groups to complete a series of challenges. Within their teams, they engage in critical thinking and creative problem solving, working to overcome some kind of obstacle. I see a different side to some of the students I teach: one student, who can appear disengaged at times in English, is confidently delegating tasks and leading her team to success.

Later that afternoon, we head to another area of the property where we will camp, and girls learn how to assemble their tents. We gather in the nonagon designed by the Fathers Group and enjoy an excellent cook-up. As the sun sets and the head torches come on, some students slice and dice the vegetables while others take ownership of the trangias, boiling the water for pasta and ensuring there is enough fuel to sustain the cook. Nobody goes to bed hungry, and the chocolate mousse that girls have prepared for dessert is always well received.

Wednesday

A koala is spied in a tree the next morning, and the Director of Outdoor Education sends up a drone to collect footage for the local agency charged with identifying and inoculating them. It’s a precious moment we all cherish. After a quick breakfast, it’s time for the Sugar Glider—our Year 7 girls’ introduction to high ropes. Some students embrace the chance to soar among the treetops while their friends heave the rope, but others are

a little uneasy about the prospect of human flight. It is heartening to see the way that classmates rally around our nervous flyers, offering them a word of kindness and reassurance that usually results in a tentative first go in the harness, and a bold second flight. During the high ropes activity, half of the group is reflecting on their program with Marrapatta staff, sharing their personal goals for the week and evaluating their own engagement. The one-on-one conversations become a critical way of ensuring that every girl is travelling well. The girls’ Head of House arrives from Spring Hill, and the teacher support team grows.

Thursday

Thursday is spent at the School’s neighbouring property of Bella Junction. Venturing beyond Marrapatta for the first time on their stay, girls must cross a running stream to get to paradise on the other side. There are some team activities that promote good communication and lateral thinking, and then girls work in groups to transform a tangle of ropes, empty drums and sticks of bamboo into a raft, which they race down Yabba Creek. The Year 10 Marrapatta Seniors assist with knot-tying and vessel design, and their skills are highly sought after. The Marrapatta staff, who have only worked with the girls for three days, already know each student by name and can speak confidently about each girl’s progress.

As we move between the two properties, Marrapatta staff block the road at both ends so that we enjoy clear and safe passage. We’re all tired by the time we make it back to base, but we still head out on a nocturnal expedition to see wildlife, and are rewarded when we find little sugar gliders leaping from their nesting boxes. We also look at the night sky that glimmers a little brighter away from all the city lights, and

begin to trace the constellations we can identify. On the land of the Kabi Kabi people—our first astronomers—it’s hard not to feel a sense of connection to this extraordinary place.

Friday

The time away culminates in a precious opportunity for reflection on the final morning. Students take some time to consider their personal growth over the course of the program and acknowledge those classmates who have helped them during the week. Photos and memories get shared from their adventures. It is heartening to see the way that everybody pitches in to help get Marrapatta ready for the next group’s arrival.

As we board the bus to return to Spring Hill before the end of the school day, there is a sense that students have grown a great deal during their week away. The five days free from devices enables an authentic and unmediated engagement among students, where some relationships are consolidated and new ones are formed. Some students may have learned how to cut a capsicum more effectively or how to assemble a tent, while others have learned the value of trying something new or remaining open to being surprised. Many commit to treading more gently on the planet, conscious of the beautiful but fragile ecosystem around them.

Regardless of personal learning journeys our students have been on, all of them are supported by an entire team of people who have worked in loco parentis to ensure their positive experience over the week. Students have no doubt found themselves metaphorically ‘in the weeds’ at some point during their stay, and thanks to the dazzling constellation of student care around them, they’ve flourished.

CHARLOTTE MINNERY (7E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Talkin’ ‘bout A.I. generation: creativity versus artificial intelligence

Mr Stephen Fogarty, Director of Health and Physical Education

FRIDAY 23 AUGUST 2024

I’ve been thinking about creativity a lot lately. In writing this reflection, I’m asking you to collect your thoughts on it too. But first … some background.

Late in Term 2 of this year, I had a conversation with a work colleague who is immersed in the Arts curriculum. We were discussing a range of topics, but the conversation ultimately landed on music—a topic that he is eminently qualified to speak on. My colleague has a deep technical understanding of music, and a profound understanding of its emotional impact. Whilst I have none of his technical prowess, my lifelong love of music and my own understanding of its emotional affect, allowed us to have a satisfyingly thoughtful discussion even if, truthfully, he had to lower the technical ‘bar’ for me. Toward the end of our discussion, he made a statement that got me thinking.

He said: You understand, because you are a creative.

Am I?—I thought.

Rick Rubin knows a bit about creativity. As an influential music producer—helping create music with a diverse range of artists such as Beastie Boys, Adele, Metallica, Lady Gaga, and Johnny Cash—he is invested. In his book, The Creative Act:

A Way of Being (2023), Rubin offers a spiritual treatise on creativity. He articulates the difficulty that most of us have in identifying ourselves as creatives, because we generally see creativity as the domain of artists. Moreover, he notes that we perceive creativity as something extraordinary or beyond our capabilities; it is maybe even a gift reserved for the special few who are born with it. I’m not spoiling the book in saying that he doesn’t agree with that assertion.

Rubin suggests that creativity is not a rare ability. Not only that, but it is also easily accessible. When seen in this light, creativity is a fundamental aspect of being human. One only needs to become (more) attuned to the circumstances whereby their creativity might flourish. In this sense, we need to remember our child’s mind—the one that allowed us to accept new information with delight and wonder—so that we allow ourselves to see the world through uncynical, innocent eyes, instead of through a lens clouded with existing beliefs.

His philosophy is simple.

The ability to look deeply is the root of creativity. To see past the ordinary and mundane and get to what might otherwise be invisible. (Rubin, 2023. p 23)

Material for this experience is all around us. It is in the conversation with a friend or family member, or the overheard conversation between strangers. It is in observing a painting, or in observing elite athletes performing. It is in reading a book, listening to music, or mulling over different points of view in a classroom. Ultimately, it’s about paying attention to details that might otherwise seem unworthy of our attention—a colour combination, a pattern of events, or an unfamiliar turn-of-phrase.

Crucially, it’s what we choose to do with this world of information that defines the creative act.

Let’s look at writing as an example. At a time when it is easy to ask a few questions of an artificial intelligence program and have it generate a written answer in seconds, it is perhaps understandable that people might be tempted to outsource the production of a written response. Where’s the fun in that? I personally enjoy the challenge of starting with an empty page and, sometime later, seeing that same page filled with words (with some of them having even been arranged into coherent sentences!). As a process, it is both magical and mundane. In filling the page, I am drawing from that world of information; the one that I have observed, collected, and curated over many years. It is a world of information that is unique to me and, in creating something from that world, I add it to the universe where it will perhaps be used by another collector to create something else.

What of the ‘collector’ who is time-poor and outcome-driven? Despite knowing better, they might not find it hard to justify the use of artificial intelligence to generate a response and present it as their own. When I told people from beyond the School community that I was writing this piece, many of them suggested that I use artificial intelligence to generate it. I never even considered it. Again, where’s the fun in that and, in any case, why would I deliberately invite cognitive dissonance into my life?

Much of the AI-generated writing that crosses my desk leaves me cold. It has an uncanny valley quality. It’s mostly sterile in

its execution, and it lacks something. It lacks warmth; warmth borne out of the human experience. Yes, I understand that AI draws from more information than I could possibly absorb in a lifetime, and that it is getting ‘better’ with each new request.

But, if we are willing to outsource our own writing, our drawing, indeed, our work, then we are giving up on an enormously important part of our humanity—the ability to create. Giving up on that innately human ability to experience the world and then to express that (what is, for each of us, a unique) experience, through the act of creation seems like too big a price to pay for expediency.

I’m still not sure if I’m worthy to be thought of as ‘a creative’, but I’d settle for someone to think of me as being creative. It’s my cognitive inheritance after all, and I would be dishonouring generation upon generation of those who have come before me if I were to let someone or something else create in my name.

I want to be creative, to be able to solve problems, to be able to express myself by drawing from my unique version of the human experience. In doing so, I will present an undoubtedly flawed, yet authentic version of my creativity—not something inauthentic, produced in seconds by artificial intelligence. Because the creativity is in the process, not the result. It is the act of creation that gives the product its meaning. I try to instil this in my students, but it’s not always easy. They are often concerned with the end result, or the final mark, or the way their subjects scale. Sometimes they tell me that they don’t have time to concern themselves with process; they only have time for the outcome. In effect, they are saying that they don’t have time to be creative and, in doing so, they diminish themselves. There is a place for generative artificial intelligence (even in our classrooms), but creativity is borne of struggle; the struggle to understand a concept, the struggle to direct a basketball into a hoop, the struggle to write the first sentence of an assessment task (or a Reflections article). I wouldn’t want to outsource that, because it’s an inherently human characteristic. It is the sign of creativity. It is the sign of a creative.

Reference

Rubin, R. (2023). The Creative Act: A Way of Being. Canongate.

Will you remember me?

Mrs Jenny Davis, Research Officer (Sesquicentenary) FRIDAY

30 AUGUST 2024

History is everywhere at Brisbane Girls Grammar School, with its heritage buildings, unique sculptures and artworks, significant gardens, picket fence and even a century-old fig tree creating a kaleidoscope of traditions and a unique sense of place. If buildings could speak, the Main Building would have plenty of stories to tell of the lives of long-gone pupils and staff whose secrets it has been guarding for over 140 years (note: the Main Building opened in 1884).

Where better to unearth those secrets and stories than in the School’s Archive—the place where Girls Grammar’s collective memory and history is stored? Over time our memories will fade, our recollections of individual and shared events will not

be as sharp, and our feelings of pride in shared past events will undoubtedly dwindle, but an Archive can protect us from this collective memory loss because it contains the evidence of what went before, evidence of us and our community.

In 1924, Canadian Archivist, Arthur Doughty, described archives as ‘the gift of one generation to another’ (Brothman, 2010). While no archival collection is ever ‘complete’, we are fortunate at Girls Grammar to have a wealth of fascinating recollections, reports, correspondence and objects to inform today’s Grammar community what the School—with its changing Board of Trustees, 16 Principals, hundreds of staff and thousands of pupils—has been like over the past 149 years.

1926 Photograph of The Dear Old School donated by Eva Tipper (BGGS 1926-1930)

It is wonderful to think that what is housed in the Archive will become gifts to future generations, and the very same objects that have surprised me will delight, inform and enrich the stories of future generations.

Archivists are historians and record keepers, but they are also educators, and a school is the perfect place to stimulate a spirit of enquiry amongst students.

The Australian Society of Archivists (2024) asks archivists to ‘encourage and support the social, cultural and historical value of archives within the School’s curriculum by providing access to primary source material, in line with the best conservation practices’, and the Australian Curriculum requires an increased integration of primary resources into the classroom.

As such, BGGS Staff have previously developed lesson plans for students using material from the Archives. Some have used the historical Mothers Group material to examine popular culture and women in sport, while senior History students have traced the war experiences of students whose names are written on the Old Girls Honour Boards.

Today, Year 7 students’ first Humanities Unit, ‘Investigating our Past at Brisbane Girls Grammar School’ allows students access to the Archive and its many primary sources, providing them with a familiar focus for the start of their historical inquiries. Delving into boxes of badges, prize books, uniforms and student publications allows them to get outside the classroom, away from the idea that history is boring, irrelevant and distant, as they use the archive collection and its material culture to acquaint themselves with the different concepts of inquiry-based learning and document-based questions. The School’s precious primary resources can be explored and unwrapped and, at the same time, become tangible teaching aids to students.

During their ‘archive session’, students are given an overview of the collection along with the materials pre-selected by the staff and Archivist. Students learn what an archive is and does, the types of objects and information found in archives, and about archival etiquette, such as wearing gloves when handling precious documents and books.

Examples of objects students may engage with include:

• 1950s sports bandana, which opens a discussion of the history of women in sport

• a photograph of a tunnel ball team from 1923, which presents an opportunity to talk about which sports girls were allowed to play, and the evolution and popularity of different sports

The 1924 Tunnel Ball team – Molly Pratten ready to throw and Dorothy Hill ready to catch.

• the Old Girls Association Honour Board located in the Annie Mackay Room. Familiarity with an object students might walk past every day enables them to contemplate the impact war years might have had on the School community

• a postcard dated 1906 sent from a pupil at the school to her friend ‘Edie’ in England describing ‘the Brains and Beauty of Brisbane’ and decorated with a drawing of her school badge. This makes history more meaningful to a 12-year-old student today

• an early Prize book from the Kennedy Cairncroft Collection of Prize Books. These books are of enormous value to the School, and what they represent is unique. Many students love the books as objects of beauty—taking time to investigate the leather covers, the print and the marbling on the end pages—while others are more interested in the name of the student, what the prize was awarded for, and the Head Mistress and Chair of the Board at the time. Examples of prize books include a leather writing compendium won in 1905 by the Junior Tennis champion, and a book called The Sea-shore, awarded in 1906 for Practical Botany, which still has pressed plants in it.

These objects come alive and have stories to tell.

Where objects are too fragile to handle, a digital resource can be created to replace the physical item. As an example, girls may look at the digital images of individual items, which have been ‘placed’ in a school port, to identify and evaluate them in a way that would be difficult to replicate in real life.

The teaching program is important for various reasons—it teaches students about their new school, but also helps them to understand the role and importance of Archives in a school.

References

A digital ‘port’ containing early School items – a postcard, an exercise book, a leather notebook and report card.

It is clear from the questions asked and the interest shown by these young students that they are fascinated by the existence of a student life and community long before them. Knowing that their own experiences and contributions matter and are important to future generations adds to their emotional connectedness to Girls Grammar.

As Kathleen Lyons, Acting Head Mistress, noted in her 1924 Annual Report, ‘The first six months of a child’s life in a big school such as ours are of primary importance…She must learn to be a living and active part of a great organisation’.

Certainly, by immersing students into our history, Year 7 girls have been given the baton to take on the Grammar story.

BGGS Magazine, June 1921, p. 4, Editorial. Brothman, B. ‘Perfect past, perfect gift’. Archival Science 2010, 10: 141-189. Corbett, K. (1991). From File Folder to the Classroom: Recent Primary Source Curriculum Projects. American Archivist 54: 296–300. Tate, WE.. The use of archives in education. The Journal of the British Records Association 1949. Retrieved from https://api.semanticscholar.org/ CorpusID:256188827

Australian Society of Archivists. (2024). School Archivist Role Description. Retrieved from https://www.archivists.org.au/documents/item/269

ELYSE GUNLUK (10O)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Raising Tomorrow: It takes a village to nurture young minds

Dr Jody Forbes, Associate Dean Wellbeing/School Psychologist

FRIDAY 6 SEPTEMBER 2024

One of my favourite events of the year is the Year 12 Valedictory Dinner. It is an opportunity for students, parents, and staff to share a meal and celebrate all that we have accomplished together. As students cross the stage, I find myself reflecting on their stories, remembering conversations and experiences with both students and their families. Similarly, I know that my colleagues, and of course our Year 12 parents, are also reflecting on their own stories, and the atmosphere reverberates with pride, relief and optimism.

It takes a village to raise a child, and Girls Grammar has been part of that community for many students. Educators, including teachers and support staff, have the privilege of sharing in the celebration, sadness, disappointment and joy experienced by our students and their families as they traverse adolescence. Growing an adult is hard work, and adolescents can be very canny. They can expect parents to rescue them, and are adept at splitting the alignment between home and school, especially when it involves discipline or disappointment. Thus, the notion that it takes a village to raise a child has never been more relevant than during adolescence.

A few years ago, during a workshop, Girls Grammar staff were asked two questions: ‘What do we want our students to be

when they are adults?’ and ‘Are we providing an education that helps students to become such adults?’. In recent years, we have posed the same questions to parents, and the responses from both groups have been almost identical. Words like ‘confident’, ‘successful’, ‘happy’, ‘thoughtful’, ‘strong’, ‘optimistic’ and ‘resilient’ are offered by both parents and educators, demonstrating a strong alignment. Thus, if the key to the success of a village is all members sharing a common purpose, then the Girls Grammar village is indeed successful, underpinned by our collective goal of raising girls to become young women who are ready to face the world beyond school.

The second question invites both educators and parents to reflect on how we can help our future Grammar Women develop the dispositions required for them to reach the aspirations we hold. We know that to receive strong academic results, a student must engage in her lessons, revise her work and persist when faced with complex questions. Here, the village works together to support her. Teachers provide encouragement and targeted feedback, while parents offer both practical and emotional support. Similarly, if we want students to become confident and resilient, then they must navigate challenges, make mistakes

and learn to bounce back. To become adults with integrity, students must be held to account when being disrespectful or dishonest, and learn to make amends. Just as students must wrestle with the academic rigour to improve their grades, so too must they face frustration, distress, confronting conversations, or bear disappointment if they are to become adults of good character. It is during such times that the strength of the village makes a significant difference.

Our village of educators and parents is fortified by the different relationships, perspectives and skills of our members. In challenging times, the community can support each other by providing a reassuring voice, some pearls of wisdom, or when needed, tag-teaming ‘good cop-bad cop’.

Understandably, parents can find it difficult to bear their child’s distress or disappointment. Yet we know sometimes that it is these very experiences that contribute the most to building character and resilience. Here, educators, who are less emotionally attached, can help both parents and students to navigate such challenges, while maintaining sight of the long-term goal of nurturing a confident and capable young woman. Educators strive to connect with their students and

seek to understand how each girl learns best. Here, parents can provide valuable insights regarding their daughter’s strengths, insecurities and motivations. Knowing whether a student had a wonderful weekend, or an awful one, helps educators to know whether it is the time to push or support. Thus, the magic of the Girls Grammar village is that we trust that each member is working toward a unified goal, and we maintain open and regular communication to help us reach that goal.

Every day, educators have the absolute privilege of witnessing students grow into the adults we aspire them to be. Whether it be overcoming the fear of public speaking, performing a solo at Interhouse Choir, or navigating the high-ropes course at Marrapatta, being witness to this is at the heart of why we have devoted our lives to educating adolescent girls. As such, each November, when the Year 12 cohort takes their final bow, you will find me, and other Girls Grammar staff, feeling as emotional, and as proud of our students as their parents. While bittersweet, we are confident in the knowledge that the community has done its job, and our Grammar girls are ready for their next village.

KIRSTEN ZHOU (9W)

Academic Middle Leaders—

who are they, what do they do, and why are they important?

Ms Susan Garson, Director of Cultures of Thinking

FRIDAY 13 SEPTEMBER 2024

Middle leadership is a term that has evolved from traditional notions of middle management within education and has gained prominence in the last ten years (De Nobile, 2018; Gurr et al., 2013; Bryant, 2019). This evolution is due to the increasingly complex and complicated nature of middle leadership roles.

Middle leading is described as ‘a relational practice of someone in a school with a positional title, with a teaching load’ (Grootenbooer, 2018 cited in Day & Grice, 2019, p. 10). These leaders occupy key linking positions (Harris & Jones, 2017) between senior leaders and teachers and are therefore, often considered to be ‘wedged between’ (Gregory Marshall, 2012, p. 503) the higher and lower levels of the school. In addition, these leaders have unique personal, relational, and professional capabilities (Duigan, 2006). Therefore, middle leaders assume broad responsibility and work as connectors between people and places where educational activities take place.

Academic middle leaders are specifically charged with meeting a school’s organisational, curricular, and pedagogical goals through their influence on teachers. These leaders are

‘uniquely placed to influence the quality of teaching and learning within their subject areas’ (Bennett et al., 2003, p. 131). They are commonly appointed to their roles based upon their ‘professional knowledge…including knowledge of curriculum, pedagogy, social and psychological processes, and organisational systems and policy processes’, but balance this with teaching their own classes (Busher, 2006, p. 43).

Academic middle leaders influence others, seek to unite people, empower them to participate and to act towards shared goals for educational improvement (Bush, 2008; Dinham, 2016; Montecinos et al., 2022; Robertson & Timperley, 2011). As a result, their work is intrinsically relational and situational, as they work closely with teachers who, in turn, prepare learning opportunities for students.

Academic middle leadership roles involve both managerial tasks, which are administrative and organisational, and leadership tasks, which are active, innovative and link to school strategy and staff development (Bryant, 2019; Crawford, 2012; De Nobile, 2018; Gurr et al., 2013). Managerial tasks are easy to identify and assist the day-to-day running of the school, faculty or teaching team. These tasks include devising routines, directives, overseeing budgets and resources,

keeping records, reporting deadlines, conducting class observations and overseeing professional review documentation (De Nobile, 2018). Greater expectation, however, continues to be placed on middle leaders to lead teachers. Leadership includes being ‘improvement-orientated’ and requires defining responsibilities for people, engaging them and developing their capacity (Bryant, 2019, p. 418-419). Academic middle leaders model and inspire innovative practice, which can be informed by curriculum developments, pedagogic preference, and site-specific school strategy. In so doing, these leaders assume huge responsibility and accountability in a school (Bryant, 2019). Pedagogical leadership has also become higher profile due to shifts in government reform in education (Day & Grice, 2019). Therefore, the nuanced nature of academic middle leadership extends well beyond procedural management tasks (Crawford, 2012).

Academic middle leaders navigate the complexities of their roles on the job and over time. This is significant, as these leaders continue to shape their identities and abilities to influence, as they grow and change over the course of their leadership journey. People with whom they work and events that transpire along the way can influence them greatly, potentially altering the way they think and act in the future (Busher et al., 2007; Sparrowe, 2005; Sun, 2016; Zheng et al., 2020). Interestingly, academic middle leaders do not receive any formal training from government or independent authorities in the Australian context. Training usually consists of small-scale external workshops or some early mentoring or coaching (Bryant & Walker, 2022). Thus, their capacity to be a ‘master craftsman’ (Jaeger & Pekruhl, 1998 cited in Gregory Marshall, 2012, p. 507) in areas such as teamwork, motivation of staff, leadership of curriculum and pedagogy, change management and strategic organisation, are often developed as they enact their roles in context (Gregory Marshall, 2012).

At BGGS, we have a unique academic middle leadership structure consisting of Directors of Faculty as well as Heads of Department/Subject. These leaders are central ‘cogs’ in the workings of the school. At BGGS, academic middle leaders are granted time, space, and flexibility to ‘engage with agentic and creative responses to policy and practice’ (Ainsworth et al., 2022, p. 1). This has been fundamental as we have adjusted to a new senior secondary system in Queensland. These leaders

have shown outstanding stewardship of curriculum, resource development and assessment linked to new syllabi, to set our students up for success. Directors and Heads of Department/ Subject are trusted by Senior Leadership as experts in their areas and have a great deal of autonomy to lead their teams. Academic middle leaders at BGGS also hold accountabilities to the Deputy Principal (Academic) to filter information up and down, and assist in setting pedagogical direction at a schoolwide level. They likewise report to the Dean of Studies to support the assessment practices and reporting of student achievement to parents and external authorities. Therefore, academic middle leaders occupy an essential level of leadership at the school.

Academic middle leaders at BGGS have great respect for one another and enjoy opportunities to collaborate. They meet regularly with their middle-level team, and with their senior leaders to discuss new initiatives, share expertise and review teaching and learning policy and practice. This support system is important. In recent years, they have been granted excellent opportunities for professional development as a group in the areas of strategic thinking, blended coaching and values-based leadership. Nonetheless, at the heart of effective academic middle leadership are the relationships these leaders build with their teaching teams. It is very much true that at BGGS, academic middle leadership work constitutes ‘professionalism underpinned by humanity’ (Dinham, 2016, p. 195). These relational aspects of middle leadership are highlighted as foundational in the development of teacher pedagogy as well as the achievement of institutional goals (Bush, 2008; Dinham, 2016; Wiliam, 2016).

Academic middle leadership at the School will continue to emerge as leadership is ‘a practice, not a role’ (Harris & Spillane, 2008 as cited in Jarvis, 2012, p. 481). It is vital that our academic middle leaders adapt to situational changes. These may involve the changing nature of our secondary school context to soon include a Junior School. Middle leaders’ personal qualities and leadership styles, as well as expertise pertaining to knowledge and skills in their discipline areas, will continue to evolve (Robinson, 2011). Consequently, middle leadership is complex, multifaceted, but increasingly important as these leaders support teachers to influence the quality education of our girls.

CAITLIN TRAPPETT (11O)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

References

Ainsworth, S., Costa, M. d., Davies, C., & Hammersley-Fletcher, L. (2022). New perspectives on middle leadership in schools in England – Persistent tensions and emerging possibilities. Educational Management Administration & Leadership. https://doi.org/10.1177/17411432221086847

Bennett, N., Crawford, M., & Cartwright, M. (Eds.). (2003). Effective Educational Leadership. Paul Chapman Publishing.

Bryant, D. (2019). Conditions that support middle leaders’ work in organizational and system leadership: Hong Kong case studies. School Leadership & Management. Vol. 39 (5): 415-433.

Bryant, D. A., & Walker, A. (2022). Principal-designed structures that enhance middle leaders’ professional learning. Educational Management Administration & Leadership. https://doi.org/10.1177/17411432221084154

Bush, T. (2008). Leadership and Management Development in Education. SAGE.

Busher, H. (2006). Understanding Educational Leadership: people, power and culture. Open University Press.

Busher, H., Hammersley-Fletcher, L., & Turner, C. (2007). Making sense of middle leadership: community, power and practice. School Leadership & Management, 27(5), 405-422. https://doi.org/10.1080/13632430701606061

Crawford, M. (2012). Solo and Distributed Leadership: Definitions and Dilemmas. Educational Management Administration & Leadership. Vol. 40 (5): 610-620.

Day, C., & Grice, C. (2019). Investigating the influence and impact of leading from the middle: a school-based strategy for middle leaders in schools. University of Sydney.

De Nobile, J. (2018). Towards a theoretical model of middle leadership in schools. School Leadership & Management, 38(4), 395-416. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 13632434.2017.1411902

Dinham, S. (2016). Leading Learning and Teaching. ACER Press.

Duigan, P. (2006). Educational Leadership: key challenges and ethical tensions. Cambridge University Press.

Gregory Marshall, S. (2012). Educational middle change leadership in New Zealand: the meat in the sandwich. International Journal of Educational Management, 26(6), 502-528. https://doi.org/10.1108/09513541211251361

Gurr, D., Jacobson, S., & Drysdale, L. (2013). Middle‐level secondary school leaders. Journal of Educational Administration, 51(1), 55-71. https://doi. org/10.1108/09578231311291431

Harris, A., & Jones, M. (2017). Middle leaders matter: reflections, recognition, and renaissance. School Leadership & Management, 37(3), 213-216. https://doi. org/10.1080/13632434.2017.1323398

Jarvis, A. (2012). The Necessity for Collegiality: Power, Authority and Influence in the Middle. Educational Management Administration & Leadership, 40(4), 480-493. https://doi.org/10.1177/1741143212438223

Montecinos, C., Cortez, M., Zoro, B., & Zett, I. (2022). Senior leaders’ theories of action for managing subject departments as a school improvement strategy. Educational Management Administration & Leadership. https://doi.org/10.1177/17411432221089200

Roberston, J., & Timperley, H. (Eds.). (2011). Leadership and Learning. SAGE.

Robinson, V. (2011). Student-Centred Leadership. Jossey-Bass. Sparrowe, R. T. (2005). Authentic leadership and the narrative self. The Leadership Quarterly, 16(3), 419-439. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.leaqua.2005.03.004 Sun, P. (2016). Discourse and Identity: leader identity at work. In John Storey, Jean Hartley, Jean-Louis Denis, Paul 't Hart, & D. Ulrich (Eds.), The Routledge Companion to Leadership (1st ed., pp. 581-594). Routledge. Wiliam, D. (2016). Leadership for Teacher Learning: practical techniques for K-12 classrooms. Learning Sciences International. Zheng, W., Meister, A., & Barker Caza, B. (2020). The stories that make us: Leaders' origin stories and temporal identity work. In SAGE Human Relations (pp. 1-33). SAGE. https://doi.org/DOI: 10.1177/0018726720909864

The Courage to Unlearn

Dr Sam Peng, Head of Economics

FRIDAY 4 OCTOBER 2024

A Reflection on Economics Education in a Changing World

Economics is like a kaleidoscope, reflecting varied ‘colours and patterns’ with every change in environmental, demographic, technological, and political landscapes. The Australian economy offers a vivid example in recent years. From the onset of COVID-19, Australia has experienced the first recession in over three decades, the first deflation in 26 years, the recordlow interest rates, followed by the highest inflation since 1990, the sharpest interest rate hikes, and the longest per-capita income recession, all amidst a prolonged cost-of-living crisis (RBA, 2024). With each turn in the economic fluctuations, our students are invited to rethink existing economic models and policies.

So as a parting message for the class of 2024, I wish our students ‘the courage to unlearn’, as the world is undergoing some profound changes. The famous Chinese saying, ‘Tao ke Tao, fei Chang tao’ (道可道, 非常道) from Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching—translating to ‘The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao’ (Feng & English, 1989)—encapsulates the ever-evolving nature of knowledge. This is especially true in economics, where traditional theories and systems are being constantly challenged. As new paradigms emerge, the courage to unlearn, adapt, and embrace these changes is not only a necessity, but also a critical skill for economists.

Climate change and economic growth

For decades, economic activities and policies have been centred on achieving growth, often measured by GDP increase. Historically, this has been supported by empirical studies that link income growth to higher standard of living and happiness (Deaton, 2008; Stevenson & Wolfers, 2008). However, it fails to account for the environmental cost of economic growth. As humans strive for better material living standards, climate change is taking a heavy toll on the economy by reducing productivity, increasing infrastructure costs, and causing significant losses in agriculture and property sectors (Climate Council, 2019).

Extreme weather and climate events have resulted in supply shocks that reduce output, cause unemployment and increase inflation. In Australia, weather-related disasters caused more than $35 billion in damages in the past decade, which is more than double the cost of environmental damages in the 1970s (Climate Council, 2022). Furthermore, climate change threatens financial stability as it reduces the value of certain assets and income streams; it also exposes financial institutions to sudden or unexpected changes in regulations, technology or consumer preferences (Kurian, Reid and Sutton, 2023). Finally, climate

change affects people’s health and wellbeing, and increases the risk of pandemics (Climate Council, 2019, 2023; Anikeeva, et al., 2024). This reduces productivity and strains healthcare services. The impacts of weather and climate are, therefore, significant.

As Kate Raworth (2017) argues, ‘Today we have economies that need to grow, whether or not they make us thrive; what we need are economies that make us thrive, whether or not they grow.’

Limitless growth is unsustainable in the face of environmental degradation and social inequality. It takes courage to unlearn the old obsession with GDP growth, and instead focus on creating economies that support human wellbeing while respecting ecological limits.

Demographic shifts and deglobalisation

Globalisation has driven unprecedented economic growth and lifted hundreds of millions out of poverty over the past decades (WTO, 2023). However, it is unravelling due to the rising protectionism and regionalism.

This trend, according to Peter Zeihan (2022), was largely driven by demographic changes. The post-World War II global order, characterised by free trade and economic interdependence, was underpinned by favourable demographic trends: an abundance of young workers and expanding markets (Zeihan, 2022).

Now with many countries facing demographic declines due to aging populations and falling birth rates, the order cannot be sustained. Demographic declines are leading to a retraction from globalisation as countries focus on domestic challenges like labour shortages, declining productivity, and the strain on social safety nets (Zeihan, 2022). In short, many countries are becoming more insular and withdrawing from free trade.

To navigate these changes, future policymakers must rethink assumptions about free trade and labour markets and adopt a more nuanced understanding of demographic and geopolitical shifts. For Australia to forge competitive advantages as a trading

nation, the role of industry policies needs to be reconsidered. As Danielle Wood, the chair of Productivity Commission explained, ‘industry policies can work if we carefully weigh the risks’ (2024, Sep 12).

AI and inequality

Economics studies human choices. Yet AI is making more and more decisions for us in ways that are becoming more unfathomable and less transparent (Harari, 2024). Algorithms ‘increasingly have a hand in deciding whether to offer us a place at college, give us a job, provide us with welfare benefits or grant us a loan … what kind of medical treatment we receive, what insurance premiums we pay, what news we hear and who would ask us on a date”. (Harari, 2024, p. 331). This, of course, raises concerns about equity and efficiency in resource allocation.

In addition, AI presents one of the most significant challenges for modern economics, as it has the potential to upend traditional power structures and create new forms of inequality (Harari, 2024). The vast amounts of data collected and processed by AI systems concentrate power in the hands of a few, potentially leading to new forms of economic and social stratification (Harari, 2024). At the same time, AI’s ability to automate tasks poses a threat to jobs across many industries. As AI displaces human workers, economists must rethink traditional labour market models and consider new ways of distributing wealth. In this process, the courage to unlearn is vital.

In a world undergoing dramatic changes, the courage to unlearn is essential for economists. Whether dealing with the rise of AI, demographic changes, or the need for sustainable economic models, the ability to let go of outdated ideas and embrace new paradigms is critical. As Lao Tzu’s saying reminds us, knowledge is not static, and nor should our approach to economics be. The willingness to unlearn and adapt will define the future of economic thinking and policy.

References

Anikeeva, O., Stanhope, J., Bi, P. and Weinstein, P. (2024). Why are we seeing more pandemics? Our impact on the planet has a lot to do with it. https:// theconversation.com/why-are-we-seeing-more-pandemics-our-impact-on-the-planet-has-a-lot-to-do-with-it-226827

Ariely, D. (2008). Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions. HarperCollins.

Climate Council. (2019). Compound costs: How climate change is damaging Australia’ economy. https://www.climatecouncil.org.au/wp-content/ uploads/2019/05/Costs-of-climate-change-report.pdf

Climate Council. (2022). The great deluge: Australia’s new era of unnatural disasters. https://www.climatecouncil.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ CC_MVSA0330-CC-Report-The-Great-Deluge_V7-FA-Screen-Single.pdf

Climate Council. (2023). Climate Trauma: The growing toll of climate change on the mental health of Australians. https://www.climatecouncil.org.au/ wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Report-Climate-Change-and-Mental-Health.pdf

Deaton, A. (2008). Income, health, and well-being around the world: Evidence from the Gallup World Poll. Journal of Economic Perspectives 22(2), pp. 53-72. Feng, G. & English, J. (trans.). (1989). Lao Tsu: Tao Te Ching. New York: Vintage Books.

Harari, Y. N. (2024). Nexus: A brief history of information networks from the stone age to AI. Fern Press.

Kurian, S., Reid, G. and Sutton, M. (2023). Climate change and financial risk. https://www.rba.gov.au/publications/bulletin/2023/jun/climate-change-andfinancial-risk.html

Raworth, K. (2017). Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist. Random House. RBA. (2024). Chart Pack: Graphs on the Australian Economy and Financial Markets. https://www.rba.gov.au/chart-pack/ Steveson, B. & Wolfers, J. (2008). Economic growth and happiness: Reassessing the Easterlin paradox. Brookings Papers on Economic Activity. Spring 2008, pp.1-87.

Wood, D. (2024, Sep 12). Industry policies can work if we carefully weigh the risks. Australian Financial Review. WTO. (2023). World Trade Report 2023 — Re-globalization for a secure, inclusive and sustainable future. https://www.wto.org/english/res_e/booksp_e/ wtr23_e/wtr23_e.pdf

Zeihan, P. (2022). The end of the world is just the beginning: Mapping the collapse of globalisation. Harper Business.

POPPY MCGUIRE (10E)

Confidence through Familiarity

Mrs Alice Dabelstein, Head of Hirschfeld House

FRIDAY 11 OCTOBER 2024

Welcoming the 150th cohort to Brisbane Girls Grammar School this week has been a much-anticipated highlight. The House Afternoon Teas on Tuesday and Thursday allowed us to officially embrace the 2025 Year 7 students and their families into our community. A warm and friendly atmosphere was created where each girl was supported in forming initial connections with their peers and teachers. The Year 12 Buddies coordinated fun ‘getting to know you’ activities and proudly escorted the girls on a tour of the Spring Hill campus. We hope that our incoming students feel a sense of belonging, not only as a Grammar girl but also as a member of their House.

We know that commencing secondary school is an important life milestone. For many, this excitement can be coupled with much anxiety and uncertainty. The size of the school, unfamiliar routines, and the prospect of new social dynamics can feel overwhelming. Much thought and planning is dedicated to designing opportunities to alleviate some of this anxiety and the fear of the unknown. Simply walking through a quiet campus during the afternoon and providing opportunities to ask questions from their Year 12 Buddies can make the environment feel more familiar and manageable.

A crucial benefit of the Afternoon Teas is the opportunity for students to meet their House classmates in a more intimate environment. The number one priority when starting at a new school, for most adolescent girls, is making new friends. Many of our girls are transitioning from smaller primary schools where

they have been in a familiar and close-knit environment. Thus, we understand the importance of these early connections. Meeting peers before the commencement of the formal school year allows students to start developing friendships and social networks, which are vital for their sense of belonging and emotional well-being. We further foster this sense of belonging while the students are in their final year of primary school, with activities such as the Head of House enrolment interview and an array of co-curricular opportunities. These initial interactions can make the first day and the first few weeks of school much less intimidating, and create a more inclusive atmosphere from the outset.

Confidence is key to successfully navigating the transition to secondary school and our orientation events play a significant role in boosting it. This lift in confidence extends well beyond practical knowledge of the school’s layout; it also comes from knowing they’ve already made some connections and there are familiar staff and peers ready to support them.

The thrill and anticipation of the School's 150th anniversary next year is truly tangible. Students, staff, and alumnae eagerly await a momentous occasion that honours the rich history and bright future of our School. This milestone is shared with the significant transition for our 2025 Year 7 cohort. We hope that these girls feel valued and ready to engage in our community. For them, and for all in our community, 2025 will be a year of unforgettable memories, uniting us in pride, joy, and shared achievements for generations to come.

EVIE KOLFF VAN OOSTERWIJK (12M)

Feeling the Squeeze: The Productivity Paradox

Ms Elaine Serisier, Dean of Academics FRIDAY 18 OCTOBER 2024

As the end of the year approaches, I find myself reflecting on the experiences of our Year 12 girls. Their climactic year of schooling brings with it a host of inevitable challenges, and I’ve noticed that many girls grapple with a nagging sense that they’re not doing ‘enough’. They lament nights lost to procrastination, regret weekends that slipped away unproductively, and feel guilty for indulging in that extra Netflix episode. With external exams looming—a milestone they perceive as pivotal to their futures— each moment becomes something precious they should be squeezing for its maximum value. Productive days are revered trophies, while idle hours play on their conscience.

Lately, I’ve been wondering about the origins of this relentless pressure to optimise every waking hour. This mindset isn’t unique to our Year 12 girls; I often catch myself internalising the same pressure to ‘make the most’ of my time. It seems symptomatic of a broader societal condition: the glorification of hyperproductivity. Somewhere along the line, we collectively bought into the notion that our lives—ourselves, even—are ongoing projects requiring endless refinement and improvement. If we’re not constantly moving towards ‘better’ and ‘more’, it can feel as though we’re wasting our potential; falling behind in a never-ending race we didn’t even realise we’d entered. And it’s exhausting.

Perhaps this obsession with output began in the industrial era, when progress was defined by efficiency and productivity. But in today’s world, it has seeped into our personal lives. With the rise

of technology and social media, we are constantly bombarded with reminders of how we should be squeezing every drop out of our lives. There are apps to track our productivity, self-help books promising to unlock our potential, influencers sharing their meticulously planned days, and endless advice on how we should be optimising every aspect of our lives—from morning routines to sleep schedules. While there’s undoubtedly something to be said for self-improvement, one can’t help but wonder: at what point have we squeezed ourselves dry?

Perhaps most unsettling is how this need for productivity has infiltrated even our downtime. Rest is no longer a guilt-free escape—it’s something to be planned and optimised, too. Social media, in particular, has made downtime hyperproductivity a status symbol; you only need to scroll through a few posts to see perfectly scheduled ‘selfcare’ days that seem like just another kind of achievement, another way to perform. Pilates at 5 am followed by a homemade acai bowl and hours of work developing content for a side hustle… all before 9 am!

At this point, being idle seems like a personal failure. No longer is it enough to just be—it’s as though we must always be becoming.

For the Year 12 girls, this pressure to always be ‘on’ can feel especially intense. The looming end of school, external exams, and the sense that this is the year that really matters can make it feel as though there’s no room for missteps. But I wonder if this constant push for productivity really leads us away from feeling fulfilled.

Paradoxically, it seems as though the more we focus on maximising our time, the less time we have to simply live. We can optimise every hour, tick off every task, and still feel unfulfilled. Maybe there’s more value in those unstructured, unscripted, ‘unproductive’ moments than we’re led to believe.

In many ways, schools are uniquely positioned to combat the pressures of this hyperproductive society on students. It’s not necessarily about working less, but about learning when to step back and allow ourselves to rest without guilt. House Group, Morning Tea and Lunch are simple ways we encourage our girls to take a pause, with no expectation to be ‘doing’ anything stereotypically productive. Similarly, events such as Blue Days, Galentine’s Day and House events bring carefree moments of joy and fun, and I love seeing the girls throw themselves wholeheartedly into the celebrations.

In a world where busyness is worn like a badge of honour, these moments of reprieve are even more crucial. The school environment, with its structure and space for reflection, can equip students with the mindset needed to navigate a world obsessed with productivity.

As the end of the year approaches, I hope the girls give themselves permission to take a breath. Yes, there’s tremendous value in working hard and striving for excellence, but there’s also value in learning to be at peace with doing nothing, to stop feeling guilty for simply being. In the end, life isn’t purely about output—it’s also about finding meaning and balance in the spaces in between.

ANGEL SU (9H)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

So much more than ‘just’ a holiday

Miss Tennille Cummings,

Dean of Operations FRIDAY 25 OCTOBER 2024

‘The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page’

—Saint Augustine

Often, a particular activity, smell, or sound can trigger a vivid recollection of a memory—transporting you to a past time, place, or person. These moments tend to sneak up on you, often igniting a wave of nostalgia that reminds you of past experiences.

At the beginning of each term, I like to ask my class about their holidays. The responses I receive are always varied: some share stories of cooking new recipes or enjoying a movie with friends, while others recount their travels across Australia or overseas.

Hearing these travel stories stirs my own wonderful travel memories. I recall past trips—some taken during my own student years, others shared with students as part of school travel trips, and many more enjoyed with family and friends. Each memory, vivid and colourful, reignites a spark of happiness within me and I find myself planning my next adventure. Travel has a way of getting under your skin, encouraging you to seek out new experiences. Each adventure, whether small or large, leaves its mark. It doesn’t just create memories; it changes us.

At Girls Grammar, we believe in the power of travel to inspire and transform. We offer students a wide range of opportunities to explore, both at home and beyond. Whether visiting the

ancient ruins of Italy, the bustling streets of Japan, or the vast landscapes of Australia’s Northern Territory, our students experience the world in ways that extend far beyond the tourist lens. These trips offer more than just new sights—they foster personal growth, helping students gain a deeper understanding of the world and their place within it.

Travel teaches us to embrace the unfamiliar. It pushes us out of our comfort zones and challenges us to adapt to new surroundings and cultures. Whether navigating a foreign language or figuring out public transportation in a new city, these moments mirror the challenges students face in the classroom. A new or difficult subject, a group project, or a long-term assignment—each requires resilience, critical thinking, and problem-solving. What travel offers is a realworld stage to practise these skills, giving our students the confidence to apply them here at school.

Through travel, students develop qualities essential for school and life: independence, adaptability, and empathy. They learn to navigate uncertainty, becoming more comfortable with the unknown. These experiences don’t just shape who they are as travellers—they shape who they become as learners, leaders, and global citizens. I’ve seen students return from trips with a

newfound confidence, more willing to tackle the challenges they face in their studies, and more thoughtful in their approach to teamwork and problem-solving. The growth they experience abroad translates directly into the way they engage with their academic and personal lives.

The lessons of travel go deeper still. In a world that’s becoming increasingly interconnected, the ability to understand different cultures and perspectives is more important than ever. Research tells us that creativity flourishes in new environments. When we step away from the familiar, our minds are sparked by the novelty of the world around us. The sights, sounds, and interactions we encounter while travelling stimulate our minds, often leading to new ideas and fresh perspectives. Our students return from these trips with a heightened sense of empathy and global awareness, skills that will serve them not just in school but in their future careers and personal lives. They see the world through a broader lens, one that challenges them to think critically about the issues they encounter in both their studies and in life.

Ultimately, travel is about growth. It’s about discovering the world, but it’s also about discovering ourselves. Each journey adds a new layer to our understanding of who we are and what we are capable of. The memories we create while travelling don’t just stay in the past; they continue to shape how we view the world and how we approach the challenges of the future. As our students share their travel stories and we reflect on our own adventures, we are reminded of the invaluable lessons travel teaches us: resilience; adaptability; creativity; and connection. These lessons inspire us to seek out new experiences, to learn, and to grow.

At Girls Grammar, we celebrate these moments of discovery. We know that each adventure helps shape our students into resilient, adaptable individuals ready to face the world with confidence. As Saint Augustine wisely noted, the world is a book, and each adventure is a new chapter that beckons us to explore, learn, and enrich our lives in ways that resonate far beyond the pages of our own personal stories.

LUCY BONGERS (10L)

Cherishing Nuance

Ms Abby Hills, Humanities Teacher FRIDAY 1 NOVEMBER 2024

‘It was neither true nor false, but what was experienced’

—Andre Malraux

I recently came across the above quote whilst flicking through a book by late American photographer Lewis Koch. Koch was known for playfully exploring the revelatory power of juxtaposed images and words to elicit curiosity and wonder, to craft narratives and new ways of seeing. I’ve been pondering his choice of this phrase a lot lately. Taken originally from the 1932 novel La Condition Humaine by French writer Andre Malraux, it quite poignantly captures the subjectivity and complexity of the human experience. Specifically, for me, it has brought sharply into focus, the importance and challenges of truth-telling in the History classroom—the opportunities afforded therein and benefits beyond—for our students.

We live in siloed times, with ever-increasing polarisation and hyper-partisan attitudes and beliefs, as social media algorithms insidiously push content tailored to users’ identified interests. This reinforcement of preexisting views, and the artificial imposition of others, stifles exposure to diverse perspectives and heightens the resistance to, and dismissal of, inconvenient truths. With post-millennials, in particular, consuming ‘news’ this way, it is even more beholden upon us as educators to equip our students not only with the tools to discerningly navigate this space, but with the emotional maturity and wisdom to be open-minded to difference. To seek to understand and connect, rather than retreat from or reactively judge.

Current affairs have never seemed more fertile soil than at this point in my time as a history teacher. More than ever, I feel I am perpetually referring to the news to offer examples and draw parallels; the present mirroring the past—history happening in real-time. From the long-term impacts of colonisation to populism, echoes of the Cold War and crises in the Middle East, we are in familiar intractable territory where, as recently cautioned by American Ambassador Denis Ross, ‘parallel societies [are] consumed by their trauma, their own pain, and incapable of seeing that of others’ (2024).

But, in the History classroom our engagement with, and understanding of history is not static, and as Alison Dare (2024) argues, history by its very nature ‘is not binary…The reality is that all history was and is contested space’. There is not one truth, no one right response. We must, and indeed have an obligation to give a voice to varied perspectives and experiences. The History classroom then, asks us to sit with the discomfort, to come to appreciate nuance. But, this absence of certainty often challenges the thinking of our students, who can be more inclined to the security of absolutes. Naturally, it can also be difficult to engage with unfamiliar and confronting historical truths. However, as former Minister for Indigenous Australians, Linda Burney explains ’it’s hard for us to know about, it’s hard to read, it’s hard to look at, but if we don’t look at the past, we can’t craft the future‘ (2021).

Professor Emeritus at Stanford University, Sam Weinburg, renowned for his pioneering work in history education and the study of historical thinking argues, that ‘coming to know others, whether they live on the other side of the tracks, or millennium, requires the education of our sensibilities’ (1999). In other words, working through sometimes difficult positions as we come to know and understand each other, fosters a greater self-awareness. Weinburg argues that Humanities as a discipline, is meant to ‘spurn sloganeering, tolerate complexity, and cherish nuance’ (1999) and as such, when taught well, its value lies in its capacity to ‘humanise us in ways offered by few other areas in the school curriculum’ (1999). Wineburg’s claims regarding the purpose and potential

of Humanities—though hardly new—are, I feel, timely. He stirringly articulates the critical thinking skills and empathy I sincerely hope my Modern History students are guided by when they navigate their futures and engage with the world beyond our gates. As asserted by Dr Bruce Addison (2024), genuine dialogue informed by compassion, tolerance, and understanding can take us to ’deeply human spaces‘, where intractability and bluster can give way to humility and meaningful connections. Thus, like the way Koch arranged seemingly disparate texts and images, giving prominence to ‘what was experienced’ from varied perspectives can illicit curiosity and wonder, and craft new narratives. The collective experience reflective of a greater, more representative truth.

References

Addison, B. (2024). Dialogue as the distiller of fundamentals. Deputy Principal-Academic Crabb, A. (Presenter). (2021). Ms Represented with Annabel Crabb: Episode 1 Getting There. Australian Broadcasting Corporation. ClickView. https://www. clickview.net/secondary/videos/42575711/ms-represented-with-annabel-crabb-season-01-episode-01-getting-there

Dare, A. (2024). Are we there yet? Director of Humanities

Koch, L. (2009). Touchless automatic wonder: Found text photographs from the real world. Borderland Books. Morrow, J. (Presenter). (2024, October 6). The inside story of the fight for Middle East peace [Radio broadcast episode]. ABC Radio National. https://www. abc.net.au/listen/programs/sundayextra/the-inside-story-of-the-fight-for-middle-east-peace/104433072 Wineburg, S. (1999). Historical thinking and other unnatural acts. The Phi Delta Kappan, 80(7), 488–499. https://www.jstor.org/stable/20439490

AUDREY SLOMKA (12E)

BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

For Good

Mr Michael McGrath, Head of Curriculum Music FRIDAY

8 NOVEMBER 2024

Wicked—a wonderful musical based on the novel by Gregory Maguire, which I recently saw at QPAC—challenges the traditional good-evil paradigm, casting the Witch of the West as a courageous protagonist who stands up for what is right and good. The final song in the show, For Good, details the way that Glinda the ‘good’ witch and Elphaba the ‘wicked’ witch, ‘have completely changed each other’s lives… For Good’(NPR Music, 2023). This prompted me to consider the role that goodness play in the girls’ music learning at the School.

On the same day I saw Wicked, I learned the sad news that a wonderful music educator, Thomas Regelski, had passed away. His writings and philosophical approach to musical education have profoundly shaped how we approach music learning at Girls Grammar, echoing themes connected to the idea of goodness. Regelski believed that musical learning should involve ‘personal action with music,’ arguing that we make music ‘for personal agency,’ which he described as ‘an important means by which humans make a life worth living’ (Regelski, 2020, pp. 30–31). Through his work, Regelski certainly did much good, enriching not only his own life but also the lives of countless learner-musicians.

What do we truly mean by the word ’good‘? This term, with its long history, has arguably become overused and devalued, often signifying something merely acceptable or sufficient. This might be considered evident through the application of the term in Likert scales relating to quality—for example, a 5-point scale might read Poor-Fair-Good-Very Good-Excellent (Vagias, 2006). In contrast, its sibling, ‘goodness,’ seems to have retained its dignity, defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as ‘the quality of being morally good; virtue;

worthiness’. This definition carrying a more powerful meaning.

Through the looking glass

Marissa Silverman (2023), a music education researcher at Montclair State University wrote a powerful article exploring how we might reclaim happiness in music education. She argues that ‘fulfillment and flourishing’—eudaimonia— happiness—is a way to ‘live a good life… of meaningfulness and significance’. So, when she talks about happiness, Silverman, means ‘relational meaningfulness’. Silverman argues by collectively striving for individual emancipation, solidarity and agency, we might also afford greater opportunity for personal expression to all, for students to feel empowered and to achieve ‘collective happiness …and foster a common good’(Silverman, 2023).

At Girls Grammar, we pride ourselves on a learning environment that embraces the richness of the real. An essay, why not a podcast? A music performance in class time, why not a soiree in Gehrmann Theatre? Why not collaborate with classmates and industry professionals from QUT to produce a fully realised popular song? Such experiences more closely align with real-world experiences providing learning opportunities that are far richer than simply pressing ‘SAVE’ on a computer after the final stroke of a key!

A good news story

As we approach the end of the year, let’s reflect on the good we have accomplished at Girls Grammar! Rather than solely

considering how authentic learning helps students become better musicians or learners, let’s explore the good we’ve achieved in Music—the ways that we’ve fostered happiness, eudaimonia, fulfillment and flourishing through a combination of personal agency and meaningful human connection. Let’s take a look under the hood of the Grammar Music Curriculum and examine the goodness in three projects.

Our youngest musicians in Year 7 step into a studio-style environment, working collaboratively to create unique group arrangements using popular and folk songs from both class and their own musical experiences. Guided by a backing track, students collaborate, arrange, and record their music with the assistance of a sound engineer, mirroring the process professional musicians experience in a recording studio. Encouraging teamwork, creativity, and real-world learning, this project builds confidence while developing practical musical skills. It allows students to connect their personal musical tastes with collaborative learning. It offers a meaningful glimpse into the professional music world, teaching the student the value of their efforts and fostering a sense of purpose and joy in their learning.

Year 9 musicians embrace possibility thinking as they dive into the world of musical theatre. They select the repertoire of their choice to perform as an ensemble at a showcase for the community. Through workshops with industry professionals, they pose questions, experiment with ideas, and immerse themselves in vocal training, stage presence, and choreography. They also take ownership of all aspects of production—sourcing costumes, designing sets, and

coordinating the show. This hands-on process nurtures self-determination, with students making independent decisions while contributing to a shared vision. Their collaboration fosters empathy, creativity, and personal storytelling, culminating in a live performance that connects music, physical movement and visuals with narrative.

This year, our Year 12 musicians reinterpreted the Frank Baum classic, The Wizard of Oz, by creating their own original compositions inspired by the narrative. Collaborating closely with professional musicians from NONSEMBLE and artist Suzie Ferry, they aligned their music with visual art to tell the story through an immersive, multi-sensory production. This empowered the students to be expressive and challenged them to consider the broader impact of their artistic choices, aural and visual, on the audience. This work resulted in a fully-fledged production titled Beyond the Yellow Brick Road in the Gehrmann Theatre. The project balanced personal expression with collective vision to foster a common good!

We’re not done yet!

In the coming weeks our Year 10 musicians will travel through the stars as they perform their original compositions with video footage of the heavens in INFINITE—an immersive experience at the Cosmic Skydome at the Sir Thomas Brisbane Planetarium. Our Year 9 artists and musicians combine forces to create a powerful multi-level audio-visual storytelling installation across Levels 3 and 4 of the CLC featuring artwork inspired by our local landscape and original songs in Sights, Sounds, Stories

References

NPR Music (2023). Wicked: Tiny Desk Concert. [online] YouTube. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFgWCQZDoCI [Accessed 1 Nov. 2024].

Regelski, Thomas A. 2020. Tractate on critical theory and praxis: Implications for professionalizing music education. Action, Criticism, and Theory for Music Education 19 (1): 6–53. https://doi.org/10.22176/act19.1.6

Silverman, M. (2023). Reclaiming “happiness”: Music education, meaningfulness, and collective flourishing. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 24(si2.1). Retrieved from http://doi.org/10.26209/ijea24si2.1

Vagias, W. (2006). Sample Likert Scales // Division of Student Affairs // Marquette University. [online] www.marquette.edu. Available at: https://www. marquette.edu/student-affairs/assessment-likert-scales.php [Accessed 1 Nov. 2024].

ANNABELLE YU (7G)

Certainty is overrated

Ms Louise Walls, Director of Tertiary Pathways FRIDAY

15 NOVEMBER 2024

‘Career uncertainty is normal and healthy.’

This is an oft-spoken line in my profession as a careers counsellor, and while I too say it, and say it with confidence, I wonder how truly helpful it is to my audience of young people when, particularly as they approach their final year of schooling, adults around them fire the question: ‘What do you want to do when you leave school?’ It’s a question that most young people dislike, some hate and others dread (Booth, 2019). The question raises confusion, fear and anxiety for the young person as it is not generally perceived as a ‘what’s next’ question, rather a more daunting equivalent: ‘What are they going to do with the rest of their life—as a career?’.

Many parents would agree with the premise that career uncertainty is normal, but the reality is that they want their child to have certainty and predictability. Their child probably wants that stability too, and perhaps because of that desire for certainty in the face of relentless questions about the future from those in their orbit, they become anxious. However, if breakthroughs in neuroscience have taught us anything, it’s that the developing adolescent brain isn’t so good at making high-stakes decisions. What’s more, a constant, stable idea of what they want to do is markedly less common than ideas that change often and quickly (Booth, 2019). Neuroscience tells us that a teenager spends 90 per cent of the time using the limbic system—the emotional engine room. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for important executive functions like planning ahead, recognising what information is relevant, making decisions,

and remembering details, doesn’t develop completely until early adulthood (18 to 25 years) and possibly into later adulthood (mid-20s onwards) (Booth, 2019). The situation for school leavers is made more complex by other contextual factors beyond students’ control. The current economic and labour market context is made up of precarious employment markets, the rise of the gig economy or short-term contractual employment, inflationary pressures, and rising costs of tertiary education, to name a few. Add this current context to what neuroscience teaches us about adolescents’ emotional brains, and it’s understandable that many start to feel apprehensive about the future.

The pressure on young people to make the ‘right’ decision is palpable. As organisational psychologist and co-author of The Chaos Theory of Careers: A New Perspective on Working in the Twenty-First Century (2011), Jim Bright, said: ‘People create jails for themselves by obsessing with certainty.’ Yet certainty is illusory. It doesn’t account for the realities of an authentic life—personal growth, change and chance events. In moving from a rigid mindset of control (certainty) to controlled flexibility, we will be better placed to deal with what’s possible now and work out our next move, step by step. Curiosity and exploration are key, alongside a commitment to being open to and embracing opportunities as they emerge.

My dilemma as a careers counsellor in a secondary school setting, preparing young women to transition to the next step in their career journey, is not dissimilar to the paradox

insightfully identified by Mrs Kristine Cooke in her reflection on libraries and chaos (Chaos Theory, 2019). Alongside the more traditional view of what librarians do—providing quiet effective spaces to work—Mrs Cooke acknowledged her responsibility to transport ‘students beyond the known, the safe and the expected’. While adults, of course, wish to ease a student’s discomfort around decision-making, we too want to challenge them to take risks, to step bravely and boldly into an exciting, unknown future.

If we can make a shift from what might almost be regarded as a preoccupation with certainty and predictability, to a focus on openness and living with emergence, not only will anxiety be minimised, but enriching opportunities are more likely to appear. If we—teachers, counsellors, parents—can encourage our young people to see that no single decision is necessarily ‘right’, they may feel better placed to make the best possible decision they can for now and move, with trust and purpose, to the next step.

References

Booth, R., (2019). The Neuroscience of Teenage Career Decision Making, CDAA Conference 2022 https://www.cdaa.org.au/ Bright, J. & Pryor, R. (2011). The Chaos Theory of Careers: A New Perspective on Working in the Twenty-First Century. New York: Routledge. Cooke, K. (2019). Chaos Theory. From the Archive: The Insights Collection. https://www.bggs.qld.edu.au/news/from-the-archive-the-insights-collection/ chaos-theory/

GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL

GREGORY TERRACE, BRISBANE QUEENSLAND 4000 AUSTRALIA

BRISBANE