STEM magazine 2011

Introduction to STEM!.................................................................5 Artwork!.........................................................................................6 Cover artworks!......................................................................................................6 Knowledge is Power!............................................................................................14 Vintage Technology!............................................................................................15

Commentary!..............................................................................17 The youth will be flying!......................................................................................17 San Francisco!......................................................................................................37 A Tibetan story!...................................................................................................38 Refugee!................................................................................................................39

Lifestyle!......................................................................................48 Mockingjay!..........................................................................................................48 How to Play 500!..................................................................................................49 Bugs and All!........................................................................................................51 Rubik’s Cube Tutorial!.........................................................................................54 Rubik’s Cube Timed!...........................................................................................55 Easy Chocolate Caramel Slice!............................................................................56 Butter Chicken Recipe!........................................................................................57 Chocolate cake in a mug!.....................................................................................59

Literature!....................................................................................67 Five Stages of Grief!............................................................................................67 Five Stages of Grief Play Script!..........................................................................68 Conquering Ephemera!.......................................................................................78 A day in the life of a holocaust victim!................................................................79

Memoirs!..............................................................................................................80 Thorn for Thorn!.................................................................................................82 Book Trailer of The Declaration by Gemma Malley!.........................................84 Current Affairs Education in Australian High Schools!......................................86 Freedom!..............................................................................................................87 Reckless Reasoning!.............................................................................................92

Introduction to STEM Dear Readers, Welcome to the 2011 edition of STEM, coordinated entirely by the year 10 students of MLC School.

STEM is a valued project within the school that aims to showcase the diverse talents, pursuits and interests of the wide range of students. The project also gives participating students the opportunity to demonstrate their independence, sense of leadership and self-determination.

It is crucial to note that the works submitted in STEM are not limited to pieces created within school hours, walls or curriculum. Many of the works displayed were composed during the personal time of students. The wide array of works submitted is a clear indication of devotion to the project and enthusiasm to integrate learning and creativity.

When constructing this magazine we, the editors, considered it essential to ensure that we upheld the value of diversity. Each student offers a unique style that represents not only the wide variety and cultures within the school, but the endless possibilities of creativity. “Imagination is more important than knowledge” Albert Einstein once said. There are no limits to the creative endeavours of MLC students, and this magazine serves as a platform to showcase the beginnings of many fine works to come.

A phrase that we support strongly at MLC is ‘school without borders’. The STEM magazine interlinks strongly with this notion. For the first time the STEM magazine is available through the online world, delivered at the fingertips to people across the globe. It is important that for the future schooling, we diminish the line in the sand between school and life ‘beyond’. This magazine has given us the opportunity to integrate our learning, passions and endeavours with the wider world, an opportunity for which we are very fortunate, and will inspire us for years to come.

We would like to thank the many students who put great and effort into creating and publishing the magazine you see before your eyes. We would also like to show our gratitude towards the many teachers, parents and members of the valued IT Department at MLC who guided us during the process. Without them this magazine would not have been possible.

Yours Truly, The Editors, STEM Magazine

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER

by Susanna Wang

Knowledge is power. This is shown in so many different ways today. Knowledge makes people rich, knowledge makes people successful, knowledge makes people successful, knowledge makes you wise and knowledge makes your life easier. Based on this, I created a rough work that focuses on the beauty and the magic within knowledge, which in turn is power.

Commentary THE YOUTH WILL BE FLYING My honest predictions of what the world might be like when my generation are the leaders, and what needs to change in modern education to make sure that the ordeal will not be too horrible.

By Fiona Lin It is a truth universally acknowledged that the meek (or the geek) who will inherit the Earth. However, the plain and simple fact of the matter is that it will not go to either of these parties, at least not exclusively. No. Inevitably, every one of us will die, and it is a sad but true fact that older people will probably die before their younger counterparts. This leaves the children of today as the ones to inherit the world of the future, and we have an obligation to make sure that they will be able to continue our world along some semblance of everimproving progress. And, in a world were teenagers are slipping away from deeper thinking and knowledge, easily lured by the omnipotence of technology, the role of education is pivotal in allowing children to be better thinkers, leaders and people in a better world of their creation.

Who will deny that the task of restoring this world order to fairness and equality will require immense amounts of persistent effort? The world may seem rosy enough for the few of us living in affluence.

According to the Human Development Index (HDI), Australia is the second best country in the world in 2010. This index is a thorough and reputable measure of the collective state of a country through a mix of GDP, life expectancy, education and literacy indices. We can take this as a fair indicator of our collective luck in the circumstance of our birth and/or life. We could have ended up in the Democratic Republic of Congo, which despite sitting atop an estimated $24 trillion of natural resources, is still wracked by the violence and suffering a prolonged and bloody regional war can bring. The DRC, and forty-two countries ranked as having a “low development index”, and the story gets worse. This index, whilst highly valuable, does not accurately reflects the state of the bulk of the population, the majority, rather than the plights of oppressed minority groups – or indeed, even the half of the population who are women. Did you know that in Egypt in 2009 the ratio of estimated female to male income earned was 27:100? Of course, there are other special indices to measure all this, but the scope of the inequality in the current state of our world is not easily reflected in numbers. Tragic, individual stories are not easily compressed into numbers, or even words.

The power of the beast, a laptop Even in more general global terms, the world can seem like a pretty bleak place. We are in the throes of the next environmental Apocalypse in Climate Change, if the wildest of reports are to be believed. Even most of the more moderate reports acknowledge the need to radically and collectively alter the world’s way of living to stave off temperature rises exceeding a few degrees. Technology (especially digital advancements in computing and the Internet), whilst allowing us to be on the cusp of great improvement in access to knowledge and people, may lead us to an equally astounding but awful world of strict internet censorship, monitoring and formidable propaganda machines. Unfortunately, sometimes sweeping change led by the masses will lead to the crushing of minority groups with little leverage and power. We must balance the need to rule for the greater good with that of the rights of the individual.

We have to help them, but how? And who? “We” can mean many things in this case. It could be talking about the elders of our society, on which time and experience have bestowed wisdom and knowledge. Or it could be referring to the young people themselves, who will actually be the ones to bear the burden of leading our world into the dark and twilit depths of the future. Let’s face it, the world is a tough place, so to help enable us to lead with any goodness or authority, “we” will need to include everyone lucky enough to be alive to help in this collective endeavour, whether young or old.

As has been proven over again and again in lawless countries, when there are no strong and grounded leaders, there is no stability. When a generation of children who slips past with minimal education there will be a lack of leaders, and thus stability. It is hard for a country to find leaders when only 26.2% of the population is literate, such as in Mali. Of course, there are other factors at play, but education plays a huge part in this matter. There is absolutely no way we can create passionate, motivated, effective and wise leaders without investment in cultivating the interest and engagement of youth in the bigger issues that rack our world. We need to make sure that the children of today are prepared to carry us forward into the future, and

the best way that we can prepare them for this is to give them the knowledge of what the world is like today, and to teach them how to think of and construct a better future.

On a worldwide scale, ensuring that an education system is in place in every country can be highly difficult. When you are fighting a fully-fledged civil war, or are in the throes of a famine or economic stagnation, education is, out of necessity, not your country’s greatest priority. I won’t concern myself with the issue of providing education in developing countries, out of the time, knowledge and subject constraints of this essay. However, I think it is safe to say that three big issues that need to be addressed are tailoring schooling to fit the resource constraints, ensuring schooling helps promote rather than exacerbate gender equality, and providing some way to measure the progress in developing education in those countries. There are already international organisations such as UNESCO and UNICEF who work towards implementing those above goals. It is not an easy job to educate a planet of children.

Education in Australia is for the most part simply exceptional. Whilst some schools are disadvantaged, to the suffering of its students, the average school allows for students to learn, develop their mind, and to hopefully use this to live life better, or at least more easily. However, there are some worrying trends that we need to keep in mind, and hopefully address.

1.

The toning down of the severity of the praise and criticism of students by teachers, whilst admirable in its intent to protect the feelings of young children, has led to a culture where students are unable to receive honest feedback on their performance. Here I refer to the “Report Comments Writing Guidelines 2011” issued by MLC School. Report comments are a more formal way of communicating feedback to a student, and is often more valuable than a set of marks. When a formal school report comment, regardless of the student referenced, must contain one positive and one negative and must not ask even the most hardened truant to “work harder”, then all feedback is pretty much the same for one student to another, and thus the feedback has lost all its meaning. If a remarkably large proportion of students are called “excellent” or have achieved “pleasing results”, then how are you to determine which of the main cohort are actually truly exceptional? How is the student, when flattered in such generic terms, to determine whether they have something special that they should push hard to cultivate? It is as much the job of a school to cultivate intellectual self-confidence as the emotional, social and physical. Something needs to be done to allow for teachers to be more honest in their evaluation of students, otherwise both student and teacher will not be able to improve themselves.

Important tips from the “Report Comments Writing Guidelines (2011)”. Essential life skills are reiterated.

2.

High-stakes testing will never be an accurate indicator of the depth of understanding achieved.

Essentially, high-stakes testing refers to standardised tests in skills such as literacy and numeracy are assessed across a large number of students. In theory this may seem a good idea: and when used correctly it can give information on the skills and competencies of people in very basic but necessary aptitudes. But, the rudimentary nature of this testing makes it easy for students to ‘rote-learn’ and for teachers to plan their lessons around learning the idiosyncrasies of multiple-choice questions. The very “easy-to-mark” nature of the tests means that lengthy and detailed answers are eschewed in favour of easily quantifiable and definitive responses. Therefore, any “value-added modelling” off this data is useless as the input data does not accurately reflect performance and improvement. This often means that the deeper understanding of curricula allowing for application in the rest of a student’s life is not emphasised, and thus the basis for learning is heavily compromised by using NAPLAN or similar results to determine the quality of a student, teacher or a school.

Just how reflective of actual learning are these MLC School 2010 NAPLAN results?

3.

There exists no formal vehicle for NSW school students to regularly evaluate the performance of their teachers. This is a glaring omission. Whilst there might be meetings, press releases and report ‘recommendations’, very little has actually passed into practice. It is hugely detrimental from a rational viewpoint – students, who are the ones who directly feel the effects of good or bad teaching, are unable to formally report back on the effectiveness of a teacher, and thus no decisive action can be taken for effect. Only in extreme cases will a student feel compelled to report, and by then it is often ‘too late’.

Colleagues and impartial external observers will never have quite the same viewpoint as a student for many reasons. In the end, teaching is there to educate the students, and thus one important measure of a good teacher is their students’ reception of them and their ability to help them learn. In practice we must ensure that students are able to fairly, formally and regularly evaluate teachers so that all parties mutually benefit and improve.

4.

Technology has massive potential to streamline and improve ‘learning experiences’, but sometimes it is best left out when it complicates things even further. Technology should never be used for

‘technology’s sake’, for the mere impression of ‘moving forward in innovative progress’. When the use of modern technology instead of ‘pen-and-paper’ technology takes longer, requires a significantly larger outlay of resources, and does not represent an idea any more effectively than its non-digital counterpart, it has no place in the classroom. One example of this comes from the “Digital Education Revolution” of Rudd’07, which essentially gave a free laptop to just about every year-9-or-above student in an Australian school. This was a big leap forward as laptops hugely increase the amount of resources, especially primary, that you can access. But, I was talking to some of my friends in the public school system, and they told me how they were told (or forced, rather) to use their laptop during every lesson, even Maths, which is generally accepted as a subject where (currently) pen and paper allows for students to more easily represent their ideas. I don’t have the time to attest to any more gratuitous misuses of technology, but when introducing new digital technology you need to ensure that these powerful new tools are being used effectively.

This is not an effective use of technology.

5.

School funding is also another big issue. Of course, this may seem like a petty bourgeois concern for those countries blessed enough to have both an effective private and public school system running concurrently. However, when you are a school principal struggling to pay your disgruntled staff, or to buy new computers, the necessity of ensuring adequate levels of monetary funding becomes apparent.

There still remains a substantial gap between the most disadvantaged and advantaged schools in Australia. And by continuing to fund these schools at similar rates to previously, we are simply perpetuating the gap that does exist. To close that gap effectively we either need to cut funding to the ‘better-off ’ schools, or substantially increase funding to the ‘less-well-off ’ schools. [You may notice how I avoid using the terms “private” and “public” schools. Because of the very nature of the different

sources of funding that private and public schools receive, the ‘richest’ of private schools tend to receive more money than your typical Australian school.] It is a hard choice to make, delving into both ethics and self-interest (and selfishness). Are we at MLC justified in continuing to enjoy a much higher standard of education than those in many other Australian schools? More importantly, are we so strong in our moral conviction that we are willing to cut our own spending, and use the resultant amount to help raise the standards of other schools at the expense of our potential further development? I hope I will not have to make that choice, but someone will – and it’s even harder when they don’t have the right information. When even an ACER researcher (Dowling, Andrew “Australia’s school funding system” (2007), p9.) finds it hard to track down recent data on the distribution of school funding, we know that there is a major endemic issue in the treatment of school finance. Transparency is key – it allows us to fairly criticise the existing system without being too rash. Either there’s something to hide, or no one has put the effort or the trust into providing the information to make the important decisions of future funding distribution.

The rather vague financial breakdown of MLC School from MySchool. Still more specific than most official MLC documents released to the MLC School Community.

6.

Lastly, all this would be useless without improving the content of curricula to ensure that it is useful, and interesting enough for students to properly engage with. It was with some disappointment that I skimmed through the newly ‘reviewed’, ‘designed’ and ‘proposed’ draft National Curriculum last year. I couldn’t really see how it was any improvement on our original, state-based curricula. There were no substantial changes in either approach or content that I could spot, nothing but superficial changes in semantics with their new, forward-looking twaddle and flowchart diagrams. But clearly some people did see a faint glimmer of hope, and the Australian Curriculum for K-10 were finalised in December 2010.

More official curricula are to follow. We can only hope that someone higher up will be brave enough to develop something radically different that will totally enthral young and hardened audiences such as ourselves.

The world may just turn out all right. After all, technological, environmental, humanitarian and bureaucratic crises and advancements can inspire just as much change and progress as they can destruction.

However, we need to make sure that the future leaders of tomorrow can take advantage of these opportunities rather than squander them. Even though I don’t end on the rousing notes of the Communist Manifesto, I implore everybody to seriously consider what we are doing. Because if we don’t get this education thing right, then the whole world can and will degenerate into barely concealed chaos.

References:

http://research.acer.edu.au/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1000&context=policy_analysis_misc http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democratic_Republic_of_the_Congo http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/HDR_2009_EN_Table_K.pdf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_Development_Index http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/HDR_2010_EN_Tables_reprint.pdf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_literacy_rate#endnote_0 http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au/Home

http://www.myschool.edu.au/MainPages/SchoolFinances.aspx?

SDRSchoolId=1300299_9973&DEEWRId=1452&CalendarYear=2010&RefId=bAtKpu87n2r2VBKXA2E Fb%2b1iOazC2tlN http://www.mlcsyd.nsw.edu.au/page/public/about-mlc/our-results/naplan http://www.mlcsyd.nsw.edu.au/page/public/transforming-learning/what-is-transforming-learning http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/politics/golden-apple-for-scores-not-the-way-to-improve-corestandards-20110512-1ekkb.html

WHAT IS ‘NORMAL’?

by Stephanie Rowell Does it even matter? I find it very hard to define this elusive, yet very common word, often used colloquially, like, everywhere.

“I wish I was normal.”

“That’s so weird. Why don’t you do something normal for once?”

“I live a completely normal life. I don’t do anything even remotely out of the ordinary.”

I am most certainly not normal, by most people’s standards. I like school.

I enjoy sci-fi stuff. I like reading. I don’t drink, smoke, go out to parties and hook-up with guys. I have been in a spelling bee. I do cheerleading. I participate in numerous extra-curricular activities, so many I have lost count and therefore do not have a life.

All these things are probably not what someone would think ‘normal’ for a teenage girl growing up in Sydney. But all of these things make me who I am. And so what if that makes me ‘abnormal’ or ‘weird’. If, to be normal, I had to give up these things, then I don’t think I would want to be normal. It just sounds so boring!

Anyway, how do you even begin to think of what is normal? Every single person in the whole world is different, and therefore there is no such thing as something ‘normal’. If everyone on this Earth was the same, then there would be normality. If the majority of the world was the same, then there would be normality - whatever the majority thinks, believes, does.

However, I don’t know anyone else who is exactly the same as me, neither physically, nor psychologically, nor emotionally.

Everyone has a story, and everyone’s story is different.

Although there are several hundred girls who, like me, go to MLC School, Burwood, not one of them even shares the same name as me (the same cannot be said for some) - although there may be some with similar names. Not one of them has experienced what I have experienced, despite our mutual attendance of assemblies, classes and Opera House rehearsals - even though some of them may have had similar experiences.

I am an individual. I am not normal. There can be no such thing as ‘normal’, not until humanity evolves into a species of clones or robots.

And even if there was normal, would you want to be it? Celebrate diversities, differences, even dare to be more than another ‘normal’ sheep, as tempting as it may sound sometimes just to blend in and be a wallflower.

And in light of this, as one wise man once said: “Follow your inner moonlight, don’t hide the madness.” - Allen Ginsberg

GEORGE STREET Patches of blue sky seep through the gaps, The sun’s simmering smile saturates a Swamped street, a crowded street Buzzing and swarming like a bee hive.

A column of beggars along the footpath Like monuments, permanent and symbolic, Skyscraper’s shadows drooping over you, Center point tower proudly reaching up for the sky.

The town hall steps are littered with people waiting, Shopping complexes, modern monsters Gobbling up humans and money.

The harbour breeze gently whispers.

Different colours clashing and fusing Like splashed paint on a canvas, The town hall clock slowly Ticking the time away.

People rushing, pushing, clashing Stifling their loneliness and fears — Out of their comfort zones.

By Sandra E

TAKING ACTION Wake up to an empty stomach, Stripped of basic human rights, Living without the comfort of a home and family, We say to ourselves - one day we’ll wake up to help provide, And for the time being we shove these thoughts aside.

Turn on the tv, And listen to the news, Imagine being shot for your views on religion Or even worse your views on the system, Hear the sounds of the wild youth taking over, takings risks and rebelling, We claim that we are too young to help, But does humanity really require an age?

Does it really matter if you’re eight or fourty-eight?

When freeing the rightful of their cage?

I don’t want the past to be full of war, collisions and stupid decisions.

It takes tiny drops to fill a cup, And simple actions can take a similar route, It’s time you begin to act.

Play your part in the world, We may be building a path for a world free and not dissolute, Even though we know that the world is cruel and is full of delinquency, We still kill the innocent for the power we seek, What ever happened to peace, love and unity?!

My mind can’t get around why a woman can’t get an education because of her sexuality, You think that’s all? Think again, Try to find a valid reason for why racism still exists, Why a little child can’t sleep without his head beneath a bed sheet, It’s time poverty becomes just a vital story from history.

Stop, relax and think about your creation of the future, You, and me, each one of us can make a difference.

Join me and help to pursue a good living.

by Hamna Baloch

ROSTRUM SPEECH

by Emma Williams Emma went through to the regional finals and then failed!

You know those people who iron their clothes while still wearing them, who fold prams while children are still in them and who use hair-colouring as ice cream topping? No, you don’t because they don’t exist. While, on this earth there may be those who are horribly gullible, there is no-one who would iron their clothes while they were still wearing them. Suprisingly each of those three statements is a real warning label on a real product. “Warning!” says Loop Hair Colouring, “do not use as an ice-cream topping.” Now, I could be totally wrong about this ladies and gentlemen and correct me if I’m wrong but I am sure, that you have never had the urge to cover your two scoops of vanilla ice cream with red hair colouring. According to not only these producers but also our current society, we are living on the edge where everything, especially the dreaded, hazardous and treacherous “LoveNcare” three wheeler pram is a source of intense danger, which we need to be warned about.

Countless amounts of useless warnings just like these exist all over the world. So many that when you type in Stupid warning labels into Google you are faced with approximately 261,000 results. There is even a website devoted to these outrageously pointless warnings.

When you see warnings like “Shin pads will not protect any part of the body they do not cover” and on a superman costume “wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly” you have to wonder how unintelligent product manufacturers think we are? I mean surely these warnings have gone far beyond the scope of human unintelligence, no matter how impossible that seems.

But, to be fair, the producers of these products do have their reasons to churn out these warnings. Our society is overly lertitgious. These companies must warn against every possible thing that could go wrong while the product is in use otherwise they risk getting sued in a multimillion dollar case on the rare occasion that someone attempts to swallow a mattress from the bedroom company. Every possible dangerous thing is padded, softened and covered in bubble wrap because no-one is safe in this dangerous age of living on the edge where people attempt to stop chainsaws with their bare hands, where there are bags of peanuts which contain nuts and where coffees may be hot.

Because of this pressure for companies, I’m surprised all products don’t come with novels full of warnings and that there aren’t examples of warnings like, do not use this fork, while riding an elephant on a jumbo jet. Danger of serious injury applies. In the United States alone there are 90 million lawsuits filed each year, this is over 150 suits a minute. It’s not only a waste of time, but also the amount that society can achieve is seriously hindered. Just think about it, in the past supermarkets and restaurants donated their unsold food to soup kitchens, to feed the homeless but now anything just a day over the best before date has to be thrown away instead, through fear of being sued.

And you know what the saddest thing about this whole litigation business is, through fear of pointless lawsuits, playgrounds are less fun. Currently councils and schools are implementing less flying foxes and monkey bars which are renowned as the best parts of a playground all because of the fear of the dreaded (que scary music) Broken arm.

To the adults in the room, I ask, please think back to your childhood. Wasn’t it the norm for at least 1 child in your class to come back from holidays with a broken arm from falling off the monkey bar – it’s a part of life – a milestone if you like – but instead today, breaking your arm from falling off the monkey bars would definitely be classified as living on the edge – on the dangerous side of life.

And whatever happened to the spinning round abouts that used to be a main part of every playground – the answer is that they were “living on the edge” type of material.

The playground is a metaphor for life – the more artificial you make it, the more you control and interfere with it, the less exciting it is. Humans are made for excitement (for one we have this amazing thing called adrenalin), we like unpredictability. Maybe, just maybe, it’s better to be living on the edge.

Oh, and remember. Be really careful because Nytol sleeping pills, they cause drowsiness.

THE FISHING TRIP

by Tess Watterson Fishin’ days down the Murray were a sorta tradition in my family. We’ve lived just outside Howlong, on the farm, for a really, really long time. Mum says that’s, ironic - that no one knows how long we’ve owned the farm outside Howlong, but I dunno what ironic really means. “I wasn’t around in the days we lived elsewhere Jim, and don’t yer imply that I was.”, Uncle Pat was always sayin’. He doesn’t joke around much about anythin’, Uncle Pat, but once yer’ve lived with him for 13 years yer know that, and yer know when yer allowed to laugh even though it ain’t a proper joke.

We’d walk down the old dirt road that leads to the Murray, and pass lots of wallabies and the tiny birds Uncle Pat calls the ground birds, cause they just hop around on the ground all day and we ain’t never seen ‘em fly. Then we reach the edge, where it opens up into this big flat dirt area and walk on a little dirt path along the river bank about ten meters till we get to the little tin shed we keep the dingy. Problem is though, there ain’t much room in the little tin shed, so we have to climb around and all before we can get the thing out, and among all the spiders that live there, and their bloomin’ webs, yer ain’t got much chance of it gettin’ done in less than 20 minutes.

Once the boat’s out and in the water, it takes another 20 minutes just to get jolly Uncle Pat into it, and by the time i’m in it it’s already taken us at least an hour, includin’ walkin’ down here from the old farm house that is.

Now, before we keep goin’ there’s some things yer outta know ‘bout old Uncle Pat. First off, he’s a real oldie, sticks to the traditional ways of doin’ things and won’t stand for no nonsense (which unfortunately involves any technology made this century). Also, he reckons, an’ he tells me this a lot too, that anythin’ worth doin’, is worth doin’ well. This is why it’s a fishin’ day, see.

Now usually we spend the day out on the little boat and yarn ‘bout whatever’s on Uncle Pat’s mind and it don’t bother me too much, and at the end of the day, just when the sun was goin’ down, Uncle Pat would sit out on the end of the boat and wait for any of them jumpin’ fish. I never thought they were all too great, them jumpin’ fish, but he sat there anyway and waited for them. Then we’d come back in, take just as long to get the boat back into the shed, and walk back up to the house just in time for one of Granny Shirely’s brilliant meat pie’s.

But I remember our last fishin’ trip clearer than any other. The first thing outta place, was that Uncle Pat was kinda more quiet than usual. He could be a real talker our Uncle Pat. Then was there were someone else’s boat skids down our dirt patch, which ain’t never been there before, cause there ain’t no one who uses our dirt patch but us.

So we went to the shed, both thinkin’ it was a little off, but the boat was there and all, so everythin’ seemed fine. Then, when the sun was about half was up in the sky Uncle Pat said somethin’, the first thin’ all day mind, that shocked me real big.

“It’s those Asians, it is.” He said, and sounded real angry too, not how he sounds when he talks bout’ the new type of bread at Donny's in town, but real angry, like I ain’t never really heard before. “Those bloody Asians that come in ‘ere and think they can just run everythin’. Think Australia’s their new China.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that, to tell yer the truth. I mean, there was only one Asian kid at my school, a little girl a few years bellow me. There don't seem nothin’ different ‘bout her expect maybe her fact was a little different, but there was definitely nothin’ bad.

“Yer dunno that for sure.” Was all I could say, and he didn’t look at me when I said it. He was lookin’ out over the river, and watchin’ sommin’ happenin’ on the far bank. I looked over too.

I couldn’t really see what was goin’ on, but I could see a boat was pushed up onna’ the bank, clearly one’a the rentals from further down the river, and there were two people in it. They both had shiny, black hair, but I couldn’t see their faces. There was an older one, bigger, probably a guy, and one smaller, a little girl, from her hair. And the little girl seemed to be hurt. She was definitely cryin’. I couldn’t believe I didn’t here it before I noticed her. The man looked like he was bendin’ over her legs, like somethin’ was wrong with them.

I moved my hand towards the oars so I could row the boat over to them but then Uncle Pat put his hand down on top of mine. And it was a firm hand, not a helpful hand, or a ‘don’t worry’ hand, but a ‘yer-gonnalisten-to-me’ kinda hand.

“Row down the river Jim. I hear the fish’re jumpin’ further south.” And he almost said it like he was darin’ me not to. Thing was though, we’d just come from the south. And the little girl was down North.

I couldn’t believe it. He was gonna leave the little girl, whatever was wrong with her, and he was just gonna row away. Except that I was gonna just be rowin’ away too. Then I though about what he’d said. ‘...those bloody Asians...” . The people in the boat were the Asians. I almost wanted to row to them just to see what old Pat would do.

But I didn’t.

I just left, listenin’ to the girl’s cries gettin’ softer and softer. Uncle Pat watched me the whole way. I kept my head down but I could feel his eyes burnin’ into the top of my head. I didn’t look him in the eye for the rest of the day, not even gettin’ the boat in the shed. But I snatched a glance at him when he wasn’t lookin’.

He didn’t look happy or sad or impressed or annoyed. He didn’t look anythin’ really. Just kinda tired.

That was the last time we had a fishin’ trip together. Uncle Pat died a month later.

And I ain’t seen the Asian’s since that day, although I dunno why. And I never even found out what was wrong with her.

I dunno if things would have gone differently if they weren’t Asians, if they were white; just other people.

But the Asians were just other people. I should have known that. I did know that. They were just other people who needed help, that I left. That I abandoned.

I didn’t really know what to think about Uncle Pat after that. I didn’t know what to think about myself either.

I didn’t go to his funeral. I guess I just couldn’t. A helluva lot changed that day. I had really thought I knew him. I had really thought I knew myself, too. I guess I just I dunno as much as I thought.

But I know I sure as hell would have gone to the little Asian girl’s funeral, if she ever had one.

And I didn’t even know her name.

STEMSUBMISSION June 2011

These days, everything relates back to Facebook, or some other type of social network... Now, not only do you talk to people over Facebook, but then, when you see them face-to-face, your conversation is comprised of the conversation you had on Facebook.

Cassey Coleman

face(book) Value The superficial implications of your Facebook appearance The

By Cassey Coleman

There are so many modern day proverbs using the word ‘face’. Get out of someone’s face, face up, have the face to do something, in-your-face, loss of face, on the face of it, face value...that’s only seven, but let’s face it (another face reference, eight), the list is endless.

Now let’s modernise these ageless adages. Get out of someone’s Face(book): to stop harassing or annoying someone’s Facebook...have the Face(book) to do something, having Facebook and using it in insolence to do something...loss of Face(book), which results in a loss of respect from peers and Facebook friends, resulting in humiliation...oh, and a personal favourite, the Face(book) value, which is the superficial appearance or implication of something on Facebook.

Okay, so I’ve stretched my metaphor a little thin; but the concept is clear. These days, everything relates back to Facebook, or some other type of social network - Twitter, MySpace, Formspring: these sorts of sites are taking over the lives of society.

Now, not only do you talk to people over Facebook, but then, when you see them face-to-face (nine), your conversation is comprised of the conversation you had on Facebook...or something you posted on their wall...or one photo or another - as if liking it and commenting on it wasn’t enough.

And it’s not just your everyday status and posting of photos and video links either; when faced with (ten) a serious affair or tragedy, Facebook is there to put a good face on (eleven) the issue, and laugh it off.

Only minutes after Osama Bin Laden’s death was announced, Facebook was buzzing with new pages and groups: “The awkward moment when Osama Bin Laden respawns...”

A friend of mine literally spent the entire hour and forty minutes of her double period of English, browsing through the countless pages Facebook users had created; all of which had been formed in in less than twenty four hours.

It seems to be a prevalent issue in our community; people are unable to face (eleven) the reality of their life,

STEMSUBMISSION June 2011

and it is these members who hide behind the minimal positives in their life.

Members of society who cannot face the music.

In the face of (thirteen) tragedy, or despair, or any other feeling that is displeasing to deal with, society creates a way out of it. And it is this that serves as the motivation for those happy-go-lucky statuses that always star on Facebook accounts.

Times Healthline published a recent article, containing a study of the psychological reasoning behind the purpose of one’s Facebook status. The opening lines of the piece were simple: “Have other people’s blithe Facebook updates ever made you feel like a total loser? You’re not alone...”

The article, written by journalist Maia Szalavitz, explored the issues surrounding Facebook, and its purpose in our contemporary society. It too focused on the fact that society is unable to “face the music”, turning to social networking sites and impersonal communication to lighten the events of one’s life. Szalavitz writes: “...It's not surprising, given that when things aren't going well, people try to keep their negative thoughts inside — no one wants to be a downer.

That's why, for instance, people's Facebook status updates are happy and self-promoting; very few people report on their latest failure...we hide our own negative feelings from others [and] often our friends and families are doing exactly the same thing...”

The basis of this article came from a recent study, which was inspired by the “Facebook envy experience”, which relates back to statuses downplaying the negative aspects of one’s life, and displaying the positives.

Researchers asked 63 students to report the positive and negative experiences they had had in the previous two weeks. The results found that

Facing up Above Right: Facebook often displays statuses that don’t display the genuine feelings of the Facebook user.

Below Right: This image is another way to make light of Osama Bin Laden’s death: Osama Bin Laden’s “profile” on Facebook has been maintained, and images like this are still common occurrences.

Far Right:

29% of students’ “bad experiences” occurred in private, compared with 15% for the “good ones”.

And just under half of the time (40%), people deliberately concealed negative feelings.

It’s not surprising, given that when things aren’t going well, people try to keep their negative thoughts inside.

Very few people report on their latest failure.

Maia Szalavitz

This idea of society not being able to face the music is present not just in the virtual world, but in the physical world too.

But Facebook, and other such “virtual worlds” are probably the area where this is most seen. And the study above gives the answer why. I mean, people don’t usually want to dwell on feelings of loneliness or sadness when they’re out in a group. In contrast, many of our negative emotions are experienced alone; people just generally tend to be happier in social settings.

That’s not to say that negative emotions and experiences never occur in a social setting: because what are friends for but to help and support you when you do feel lonely or depressed?

But it would seem from things like Facebook, and these types of studies that society is happy to hide behind a positive status in order to try and regain those feelings of happiness that they can’t seem to reach on their own.

So I have one last thing to say, and, yes, unfortunately, it does contain one (or two) “face sayings”: let’s set our faces against the rising tide of hiding behind our status - let’s face off the Facebook value, and instead?

Let’s face the music.

Design Year 10 Enlightenment - Haesun Kim

YOUR IMAGINATION SHOULD RUN WILD...

From Sketch...to Finish!

©Haesun Kim

©Haesun Kim

How Fashion can be incorporated into

Global Citizenship

By Haesun Kim

Fashion is a part of everyday life. You see it everywhere, in magazines, billboards, the media, and even in workplaces. It helps define who you are and how you want to portray yourself to the world.

2011 MLC School, Year 10 I designed a white oneEnlightenment project shouldered dress with a which is ‘Global ruffled skirt and handCitizenship’. embroidered flowers. The ruffles symbolize the I decided to create a various ideas of global wearable garment which citizenship. The garment is represented both myself white and the white and the theme of ‘Global symbolizes peace while the For my Enlightenment Citizenship’. hand-embroidered organza project, I really wanted to flowers represent the local express myself and show to interests such as the love of “Global citizenship everyone my ability and family, communal fairness applies the whole world strengths as an everyday and self-interest, which is to bring peace and the learner and how I will stated to some accounts of concepts of globalization grow both physically and which citizenship is and multiculturalism” intellectually but still trying encouraged. to go with the theme of the

Haesun Kim - Year 10 Enlightenment, MLC School 2011

Internationality The Chapter Subtitle style is useful for adding more descriptive information underneath the chapter name. Chapter subtitles aren’t displayed in the Table of Contents.

SAN FRANCISCO by (?)

You look up so often your neck starts to hurt but you can’t help but stare at the buildings that put the skyscrapers back home to shame. The view of Alcatraz, with its uniform, death-coloured windows in the faroff but ever present bay, shut off from the rest of the world by the Golden gate Bridge, only adds to the feeling of being trapped.

You can smell the ocean and car fumes and deep fryers all at once – at least, until you step into Chinatown, where the smell of burning incense haunts the tourist-packed streets, escaping from the junk shops that fail to hold it captive. These shops in themselves are like another world hidden behind vibrant posters for movies and plays and music next to no one has heard of plastered on so thick the brick walls are three-dimensional. Inside, you are almost blinded by vibrant silk scarves in every colour of the rainbow and the light bouncing around the room, reflected off mirrored walls and countless sequins. The sign on the delicate china warns ‘do not touch!’ but you have no need to – the sight of the intricately painted blue flowers and brush strokes that twist themselves into detailed scenes is enough to leave any body wondering how these could be mass produced.

The steep hills not only leave you breathless from climbing them but speechless in wonder, the tarmac turning in on itself, leaving room for the millions of steps and perfectly manicured garden beds. You feel every last step pounding in your knees and hips as gravity not only pulls you down, but also forwards.

The far-off rattle of the cable cars is just as unnerving as riding one while you look desperately for a place to put your feet and something, anything, to hold onto. Your stomach drops sickeningly as it rounds corners at an unbelievable speed and screeches to a halt at less than a seconds notice. Cars whizz past in unexpected directions and you become a child again as you cross the road – overcautious as you look, clinging desperately to those who know the roads better than you.

As you walk towards the water, the omniscient Starbucks, McDonalds, and Taco Bells are gradually replaced with street markets and the occasional corn-dog stand until you get to Pier 39 and are by the smell of freshly made chocolate and caramel, tourists so densely packed they seem to multiply as you watch, and novelty shops with loudspeaker out the front, a guy with a microphone flogging his wares.

The other-worldly sideshow attractions of Pier 45 transport you to another era, back to even before the regal maroon paint on the cable cars was chipped and falling off. The coin-operated sound of Laughing Sal pierces you to the soul as your future is laid out in front of you on a cardboard slip for no more than a quarter by a gypsy in a glass box.

A TIBETAN STORY

by Tess Noble

I was twelve when I escaped from Tibet. It was 1959 and we left just after the Chinese were allowed access into Tibet under the 17 point agreement. I didn't know what was happening at the time and the only thing my father said was that we were going to Nepal where life would be better and more peaceful.

I don't exactly remember how long the whole journey took but I remember the endless days of treacherous walking, the days that my mother struggled to put down one foot after another as she carried the weight of my unborn brother. It was hard; we travelled by night on nonexistent trails to avoid the Chinese patrols. The cold seeped through our clothes and bit into our skin. We were used to the cold, but not this cold. Here the wind was as sharp as needles and any exposed skin soon turned white and flaky. We had little food and every minute seemed like an hour, every hour like a day and every day like a year. We constantly battled hunger, cold and the fear that we would be caught. I sometimes wondered if we would make it.

We walked and walked but my mother got sicker each day and we eventually had to stop. It was one of the worst days of my life. The day when I thought that no good would ever come to me again. The day that my mother and father were caught. The day we had to stop as my mother gave birth. It was a long and difficult birth and the baby was premature. We had no idea that Chinese soldiers were just over the next ridge. My mother screamed in pain as my brother came out. Then we heard yelling over the ridge. My father quickly wrapped my brother in his jacket and thrust him into my arms.

"Take care of him," he said. "Now go."

"But..."

"Just go" I didn't need another warning; I could already see the red rims on the Chinese soldiers’ hats. I ran up the hill to where the rest of the group hid in a narrow gap between two huge rocks. It was from there that I saw my mother and father taken away. Hiding there, I could hear the high pitched whistles of the soldiers and the deep loud voice of my father yelling as he struggled to keep them away from my mother, but there were too many and he was soon overwhelmed. I watched them being escorted away, my mother barely able to stand from exhaustion. We stayed still for hours, not wanting to move or make noise in case they had sent others back to look for us. I stared at the bundle in my arms. So helpless, and now alone.

As it turned out, I did see my father again. After making it to Nepal I was placed in a refugee camp where I was given food and limited education. Just after the anniversary of my 5th year there, I was sitting in the courtyard, my brother on my lap when I smelt something. It was a familiar smell, a smell that I had tried long forgotten, so long tried to forget. I couldn't pick it out; it was a mixture of tobacco, sweat, yak butter tea and wild mint. Only one person I knew always smelled like wild mint!

I looked to see where it was coming from. I couldn't believe it when I saw him. He looked much older; his hair was longer and his face more strongly lined, but it was him. My father. He stood in a line of newly

admitted refugees. I walked up to him, smiling. His face also split in a smile, but it looked as if it was the first smile he'd given in years.

Now I live with my wife in a small home in Kathmandu. My father died several years after he arrived, but not before he had seen both my baby brother and I grow into men. He never got past the sadness of my mother's death when the Chinese in Tibet held her captive.

My life has been hard, yet today I am still alive and I am safe. My only wish is that Tibet will one day be free and I hope that one day I can show my children and grandchildren the place where I grew up.

REFUGEE

A short story about the impacts of the political tension and conflict in Tibet on the people living there.

By Pauline Voukidis

Her eyes stung and watered as she squinted out across the horizon. Mountains stretched out, looming over her, casting dark shadows. Threatening and intimidating, they seemed a never ending map, a puzzle you could so easily get lost in. Grave and sombre were the charcoal clouds that rolled across the horizon, draped like a curtain, an icy trap waiting to engulf whichever helpless soul wondered into them.

The little girl let out a whimper. It was faint, yet it echoed throughout the silence, only frightening her more. Her frail figure cowered before the immense plateau. Her bones stuck out and her skin was pulled tight across them, leathery and worn, yet she was still only young. Her eyes were rimmed with thick black lashes, yet the childish spark that once lived inside the deep blue, had been extinguished long ago. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin yellow, a helpless child only wishing to be saved.

Behind her, a lady stepped towards her, placing a cold yet warming hand on her shoulder. It seemed to fill the young girl with hope, her posture straightened and she breathed in heavily. Closing her eyes, one tear ran down her cheek, leaving a moist trail behind.

Shivering, she drew the blanket around her shoulders tight, her exhaled breath turned into a misty cloud.

“Keep going, Jun. There is no time to look back.” The lady’s voice was like a singing bird, gentle and beautiful as she spoke in their Tibetan tongue.

Nodding solemnly, Jun picked up her feet, ignoring the spasms of pain flaring up through her arthritic bones, “Yes Shuang.” Her voice was feeble, carried away in the soft wind.

They had been trekking through these dangerous mountains for weeks, now, surviving on the little rations of food they found and small sips of water. They were refugees, seeking a place of sanctuary where they could escape the Chinese government, their propaganda and all the lies. Shuang was a nun, cast away from

Tibet for studying Tibetan Buddhism and the young girl, Jun, whom she had taken responsibility over, thrown out along with her.

A small stump made Jun stumble. She tried to stifle her cry of pain as a small gash was torn through her weak skin. The journey out of Tibet was a long and perilous trail, they both knew this and Shuang had told her countless times, of the dangers that lay in their path. The perils were of no end and the young pair faced death from the chilling cold or hunger, falling down pitiless crevasses or being shot at by the ruthless Chinese border guards.

In spite of her distress, Jun kept going, her willpower pushing her through to the very end. As young as she was, she knew she could overcome the Chinese government and finish the fight for what she wanted.

Shuan murmured something about being careful yet didn't suggest stopping to soothe Jun’s wound. She was aware of the very little time they had left and the very little strength they had left.

They had managed to evade the border guards they had come across, so far but only from travelling at night. When they began their journey, the months were warmer than the freezing cold they were in now. Of course the mountains were never balmy, yet she dreaded to think of the bitter weather they would have to fight against if their journey continued into the winter months.

Jun’s eyelids drooped, making her stagger yet again.

“Careful.” Warned Shuan again.

A small glint of light started to show between the gaps in the towering mountains. The sky was slowly turning a pale red- orange as the sun began to rise and day revealed itself.

“Please, Shuan.” Jun gestured to the ground, Shuan obviously knowing that she meant she wanted to stop for the day.

Nodding, they began to prepare a well- hidden spot for them to rest in. They ate the little tough meat they had left over from the rabbit they had caught a few days ago before deciding who would keep watch first.

They talked little these days- life was too diminishing for them to waste energy on speech. They used to talk about all kinds of things, however. Shaun told Jun of stories about refugees, how at least three- thousand Tibetans escaped into exile by making this perilous journey across the Himalayas to reach Nepal, and how one- third of those are young children, sent into exile or escaping in order to receive an education free of Chinese propaganda. Yet never had Jun even considered that she would become one of those children who had to take the journey that took months, where she had to travel on foot and in the night to avoid being caught.

Shuan, on the other hand, new of the freedom tension between China and Tibet. She was one of those who rallied for Tibet to become a separate country. Her and her other friends, both monks and nuns alike, were all seeking to further their study of Tibetan Buddhism yet soon realised this was impossible in Tibet.

The Chinese government were increasing their restrictions on religion and had official surveillance in monasteries and nunneries.

She knew that even if they reached Nepal, the Nepalese government might force them to go back. Even if they didn’t, she also knew of the frequent reports of abuse and harassment of Tibetan refugees by Nepalese police and authorities. She knew she was fighting a loosing battle, yet she struggled towards the finish line. She needed to show the authorities that simple people deserve rights and if they didn't receive them, they wouldn’t give up without a fight.

So she continued. She continued her journey over the Himalayas, thorugh the Nangpa La Mountain Pass, five thousand seven hundred and sixteen metres above sea level, in the freezing temperatures. She continued with Jun, and together she knew they would make it. Or die trying‌

SUSHI AND ITS DEEPER MEANINGS

By Fiona Lin Sushi has become quite the popular fast food, gaining a ubiquitous reputation throughout the modern Western World as a rather nice and easy-to-get, common food. Obviously, it wasn’t always that way.

According to the most accurate and reputable source of information in the modern world (Wikipedia), “Sushi (すし、寿司, 鮨, 鮓, 寿斗, 寿し, 壽司?) is a food of Japanese origin consisting of cooked vinegared rice (shari) combined with other ingredients (neta). Neta and forms of sushi presentation vary, but the ingredient which all sushi have in common is shari. The most common neta is seafood.” Amazing! Sushi is clearly a very exportable product, up there with Japan’s other cultural icons like Toyotas and… Lots of things!

Well actually, sushi actually originated as early as 7th century C.E./A.D. in China’s Tang Dynasty. So much for a symbol of Japanese identity. However, this clearly shows the multicultural nature of our world. It reflects the continuous and endless processes of cultural transfer, evolvement, and multilateral refinement.

Every country shares stuff with other countries.

Sushi even represents the epitome of a very technical and precise science. People all over the world (and more so in Japan, which has the reputation of being a nation of foodies) enjoy blending gastronomy with the art of elegance and simplicity. The vinegar in the rice must be added and cooked in such a way to ensure that there is exactly the right amount of amino acid released, otherwise it would lead to an imbalance of the “umami” savoury flavour. Originally, it was made with heavily fermented fish, but has evolved to cater to the changing palates of modern eaters.

Today, of course, sushi has been exploited and reinvented by the West. This may be a good thing – constant multilateral involvement, especially in such opposing cultures, is better for unity and cohesion. Or it may be a bad thing – an example of colonialism, Western hegemony, racism, whatever you like to label it.

Sushi trains, deconstructed seaweed broths with dehydrated rice grains suspended in umami jelly, foodpoisoning from raw sashimi left too long in the sun, are all hear to stay. Whilst we have to exercise caution in taking other culture’s traditions and exploiting and reinventing them for our own gain, this is an innocent and perfectly permissible incidence. Unlike, for example, where you rampage a country and mine all the diamonds from their soil, or where you loosely drape keffiyehs over yourself as a fashion symbol (blissfully unaware of the political connotations). Sushi is here to stay. And while we have it, let’s enjoy it and eat it.

THE MINISTRY OF TRUTH

By Joanna Yu It’s the Ministry of Truth, the place where people really do get punished for Thought Crime and where the past and present can be altered, literally. It is responsible for the infamous Great Firewall, and along with it, the absence of Facebook, YouTube and Twitter for 1,331,460,000 people. It’s the Propaganda Department of the Community Party of the People’s Republic of China, who shows the truth as it deems fit.

The government run news agency Xinhua is the official press agency of China, and it has been described as the ‘eyes and tongue’ of the Communist Party of China. Information goes through a complex, yet fastmoving filter system, and out seeps information that the government wants you to see. All information must be approved before being broadcast, and the government regularly instructs the news agency to cover up sensitive topics, such as the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989 and ongoing censorship issues. Journalists in China are taught the art of self-discipline, and must align themselves to the Party’s values. Journalism was once the practice of informing the public, yet in China, it has shifted to become a direct confirmation of the ideals of the communist party.

Even Orwellian ideologies such as ‘thought control’, have come to exist in China. Through tight censorship, the Chinese government is able to change and influence the thoughts and beliefs of many. People are shown the truth, but only the truth that is ‘right’ for them to see. Any anti-government affairs are covered up with pro-government propaganda, and this is a major factor in the Communist Party’s continual hold on power. Liu Xiaobo, a Chinese Dissident awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2010 for his continues to be held by the Chinese government for his anti-government sentiments. Liu was awarded this prestigious honour for “his long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China.” Yet, he is also predominantly unknown to Chinese citizens, thanks to China’s regrettably effective Propaganda division. Despite having won one of the most highly regarded awards, Liu Xiaobo is a virtual unknown in China, underlining the government’s stringent media constraints. China has a long past of detaining outspoken lawyers, bloggers and dissidents who are often pro-democracy and critical of the Communist Party. Many of these activists simply ‘disappear’, and are taken by the government and ruthlessly persecuted. In an era of changing values and conventions, it is difficult to comprehend that oppression of such a degree is still in existence - that believing in something could send you to jail and even to death.

Though unlike Orwell’s 1984 dystopia, it is evident that technology and the Internet is overcoming practical limitations that can be imposed by the government. There are only so many sites that can be blocked, and thus, such control is being hampered. Censorship is a very controversial issue, both within China and internationally. There is rapidly growing dissent over censorship within China, and although there are ‘directives on coverage’, this does not mean ‘there is no coverage’. A small amount of people may gain initial knowledge on a controversial issue, though it is often that the controversial issues spread fastest.

It is this factor that is key to overcoming repressive and undemocratic suppression of information that exists in China, and only when contentious issues can be freely discussed will the government move towards allowing greater freedom in speech and thought. China is quickly piecing together to become the world’s global superpower, and eradication of such suppression and brutality will only be critical to its success on a worldwide scale.

A TO A ~ AUSTRALIA TO ASIA (AND BACK)

By Christie Chan Moving houses is already a huge task. Moving countries? Now that’s on a much larger scale. Dad signed a contract to work in Hong Kong, 7 349 kilometres away from Sydney. I was devastated. It also meant being thousands of kilometers apart from friends. It was either solely online communication, or a very expensive phone bill.

Being in Year 5 meant going to your friend’s house on the weekend; whilst the parents gossiped and had a cuppa, we mucked about. My younger brother had only just begun Year 1 and loved it - young, wild and free from the constrains of life.

Moving meant leaving friends who were, somehow at the time, the most important people in life, other than family. Spending time with them meant the world to me, it would be the highlight of the week.

Attending an international school overseas meant that students were used to the coming and going of students; leaving the school after a year was no big deal. I thought that it would be rather hard leaving once I got there, thinking that I would return just in time to kickstart high school. Apparently not. Extending the contract would mean having the identity of being an expatriate for longer, and not leaving in time to begin the second most important part of my schooling back in Sydney.

Living overseas gave me the opportunity to travel to many different countries, as Hong Kong is located at the heart of Asia. This made trips to neighbouring countries quick and easy; flying from Sydney to Tokyo would take around 11 hours, but from Hong Kong, I could be there within 4 hours.

Keeping in touch with friends back in Sydney was difficult as well; there was only the occasional email for the latest goss or a telephone call once in a while.

As we grew older though, we found Facebook, Skype and MSN, a much faster way keep tabs on one another, share secrets and stories of life on the other side of the world.

Coming back to Sydney, starting at a completely different school and meeting old friends, I realized that everyone and everything had changed. It was difficult to adapt for a while, though meeting up with old buddies definitely made me feel at home more than ever.

日 本

By Samantha P

HIRAGANA Hiragana is one of the components of the Japanese writing system. It is a widely used form of kana (syllabic writing) in the Japanese language. The following are the first five characters of this alphabet.

a

30 Second Japanese For Beginners わたし は NAME です。 My name is…

Watashi wa NAME desu.

Greetings おはよう ございます。 Good Morning Ohayoo gozaimasu. こんにちは。

i u e o

Basic Language

Introducing Yourself

Hello

Konnichi wa. こんばんは。

Good Evening

Konban wa. おやすみ なさい。

Good night

Oyasumi nasai.

Comments すし は おいしい です。 Sushi wa oishii desu.

Sushi is delicious.

Lifestyle MOCKINGJAY Genre: Science Fiction "

Young Adult

Author: Suzanne Collins Cover artist: Tim O’Brien Reviewer: Cynthia Liang Rating: 3.5 stars/5 stars The long-awaited third installment of the esteemed The Hunger Games trilogy, Mockingjay was released late August with great anticipation…but was it worth getting all worked up about?

The book Mockingjay is a continuation of Catching Fire, of the aftermath of the 75th games, and resolves the cliffhanger ending of book two. After her rescue by the rebels, Katniss agrees to become “The Mockingjay”, the symbol of the rebellion against the Capitol which has descended into an all out war. No longer are the Games held within an arena, but are now spread throughout the districts. Collins creates a war both real and horrible, making the story even more gripping and electrifying than the last two.

The story is at once distressing and frightening, with blood and gore flying left, right and centre.

However, everything happens for a reason and nothing is pointless. Every wound and death has its purpose and everything is connected to draw readers in emotionally. As the story progresses we see Katniss fall apart, and in a sense, so do we.

Collins continues to further expand on themes in the previous two novels of physical hardships, loyalty in extreme circumstances, unrequited love and whether or not war is the best way to resolve conflict. In this thrilling novel, Katniss is faced with betrayal and often confronting violence.

Throughout the series Suzanne Collins is consistent with her main protagonist, Katniss Everdeen. In the beginning of the series, katniss is depicted as a straightforward, engaging and strong-willed character, capable of looking after both herself and her family and friends. However, in the third installment, instead of growing, Katniss seems to stagnate. Instead of developing into a mature woman, she continues to be a whiny, indecisive teenager and although she has moments of independence, she gives up, never really reaching her full potential as the Mockingjay. The only thing she is truly decisive about is her desire to kill President Snow.

Furthermore it doesn’t help that she spends most of the story recuperating in hospital, a disappointing feat for all readers.

Additionally the story progresses slowly with little action and particular deaths were unnecessary, for example the death of Katniss’ younger sister Prim. At the end of the story, there is ambiguity as to what life will be like in Panem and this leaves readers disappointed.

Overall the book Mockingjay is an enthralling adventure filled with terror, very real situations, a bittersweet ending and would be recommended for children aged 13 and up, due to themes and violence.

Mockingjay is a well-written novel and receives a rating of 3.5/5 from me.

HOW TO PLAY 500 A Guide to the Challenging, but Very Rewarding, Card Game that is not only for Retired People Living in Special People’s Homes

by Stephanie Rowell To start, you will need 4 people – two teams of two. It is possible to play with six (you will need a special 500 deck and you play with three teams of two), three or even two people (I don’t recommend trying to play with three or less people – half of the fun in the game is that you are playing on teams).

Decide on the teams – the optimum configuration is sitting around a square (or rectangular) table with team members opposite each other.

Choose a dealer. This is usually a member of one of the teams, but can be an extra person who does not actually play the game.

The dealer must remove all of the 2s, 3s, the black 4s and the second Joker so that there are 43 cards in the deck in total (including one Joker and two red 4s).

Shuffle the cards thoroughly, and then deal ten cards to each player – traditionally, the cards are dealt in this order: 3 per player and one in the middle for kitty, 4 per player and one in the middle for kitty, and finally 3 per player and one in the middle for kitty. Each player should have ten cards, and there should be three cards in the middle for kitty.

Each player looks at his/her/its cards, deciding which suit is strongest and therefore which suit to bid.

It is important at this stage to note that 500 is a game of suits, and the aim is to score 500 points between the two players on the team. It is similar to Bridge, but less complex and you can play 500 at places other than community centres and old people’s homes. The highest card is always the Joker, followed by whichever suit is trumps. However, the second and third highest cards in trumps suit are not, as one would assume, Ace

and King. They are in fact the Jack of the Trumps suit, followed by the Jack of the suit of the same colour.

After that it follows the usual order – Ace, King, Queen, Ten etc.

For example: If Hearts is Trumps, the highest card is always the Joker, then followed by Jack of Hearts, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, King of Hearts, Queen of Hearts, Ten of Hearts, Nine of Hearts, Eight of Hearts, Seven of Hearts, Six of Hearts, Five of Hearts and Four of Hearts (because the red fours are left in the deck).

The minimum bid is 6 of Spades, followed by 6 of Clubs, 6 of Diamonds and 6 of Hearts. Then it follows the same from 7-10 (it is very unwise to bid ten of any suit, as it means that you have to win each trick). The maximum bid is 10 of Hearts, as there are only enough cards in the deck for ten tricks. Each bid must be higher than the previous bid, so that if the previous bid was 7 of Hearts, the next player must either bid 8 of Spades or higher, or they must withdraw from the bidding. Once a player has ‘passed’ and therefore withdrawn from bidding, they cannot reenter the bidding, but can pass at any time.

Begin the bidding. You bid the amount of tricks you think you can win, although they do not all have to be tricks from the suit you have bid. For example, if I had very strong Hearts cards (i.e. Joker, Jack of Hearts and Jack of Diamonds, plus maybe an Ace or two from other suits), I would look at bidding at least seven or eight of Hearts. Also, through the bidding you and your partner are communicating, letting each other know which suits you are strong in or not so strong in. Remember – you are playing as a team, so don’t completely ignore your partner.

The player who wins the bid is the last person with the highest bid after everyone else has passed. The winning bid defines which suit is trumps, and who will be starting (always the person who won the bid). The winning bid also provides the winner with an advantage – kitty. Kitty is the three cards that were dealt out in the beginning, and the person who wins kitty can take or add to it, provided that it always has three cards in it. When the player has decided which cards she/he/it will keep, he/she/it puts the remaining cards in Kitty aside, not to be used again in the game.

Then play begins. The player who won the bid starts, laying down whichever card they choose, remembering that they have to win at least the number of tricks that they bid to get the points. Each player plays a card in a clockwise motion, so that the second person is seated on the left of the first player, etc.

To win a trick, your card must have been the highest played in that trick (there are four cards per trick).

You must also follow suit whenever and wherever possible – so if a Club was played, you must play a club unless you have none, in which case you can either Trump it (by playing any card from the Trumps suit) or play any card from any other suit. If a card is played from the Trump suit, it always wins unless another higher Trump is played.

Example 1. If the cards that were played are (and Hearts is the Trumps suit): King of Clubs Ace of Clubs 9 of Hearts 8 of Clubs The player who played the 9 of Hearts would win, because it is a trump and therefore higher than all other cards in the trick. However, if it was a 9 of Clubs, the Ace of Clubs would win as it is the highest card in the Clubs suit.

Example 2. If the cards that were played are (and Hearts is the Trumps suit): Jack of Diamonds 6 of Hearts Queen of Hearts Ace of Hearts The player who played the Jack of Diamonds would win the trick, as whenever Hearts is Trumps, the Jack of Diamonds becomes a Heart, and the third highest card in the game (and vice versa). However, if Hearts wasn’t Trumps in this situation, the Ace of Hearts would win, as it is the highest Heart played in this trick. But, if Diamonds were Trumps, the Jack of Diamonds would still win as it is the second highest card.

Play continues in this fashion until all of the ten tricks have been played. Then, the team that won the bid has to count up their points amassed by the score, and check whether or not they achieved their bid.

Add the scores, start a new round with new cards and a new bid, and keep playing until one team scores 500 points.

Other variations include Misere, in which the aim is to lose all tricks, but if even one trick is won by the winning bidder he or she loses; No Trumps, in which there is no trumps suit and the second highest cards are the Aces; and Open Misere, similar to Misere but in which the winning bidder of Open Misere puts all of his or her cards on the table and the other.

BUGS AND ALL A personal reflection on irrational, short-lived hobbies and the longer-lasting effects they may have on your life and sanity.

by Fiona Lin I have been bitten by the bug. A bug that demands that I follow it and its every command. It requires everything of me – itching persistently, a parasitic attachment to my body. It will suck until satiated. Like a

mosquito, but with tastes more refined. The pest of whish I speak is not yet recognised as the nefarious force it clearly is. This bug is relentless. Eventually it will run and find another victim. Perhaps I will even miss its familiar and comforting dependency. But then a new bug will find and bite me.

Left: Rubik’s Cube (Fiona Lin), Right: Caliphora Portrait (JJ Harrison) This particular bug I speak of is the Rubik’s Cube. It may not seem to bear much resemblance to a cretinous and foolhardy insect, with its colourful and cheerful exterior and while its colours may look like bug eyes, swirling, segmented and swivelling, not much else in its physicality would suggest its resemblance to a bug.

But have you considered beyond the superficial appearances of the Rubik’s Cube? Do you remember spinning the nubile block, mesmerised; the rising surge of bile and anger as you realised that mindlessly turning the cube around and around, again and again would not solve it? Or the time you threw a Rubik’s Cube out of the window in the vain hope that the mere force of gravity would be able to rearrange all five hundred and nineteen (519) quintillion – and yes, I use that term in a strictly mathematical sense – possible arrangements of the cube? The feeling of incompetency as you stared helplessly at your newly speedcubingobssessed friend? Erno Rubik is obviously a man with a knack for spatial reasoning and an incredible propensity to laugh at the sufferings of others.

It seems that I may have become accustomed to the temptations of this bug, feeling ‘pumped’, enthused and determined by its obstinate nature, but I am sure that not every reader feels as such. Instead of feeling disheartened when it took me two hours to successfully place four pieces in their correct places, I used that first failure to spur me on further. After a year of dedication (and a tub of my trusted lubricant, Vaseline), I can now twist the cube in its different slices and layers, and am fairly confident of the positive outcomes of

my various cube-solving “algorithms”. I’m still working on new techniques to get my time below my “talentblock” of 30 seconds. Whilst I like to think of myself as quite an impressive cubist (Rubik’s Cubist, not Picasso Cubist), I recognise that in the bigger scheme of things that my achievement in this specialised cult is still quite appalling and substandard (see attached video - and “Rubik’s Timed”). In my heart I reserve a special envy and intense hatred for every time I hear that 15-year-old Feliks Zemdegs has broken another speedcubing world record.

Obviously, a Rubik’s Cube is only one example of a “bug”. As much as I like it, I cannot bring myself to love a piece of plastic, something that merely pivots about an axis with no passion. There are other bugs, however, more animate and thus more alluring. When bugs bite me I cannot help but be curious. Some people may choose to ignore the itching that these bugs cause, or invest in very good ‘insect repellent’ and apply it liberally, thinking that this will make bugs simply evaporate from the air. I, however, will do whatever these hallucinogenic bugs induce, and follow the orders through very eagerly and enthusiastically for a short period of time. My average “engagement” time is about three weeks. Then I’ll start to lose interest, another bug will bit me, and the whole process will start again.

Over the different years of my lucid memory I can remember being attracted to more fads and trends than I can count. Some of the more memorable ones include Supertux, Quinn, online Texas Hold’Em Poker, Solitaire, Minesweeper and Ninja Assault. These sound superficial and may indeed reflect the sorry state of our connected-yet-unconnected cyberworld. However, I do remain doggedly attracted to some of those computer games included in my youth. I have also been able to connect with the loftier aspects of humankind, the eternal questions and philosophies that underpin our continual search for some semblance of fulfilment, like reading Wikipedia articles on Keynesian Economics. That is an attempts that I have made to try and connect with something ‘deeper’ whether it be social, intellectual or political.

I still carry with me some of the bugs that have “bitten” me. Whilst my ardour for them may be dimmed, even extinguished, I am still interested and curious, willing to find out more in my spare time. I learn more about the world, and its diverse quirks. I learn more about myself, and the way I like to work through problems or learn new skills and emotional tendencies under immense but artificial duress. If curiosity is the inception of genius, and a “bug” the inception of curiosity; then a “bug” can be the inception of genius.

Curiosity, even when provoked by a seemingly fleeting fancy, can lead to wonderful things.

Some bugs may turn out to be fruitless failures. Even if you learn how to solve a Rubik’s Cube you may not be able to solve all 519 quintillion arrangements of it – because only 1 in 12 are solvable. But once you’ve put the time in, you have gained skills that will last a lifetime, a greater understanding of your own capabilities and needs, and most importantly, something to brag about to strangers on blog/Twitter/ Facebook. Because isn’t that what global citizenship is all about?

For more about Rubik’s Cubing:

A great tutorial for the ‘Petrus’ Method Interesting page on the origin of the F2L+PPL+OLL method (“Fridrich”)

EASY CHOCOLATE CARAMEL SLICE

by Emily Arden Makes: Approx. 16 slices Ingredients: Base 1 cup plain flour, sifted # cup brown sugar # cup desiccated coconut 125g butter, melted Filling 2 400g cans sweetened condensed milk 3 tablespoons golden syrup 90g butter, melted Topping 60g copha, chopped 125g cooking chocolate, chopped Method: 1.

Preheat oven to 180째C. Line the base and sides of a lamington pan with non-stick baking paper.

2.

To make base: Combine all base ingredients in a bowl. Mix well and press mixture into the prepared lamington pan. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until a light golden color. Remove from oven and cool.

3.

To make filling: Combine all filling ingredients in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook, whisking, for 8 minutes or until golden. Pour mixture over cooked base and bake for 12 minutes or until firm.

Cool completely then refrigerate for 3 to 4 hours, or until set.

4.

To make topping: Place copha and chocolate into a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water. Stir until melted and smooth. Pour mixture over caramel and refrigerate for 20-30 minutes or until set. Cut into squares to serve.

Tip: The caramel slice is best cut out of the pan as this decreases the chances of the chocolate cracking.

BUTTER CHICKEN RECIPE

by Lana Kennedy

Ingredients (serves 4) "

125ml (1/2 cup) natural yoghurt

"

1 tbs lemon juice

"

1 tsp turmeric

"

2 tsp garam masala

"

1 tsp chilli powder

"

1 tsp ground cumin

"

2 tsp grated fresh ginger

"

2 garlic cloves, crushed

"

1kg chicken breast fillets, chopped

"

125g cashews, roasted

"

60g unsalted butter

"

1 tbs sunflower oil

"

1 onion, finely chopped

"

1 tsp ground cardamom

"

1 cinnamon stick

"

1 Indian bay leaf or normal bay leaf

"

2 tsp sweet paprika

"

425g can tomato puree

"

150ml chicken stock

"

250ml (1 cup) thickened cream

"

Steamed basmati rice, to serve

Method 1.

Combine yoghurt, lemon juice, turmeric, garam masala, chilli, cumin, ginger and garlic in a bowl.

Add chicken and stir well. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

2.

Reserve half the cashews and place remaining cashews in a food processor. Process until finely ground.

3.

Heat the butter and oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the onion, cardamom, cinnamon and bay leaf and cook for 2 minutes until the onion starts to soften. Reduce heat to low, then add chicken and

marinade, paprika, tomato puree, cashew powder and stock. Simmer for 15 minutes. Stir in cream and cook for a further 10 minutes.

4.

Garnish with cashews, chopped coriander and serve with rice.

CHOCOLATE CAKE IN A MUG

by Ari De Bono

Preparation time: 5 minutes Ingredients: 2 tablespoons self raising flour 2 tablespoons caster sugar 1 tablespoon cocoa 1 small egg 1 tablespoon milk 1 tablespoon oil Half a handful of chocolate chips or bits 1 teaspoon icing sugar Ice cream or whipped cream mug

Method: 1. Put the flour, sugar and cocoa in the mug

2. Mix

3. Crack in the egg

4. Whisk

5. Add milk and oil

6. Mix

7. Sprinkle in chocolate

!

8.

Microwave for 2-3 minutes

9. Sprinkle with icing sugar

10. Put on ice cream or whipped cream to taste

2011!

!

JANA VAKIRTZIS

5 S T E P S TO B E T T E R H E A LT H

YOU CAN IMPROVE YOUR HEALTH Take Control of Your Health!

There are basic steps you can take to protect and greatly improve your own health. Is doing so worth the effort? By all means! You can increase the quality of your life and avoid needlessly shortening it. The following articles will consider five basic steps that have helped many people improve their health. These steps can help you too!

Step 1: Eat Wisely “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Author Michael Pollan encapsulates simple, time tested dietary advice.

Eat fresh foods. Concentrate on eating “real” food-whole, fresh foods rather than modern processed foods.

Commercially prepackaged foods and fast food from chain restaurants usually contain high levels of sugar, salt and fat, which are associated with heart disease, stroke, cancer, and other serious illnesses. When cooking, try steaming, baking, and broiling instead of frying. Make sure meats are properly cooked, and never eat spoiled food.

Do not eat too much. The World Health Organization reports a dangerous worldwide increase in overweight and obese people, often the result of overeating. Obese children are at a risk of present as well as future health problems, including diabetes.

Drink plenty of fluids. Adults and children need to drink plenty of water and other unsweetened liquids every day. Such liquids aid digestion, cleanse your body of poisons, make for healthier skin, and promote weight loss. Avoid drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and too many sweetened drinks. One soft drink a day can add seven kilograms to your weight in a year!

Step 2: Take Care of Basic Body Needs Get enough rest. The demands and distractions of modern life have reduced the time people spend sleeping. But sleep is essential for good health. During sleep our body and brain repair themselves, benefitting memory and mood.

Sleep reinforces the immune system and reduces our risk of infection, diabetes, stroke, heart disease, cancer, obesity and depression. Most adults need seven to eight hours of sleep every night to look, feel, and perform at their best.Young people need more.

Sleep-deprived teenagers are more prone to have psychological troubles and to fall asleep when driving.

Sleep is especially important when we are sick. Our body can overcome some illnesses, such as a cold, if we simply get extra sleep and drink plenty of fluids.

Take care of your teeth. Brushing your teeth and flossing them after meals, and especially before going to bed, will help ward off tooth decay, gum disease, and tooth loss. Without our own teeth, we many not benefit fully from the food we eat.

Go to the doctor. Early diagnosis usually results in a better outcome and less expense. So if you do not feel well, get help to find and eliminate the cause, instead of merely seeking to relieve the symptoms.

Step 3: Keep Yourself Moving “If exercise were a pill, it would be the most widely prescribed medication in the world.” (Emory University School of Medicine) Exert yourself. Leading a physically active life can help us feel happier, think more clearly, have more energy, be more productive and, along with proper diet, control our weight. Exercise doesn’t need to be painful or extreme to be effective. Regular periods of moderate exercise several times a week can be very beneficial.

Jogging, brisk walking, biking and taking part in active sports can improve your endurance and help prevent heart attack and stroke. Combining such aerobic exercise with moderate weight training helps to strengthen bones, internal muscles and limbs. These activities also contribute to maintaining a higher metabolism, which automatically helps to control your weight.

Use your feet. Exercise is beneficial for people of all ages. Simply using your feet instead of a car, bus or elevator is a good start.

Step 4: Protect Your Health

Keep your home clean. Make whatever extra effort is needed to keep your home tidy and clean, inside and out.

What more is needed? It takes more than self-interest to establish and maintain a healthful way of life.

Eliminate any place where water can collect and mosquitoes can breed.

Rubbish, filth, and uncovered foods and garbage attract insects and vermin, all of which can bring in microbes and cause disease.

Eliminating long-standing bad habits can be daunting, and making even simple adjustments requires strong motivation.

Even the threat of serious illness and death many not move some to do what they know is good for them. What will?

Like all of us, they need to keep in mind a Avoid injuring yourself. Obey safety laws when working, riding a bicycle higher purpose, or objective, in life.

Friends need to remain healthy and or motorcycle, or driving a car. Make strong to continue helping each other. sure your vehicle is safe to drive. Avoid excessive sun exposure, which causes Do not give up! Whatever cancer and premature aging of the skin. If adjustments you need to make, you may you smoke, stop. Quitting now will experience more success by starting significantly lower risk of heart disease, gradually and not setting unreachable lung cancer and stroke. goals for yourself. For example, try cutting down on less-healthful foods, Step 5: Motivate Yourself and rather than cutting them out completely.

Others Try going to bed a little earlier and Keep learning. There are many getting a little more exercise. Doing institutions that provide educational something is better than doing nothing. It programs and literature on a wide range normally takes time before a new good of health topics. Take advantage of them, habit becomes second nature. In the and educate yourself about basic ways to meantime, if you do not see immediate improve your health and to avoid benefits from your extra efforts, do not endangering it. Keep an open mind, and despair. If you persist, despite setbacks, be willing to make simple adjustments. your health is likely to improve.

Keep yourself clean. “Hand washing is the single most important thing that you can do to help prevent the spread of infection and to stay healthy and well,” reports the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. As many as 80 percent of infection are said to be passed on by unclean hands. So wash them often throughout the day. Do so especially before eating, preparing food, or touching a wound, and do so after touching an animal or using the toilet.

Washing with soap and water is more effective than using alcohol-based hand sanitizers. Bathing every day and keeping your clothes and bed linens fresh and clean also contribute to better health.

Avoid infectious disease. Avoid close physical contact or the sharing of eating utensils with any who have a cold or the flu. Their saliva and nasal secretions can pass the illness on to you.

Vaccination can help to prevent some infections, but a wise person must still take necessary precautions when with someone who has an infectious disease.

Exercise can be enjoyable

Literature FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF

by Tess Watterson & Jordon Tredinnick

Tess and I have been doing acting for years and have written our pieces for all nearly all those years. So in preparation for our Grade 6 drama exam we decided to write always a piece on something a little more serious. Something that would have the potential to create awareness and knowledge. We were interested in the topic of loss and how people, especially young people deal with the death of people in their lives.

As we researched we found a theory called the ‘Five Stages of Grief ’. This theory is based on five observable stages a person will generally go through when experiencing death or the anticipation of death.

Both my drama partner Tess and I had experienced one of our close friends loose a relative to cancer so we began to write two young characters, one who was loosing a battle with cancer.

Our two characters Ellie and Sam, aged 17 and 16 had been best friends for years but find their friendship strained as Sam is diagnosed with a brain tumour and has been given only a few more weeks to live. Through out the piece we watch these two characters go through the five stages of grief and learn to deal with this death.

The Five Stages of Grief are the following: Denial, where the subject with rejection toward the reality of the situation. Anger, a state where the subject will maintain anger toward everyone because of the situation they are in. Bargaining, a stage as the subjects attempts to do good in exchange for more time. Depression, seemingly a state where the subject feels there is nothing to be done about the circumstance and finally Acceptance, the state of accepting the hand that’s been dealt and dealing with it.

Tess and I both believed that these two characters provided a great stage to display these emotions and stages that too many young people in today’s society do. Which is why we were elated when, after entering an international play writing competition in London, we learned we had been awarded The Most Promising Play Write under the age of 16 award.

The examiner from the Trinity Guild Hall College travelled all the way to Sydney to present us with our award.

Excerpt of the last monologue ELLIE: The doctors say he isn’t in any pain. I believe them. I have learnt that you just gotta have faith in people sometimes. Sam has faith in me, to take care of him and know what is best. I have faith that the God I know will have mercy on him and take him in his arms to a better place when the time is right. Where there is no pain or sadness.

Where he can live on forever. He will never get tired or sick or hungry. He will have all

the computer games his Dad wouldn’t let him have. He will have a guardian angel to be his friend until….. until I join him in heaven. Sam will be alright. And I think he knows that now. They say that when people know the end is coming they go through 5 stages of grief. The first is Denial, then anger, hell knows Sam and I went through a lot of that, then bargaining, then depression and then, finally, acceptance. Accepting what is coming and knowing there is no way to stop it but that you have to make the most of now, of the time you have left. I think Sam knows that. I’m glad he does. He knew everything was going to be ok. And now I know that too.

FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF PLAY SCRIPT

by Tess Watterson & Jordon Tredinnick Two characters. Boy, Sam and Girl, Ellie. Ellie is little and ditsy. Sam is bigger, he is 17. Ellie is 16.

The five stages of Grief Scene 1 Bean bag in the middle of the stage.

Sam and Ellie jogging on the spot in the center of the stage.

Ellie runs in front of Sam and starts to run different directions like turning into different streets.

Voice over of doctors voice.

Doctor: I am sorry to inform you, you have cancer. I am sorry to inform you, you have cancer.

Sam drops to the ground and vomits. Ellie takes out her head phones and the voice over ends.

Ellie: Hey Sam, what's the matter? Are you alright? This is the first actual time I beat you.

Sam:

Yeah, I'm fine. It was probably just Dad's bacon and eggs. You go on without me.

ELLIE: Ok, see you back at your place.

Ellie runs off.

Voice over returns DOCTOR: Cancer!

Scene 2 Sam is sitting in the bean bag playing X-box.

Ellie knocks on the door and skips in, sitting down next to him.

ELLIE: Hey. Missed you at school today.

SAM: Where have you been? School finished an hour ago!

ELLIE: We had plans to meet up with the guys, we were just hanging out. You were meant to be there. Hey what happened to you?

SAM: I just wasn't feeling well.

ELLIE:

Oh, come on. You were so just skipping. Oh hey, guess what? You know that guy I like, Dean, Dean... someone, any way he talked to me today! He was like 'Hi, how are you?' and I was like 'Yeah, I'm good' and then he said he had to go and catch the bus but it was so COOL? Sam does not look up. Ellie waits for a response then hits him on the arm.

Ellie stands up.

ELLIE: What's been up with you lately?! You've been all weird, we haven't had a morning run in like weeks! You just don't care about anything anymore! You think that... that your so much better than everyone else! The whole world doesn't revolve around you, you know! It's not like your dieing or something!

SAM: Yeah well I am!!

ELLIE: What? Don't be stupid SAM: No seriously, I'm dying. I have Cancer. I found out a few weeks ago.

Ellie moves over to his side.

She freezes and Sam gets up.

SAM: Urgh! She just doesn’t get it! Knowing that you’re dying! Imagine it was you – you’ve got cancer. You know you’re dying, you just don’t know when, or how long, or if you’ll wake up in the morning vomiting and with a bleeding nose, or if you’ll even wake up in the morning! And she can just sit there and hang out with the guys. What about me, huh? Just this once, what about me? Do I just sit there and pretend nothing is wrong?

That I want to spend what could be my last year listening to her babble on every afternoon about what I've missed? Is that how it’s always going to be now? Other

people always telling me what I’m missing? I don’t want to die in a hospital bed! Or any bed! Not alone, before I’ve even graduated high school! Maybe when I’m one hundred and have a one hundred year old wife with me, and three children, and six grandchildren, and a life behind me, then it would be okay to die in a bed. Or if I was testing some new medical discovery, but there is no discovery, there’s just me, and death. And there’s no white light, it’s not some tunnel I’m going to walk through into heaven, it will just be it, over, finished. Suddenly, I don’t wake up. People think that it’s good to know, to know that it’s coming, that it will make you live your life, but it doesn’t. I may as well die today, in fact why not!? Come on GOD! If this is you loving me, then I’m not sure I really want to be loved! Let’s just have it out right now! Kill me now, put me out of my misery! I have a maths exam next week, better make sure it’s before then! Why the hell should I have to do a flipping maths exam!??! I’ll be long dead before university, before I’ll need to know extended algebra to get a good job! I could die tomorrow, so why the hell can’t I just die today!!!! WHY THE HELL NOT, GOD!?!?!?

Sam looks toward Ellie still frozen on the floor SAM: But it’s not just about me is it? How can I leave them… Mum, Ellie. That’s the hardest part.

Scene 3 Ellie stays on knees and her arms make a clock.

ELLIE: I wish we had more time Last word of each line flows into the next.

SAM: Time to do the things we planned. There's so much more to do Sam makes a clock with his arms ELLIE:

What can I do? What if I made a hundred paper cranes. Or is is a thousand?

Ellie makes her body into the shape of a crane SAM: A thousand more things to see. I was going to take Ellie to the Gold coast. I promised I would take care of her.

Sam is reaching toward the audience. Struggling ELLIE: I could take really good care of him. Get him to cut back on the junk food. Get him to eat right.

Ellie gets up like a crane taking off.

SAM: Right before I finished High School. Great! I was going to get a job. I was going to get a dog. And an apartment. I was gonna go to Uni. And see the world and fall in love.

Sam gets up off the floor and starts walking back like someone is pulling him.

ELLIE: Love and rest and good food is all he needs. And maybe one of those really expensive doctors in the US, we could raise the money. Have a bake sale, we have the time.

Ellie is mixing an imaginary bowl. Adding ingredients like she is making a cake.

SAM: They need more time. Ellie and mum. I wish I had a few more year. I wish...

Sam walks forward and pretends to drop a coin in an imaginary well.

ELLIE:

I wish it wasn't him.... I wish...

Ellie reaches from behind Sam and dropping a coin into an imaginary well.

SAM: I wish I could be with Ellie when I'm gone... I wish...

Sam drops in a coin ELLIE: I wish it was me...

Ellie reaches out and drops a coin in SAM: At least it’s not Ellie or someone else...

Sam drops a coin in Sam and Ellie: I wish the cancer would just disappear.

They both drop a coin in at the same time.

Scene 4 Sam sitting on bean-bag, Ellie enters with numerous bags.

Ellie puts the bags on the table and starts to pull things out. Sam playing video game, completely ignoring Ellie.

ELLIE: I have found this great Chinese herbalist. Apparently he’s cured hundreds of cancer patients. Here I got you these herbs, you just have to boil them up in this pot then

strain and drink. They taste putrid but hey if they make you better right? I’ve also made an appointment on Tuesday for you in Surry Hills for some acupuncture.

Wednesday at Double Bay for reiki…a friends Mum’s sister knows somebody who swears by it and lived 10 years more than expected because of regular reiki visits.

Apparently kinesiology is really good too. Oh I got you some brochures about these ‘cure yourself of cancer’ workshops. There’s one at the end of the month. Also you need to drink freshly made celery and rhubarb juice at least 3 times a day. So I bought you over a juicer. Also only organic food from now on. No coffee, tea, alcohol and definitely no more junk food. I’ve already done the grocery shopping for you. Now most importantly there’s this doctor in Perth who is accepting applications from cancer patients for a trial of a new treatment process. You have to get your Doctor to apply for you. Here is the form you need. I also downloaded a whole lot of stuff for cancer sufferers about self massage, meditation, positive thinking, diet, exercise, alternative therapies…

SAM: Enough! Stop! Just, stop.

SCENE 5 Sam music in the background.

Sam slow motion coreographed fight scene Overvoice returns.

Sam: It's hard to fight something you can't see.

Death is a fight.

A struggle.

Giving in, dying seem the easy option.

Finally relief, no more fighting.

But for now I have to keep fighting.

It's hard fighting against something that you can't see, Something you can't feel.

If someone attacks you, you can easily fight back.

But death is a sneaky fighter.

It hides in the one place you can't fight.

It hides in you.

So am I fighting death or myself ?

SCENE 6 Both characters accepting the situation. Ellie in her bedroom, Sam enters, happy and full of energy.

SAM: Let's go to the Gold Coast. For the weekend. Let's just go.

ELLIE: What?

SAM: I'm so over it, over worrying and caring and everything. I'm going to die! Let's go to the Goast Coast. I pormised I would take you, and now I am. The last chance I have.

Pack your things. I'll have you back for school on Monday.

ELLIE:

I... you.... Sam....

SAM: Ive finally figured it out,. Even though I'm dying, I want to start living. Just like everyone always says. Now. Today.

Sam takes Ellie's hand.

It's okay. It's going to be okay.

Sam holds his head and sits down Wow. I don't feel very well Sam collapses.

ELLIE: Sam! Ellie goes to Sam. Flashing lights, sound effect of ambulance siren.

SCENE 7 Sam laying on hospital bed. Ellie sitting next to him, holding his hand. Speaking to audience.

ELLIE: The doctors say he isn’t in any pain. I believe them. I have learnt that you just gotta have faith in people sometimes. Sam has faith in me, to take care of him and know what is best. I have faith that the God I know will have mercy on him and take him in his arms to a better place when the time is right. Where there is no pain or sadness.

Where he can live on forever. He will never get tired or sick or hungry. He will have all the computer games his Dad wouldn’t let him have. (little laugh) He will have a guardian angel to be his friend until…..(inhale) until I join him in heaven. Sam will be alright. And I think he knows that now. They say that when people know the end is coming they go through 5 stages of grief. The first is Denial, then anger, hell knows Sam and I went through a lot of that, then bargaining, then depression and then,

finally, acceptance. Accepting what is coming and knowing there is no way to stop it but that you have to make the most of now, of the time you have left. I think Sam knows that. I’m glad he does. He knew everything was going to be ok. (pause) and now I know that too.

Lights down.

CONQUERING EPHEMERA

by Sinead D.

The old woman at the bus stop looked up and down at my thick climbing pants streaked with dirt and the case of my DSLR slung over my shoulder, then gave me a quick, uncertain smile. I looked away and tried to hide my grin as I watched her shuffle awkwardly around her tartan bag. I glanced down at my watch, taking a moment to blow dust off its surface, and saw that the neon green surface read 10:05pm.

I sighed and transferred my weight between my aching feet, wondering briefly why an old lady like her would be out at this time anyway, but that didn’t matter. I thought back on the events of that night, and once more smiled to myself, it had sure been one hell of a day.

4 hours earlier I was the only member of the group for who this was their first exploration, and the others were having a great time rubbing it in. Em had introduced me to the others, who went by the names of Sid and JC. As for me, well they all called me Kat. Em had found out about urban exploration through her ex, and after he had taken her on her first exploration of an old abandoned industrial site, she had been hooked.

We were going down into the an old section of underground railway, and I had been told that it was perfect for beginners, a good chance of seeing something interesting, and not much chance of being caught by cops. Being caught had always been the major turnoff for me, but Em assured me that Sid and JC had had heaps of experience, and that even in the very slight chance that we stumbled upon a security guard, they never tended to bother pressing trespassing charges.

After getting through some easy security barriers, we found ourselves down in the maintenance access area to the tunnels. We switched on our head torches, the light casting eerie shadows onto the sloping grey, stone walls. We saw the tell-tale Danger, No Entry signs, and when I glanced at the others for confirmation I could see them giving each other knowing grins. Already I could feel my heart rate start to increase, and I clasped my camera tighter to my chest as Sid tripped the lock, and we made our way through the barred metal door.

Now we were in the narrow space on the edge of the tunnel, just out of reach of any trains that might zoom past at any moment, giving a couple of seconds of noise and bright light before they flattened you down into the tracks. For you it would only last a second, but the driver would have nightmares of your face pressed up against the glass for the rest of his life.

The tunnels were dark except for the light from our head torches, and even those we turned off once we had set up a small camping lamp that gave some illumination to the scene. It was silent except for the sound of our breath, which seemed laboured despite the fact that there had been very little physical exertion.

I crouched against the sloped cold wall, feeling the pulse of the city that sat right above my head.

I then realised why Em had become so hooked on this, it was the feeling of being in the belly of a great beast, an exhilarating rush of being in a place that no one had been in for a very long time. I felt a breath of wind on my cheek, and realised that in the distance I could hear the faint sound of a train whooshing along the metal tracks, fast approaching where we were sitting.

“Here it comes!” Sid exclaimed excitedly, and began to pull his camera out of its case, getting into position to catch the train as it came rushing around the corner.

I followed everyone’s lead and got into position, forcing myself to hold my face mere centimetres from where the train would come flying past. The noise was much louder now, and I could see light coming from around the tunnel’s corner, it was almost upon us. Suddenly it was there, a huge mechanical monster zooming past us at incredible speeds, giving us glimpses of people sitting in lit carriages, tired commuters with no idea of the marvellous underground world that they were passing through. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone, and all I was left with was my rapidly beating heart and cheeks that were both cold from the swift wind and flushed from excitement.

Em gave me a knowing look, and nodded approvingly, “Welcome to the club,” she said with a grin.

We spent a couple of hours traipsing around the underground railway system, moving from niche to niche while keeping a wary ear out for approaching trains. Several more went past us as we went, and this time I had out my camera, snapping some gorgeous shots of streams of light in the otherwise darkness. I was kept constantly in wonder of the industrial beauty of the place, and found myself longing to explore some of the areas that the others were talking about. Abandoned hospitals, drainage systems, old factories, underground rivers, disused mines, and even sewers; it was as if I had suddenly discovered a whole new world that I hadn’t even been aware existed.

The forgotten, broken beauty of the place was stunning, and I could only imagine some of the old historical relics that could be found at some of the other areas of urban exploration. Of course, Em informed me, that even among those with an often illegal hobby such as ours, there was still a general rule of take only pictures, leave only footprints, but that was fine with me.

After a while we made our way back up to the surface, where we discovered that it had long since grown dark, and went our separate ways. As I walked by myself along the dimly lit sidewalk, I wondered whether those I passed had been doing anything as thrilling as I. Looking around me, I could see the bustling city, and I felt a strange sense of awe in the knowledge that I had just been underneath all of its towering skyscrapers and busy freeways. I wondered whether the feelings I was experiencing, of a whole new world all around me in the places where no one else could bother to look, was similar to what the explorers of old had felt.

Was I be one of the first to wander the streets of my own city and stop to search for the hidden places and forgotten treasures of history? Or was I simply just one in a long line of vagrants who had felt in them a burning desire to satisfy their ravenous curiosity? Reaching the bus stop, as I stood waiting, a startlingly appropriate line from Tolkien sprung to mind, “not all those who wander are lost”. This made me laugh, and as I boarded the bus and made my slow journey home, I knew that this new hobby I had acquired would be about as ephemeral as the places it entailed.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A HOLOCAUST VICTIM

by Sarah T.

The marching never stops, day and night they are always strutting around in their hideous, painful combat boots.

The screams never cease; they haunt my very dreams and lurk in the shadows of my every thought.

They say that it will soon be over, that soon we will get out of this wretched place…but I know better, I know it is a lie. There is no escape.

They will continue to starve us until our stomachs can take no more agony, they will continue to make us work until we wish we were dead, they will continue to destroy and massacre every joyous thought that we ever did possess. The fierce, sick and inhumane beasts will continue to tear families apart, shattering any and all hopes of seeing our loved ones just one last time. But worst of all, they will continue to completely eradicate the very existence of those of us who once wore the Star of David.

The murders, ohh so many murders. So many bodies lying dead and decaying, one on top of the other in a naked, tangled mess. The innocent men and women who were my friends and family now lie at the bottom of a mass grave, disfigured and forgotten. These murders could only have be carried out by a monster, a monster searching for the “perfect” Arian race, a monster who doesn’t believe it is wrong to kill innocent human beings simply because they’re different. This holocaust, this gross destruction and waste of human life, leaves me empty. I no longer have the ability to fight, to stand up for what is right. I feel as if I am alone in this cruel and unjust world.

I can’t take this pain and suffering anymore, I can’t bear the thought of living another day. Every part of my being is wasting away and my life feels as if it has been dragged out long enough. Every night I merely sit and pray for the day when the Lord will let me join him. I pray for all of those like me who have done nothing wrong, nothing but follow the religion that we believe to be true. This will be the last time I put my words down on paper. Some of the other men have heard rumors that we are going to have a “shower” tomorrow. Unfortunately, we all know what that means.

MEMOIRS

by Michelle Dong

I could feel the pain in my chest as I fought to keep my tears inside. I watched my wife as she so desperately denied being married to me. Her grey hair tied up into a bun, dressed in a hospital gown while arguing with the doctor. It had only been a week ago when we were about to celebrate our 50-year anniversary when she decided to tell me about her getting Alzheimer’s disease. Now she couldn’t even remember who I was or even the fact that she had a daughter and a grandson.

A smile appeared on my face as I remembered the first time we met. I could still see her smile when I introduced myself to her at the beach. It was a dare from my friends to go meet the chick; they said I didn’t

have the guts. I still remembered thinking that she was so much more beautiful close up. Her green eyes sparkled with the dreams of the young as she ran her hand through her dirty blonde hair. Her surfboard was pressed into the sand next to her and when she talked it was like a million melodies were playing all at once, harmonizing to make an amazing sound. At once, I knew I had fallen for her.

My gut told me she had an interest in me too and it was confirmed after going on a few dates with her.

She was the head photographer for a magazine and she loved animals. We found out that we were almost complete opposites though we were fine with that. She liked the icing of cupcakes and I liked the base so we worked perfectly.

Even we had many fights, we even broke it off for half a year before realizing that we couldn’t live without each other. I silently laughed at that thought. She was gorgeous and I could never help but feel a little insecure but I learnt that it was fine to trust in her completely. When her magazine became a big deal she had to go to Paris, but I couldn’t go with her because of my big project in America. We kept writing letters though, hand-written. She suggested it because she said that there was more emotion in it.

I could remember when we agreed to move in together and when I had proposed to her. I smiled at my clever, young self. On Valentine’s Day I had put our engagement ring in the box inside a Valentine’s balloon.

Luckily it had gone my way and she somehow accidentally popped the balloon. She threw her hands in the air only to catch a box and find me on one knee. My exact words were ‘Rachelle Tanner, we have dated for the last five years, would you like to be married for the next fifty?’ I smiled and to my relief she had screamed yes.

Our wedding was a classic wedding. White was everywhere, her dress, the cake, the flowers, the decorations. I could still feel her hands trembling as I put my family heirloom onto her finger.

After a half year marriage we decided to have kids, originally we wanted two but it didn’t really go as planned. Without even realizing it our daughter had quickly matured into a woman and started her own life.

With her taking after her mother more than myself she was quite the beauty with the brains. Those days my wife cried a lot, from happiness of course. She was so proud of our daughter and what we had achieved together.

We had retired together, the day that our daughter had a baby. She had asked for our help to look after our grandson. My wife literally never went anywhere without the little newborn, even after he had started school. Though I had to agree with her, he was the cutest little boy and he wasn’t too mischievous.

I watched the love of my life thrash around in her hospital bed as her grey hair started loosening in her bun. She was still the most beautiful woman ever. Her green eyes were still sparkling, not changing after all these years of hardship. I could just look at her for the rest of my life and I would die smiling, knowing that my whole life was dedicated to being with her.

She stared at me with confusion as I started making my way towards her. My daughter was a bit surprised since she was probably expecting me to have left in all my sadness. My wife had stopped talking or even making a noise, focusing her whole attention on me coming closer. She flinched a little as I reached for her hand. I knelt on one knee and knew exactly what I was doing. I gave her a reassuring smile and saw her blush a little.

‘Rachelle Tanner, would you please go out with me?’

THORN FOR THORN

By Jessica Darke I try to ignore the trickle of blood, dripping, drop by drop. The salty taste of bile piercing my throat doesn’t bother me. The shivers down my spine, lining up, one by one, prickle by prickle, almost forces a cry.

But I don’t speak. I won’t. I won’t give in to temptation. The rustle of the potato sack threatens to force it out of me. The smell of satisfaction, the grin upon that man’s face as he sneers down upon his merciless victim, is all I can focus on.

I wince at the squelching sound of leather against the patter of mud, the image of calloused hands gripping the prickle of rope, tightening it, leaving no room for error. And then finally, the sight of trembling boots lonely in their tracks, almost like a lone flower in Hell’s garden, his legs long stems of woeful memories.

“3, 2, 1!”

“No!” I scream, grimacing at the whoosh of ropes, the bellowing cheers, the piercing cries of an infant.

His body hangs there, swaying back and forth, back and forth, in the wind. A throttling pain jolts my neck, churning and twisting its blade. The applause is deafening, hacking at my stem, yanking at my roots.

His name was Greg. All he needed was a woman to love, a rose to water and preen before his final days.

Now he is dead.

Gregory Blackett, or Black Heart as they used to call him, Criminal No. 4564, guilty for crimes worse than death.

“Oi princess,” he used to snigger, “move your sweet cheeks and show us what you’re made of.” I wasn’t one to love Greg - a bitter-toothed oath, in my opinion. His fowl language didn’t rustle me in the slightest. I’d topple him in every fight, leave him kicking and bantering until the prison guards dragged him across the rodent ridden floors.

This one particular incident sticks in my mind, a few years back. We were in charge of emptying the bedpans and Greg thought it would be hilarious to pocket a little and mix it with my morning brew. Well I sure gave him a beating. No point taking risks with me, I’ll prick ‘em every time.

Yet, among his banters and cries I noticed something; a crimson beginning to blossom from under his shirt, dripping drop by drop like the petals of a sullen rose as it begins to wither. I watched his chest rise back and forth, rising and falling as if the wind had blown. Suddenly, Greg Blackett was no longer the menacing criminal of unimaginable crimes, but a lone flower with roots of angst and vulnerability. Now I may be

imagining things, but I am sure I can recall a wiggle to his hips as he stumbled to his feet, a glint in his eyes, an almost purposeful brush of the arm. As if beneath those bushes of black was a gleaming red bud just waiting to bloom.

That started it, it did. I began to notice things, call me crazy if you will, but suddenly my serves of morning brew began to grow, inmates began to allow me to cut the line for our weekly baths and my jobs, no longer causing my face to scrunch in disgust, included the weekly priming of the rose bush, ‘the ultimate deceivers’ as some like to call it.

Yet, as I look back at the barren landscape that is my love, I realize that love never bloomed, and my heart will be forever ridden with the thorns of disappointment.

I still wince at the thought of him, his soul the blackest rose I had ever come across. Never again will I cut aside my protective gloves, only to be thawed at my finest. Left standing there, my veil draped across the stone cold marble staircase, a thousand eyes glaring as the clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked. My cheeks flamed with fury as I stormed out of that God forbidden hall, crunching petals as I walked.

No man is to be trusted, me thinks, each and every one lures you in with their cunning compliments and floundering flattery, only to prick you with their thrashing thorns, kicking soil until your eyes water as they leave you wounded and lonesome, peeling off your dignity, strip by strip, layer by layer, bud by bud. Thorn for thorn, never will I guide a man to the passage of my heart.

He’s alive!” someone screams. “He’s alive!”

My body jerks into motion. The rope lies bristled on the floor, his figure crunched in a pile of leaves.

“Do it again!” they scream. “Do it again!” they beckon pleadingly.

“3 times and God have grace he’ll live. 3 times and he walks a free man” I whisper. The Thrice Hanging Rule – 3 times and God’s his savior, 3 times and the rope is dismantled. The next moments are a blur - the wind of time repeating itself, the rustle of the sack, the squelch of boots, the calloused hands. $ “3, 2, 1!” they chant in perfect harmony, trampling on each others’ feet like weeds.

“No” I gasp, stumbling into a stampede of strangling men. There he lies, the frayed and broken circling his rumpled figure. 2 strikes down, one to go.

“One more time, God have mercy, let him live one more time” I wail, tears pounding my cheeks like hail, their icy touch shooting through my veins. The crevices of the hanger’s mouth twitch in a grin, pulling, towing at the rope. He thrusts Greg into the loop like vermin, seething in revolution. Seconds away. Only seconds away. My ears squeal as the onlookers chant: I met a young woman whose body was burning I met one man who was wounded in love The audience lurch like predators, boxing their prey, licking their lips. My foot slams the floor, grounding rocks, its vibrations ricocheting across the stage. It’s time. They’re hauling him in, the crowd lurch forward, my heart thwarts against my chest. $

“3, 2, 1!”

The crowd goes silent.

d l r o W t n e r e f f i ABD y Jamie Chan A different world. This is what I see as I stare out in front of me. I blink my eyes and I propel myself forward, longing to reach it, but I can’t seem to get any further. Why can’t I get out? I sigh, discouraged. I tilt my head up to see the bright orange furry thing that is out today. It has not been out for a long time! I swish my tail to and fro to return to my little cave. This cave is extremely special to me. Nobody can see inside; it is my own private space. Suddenly, the little boy with the dotty face tramples into the room. When he tramples in like this, I know that it is time to eat. I rush back, but hit my head again against the unknown barrier. The little boy sprinkles little flakes of food from a white thing into the water. I drive upwards to gulp down my food. The boy lowers his head to look inside my territory and I stare back at him. Then he leaves and I feel sad as he turns and walks away. Finally, I am able to return to my cave. I snooze a little bit and dream of all the wonderful things I could do when one day, I can reach outside!

I am woken by a vigorous shake. Curiously, I move outside and ask the big gnome sitting outside my cave.

“What was that?”

The gnome just stood there and smiled. Why did he always look the same? The same red hat, green jacket and blue pants. I felt a few strong shakes again. I begin to get suspicious so I waded around the outskirts of my home. Once I have explored all around it, I notice the big orange fury thing sitting outside my territory. I look up. Oh no, not again! I have told it so many times not to come here, but it does not listen. The furry thing dips its paws into my home as I rush between the seaweeds that frolic in the water for protection. I am so tired so I snooze for a bit between the green leaves. This time, I had nightmares of being eaten by the furry thing. Soon, I wake up and notice that it is dark. I slide back into my cave where it is safe and where no furry things can eat me.

The next morning I wake up, eat, exercise and talk with the gnome. Strangely, it seems extra quiet today. My stomach begins to rumble and I scan around the pebble floor for any leftover food. I accidentally suck up some small pesky pebbles which I immediately spit out. I continue to scan the ground and then unexpectedly, the furry thing reaches its paws inside nearly and grips me. Luckily, I manage to get away fast enough so I don’t get caught. I rocket right into my cave and think hard about this ordeal that occurs to me everyday. Finally, I came up with a daring plan and decide that I will perform it the next day.

The next morning, I leisurely pace around my home, waiting for the time to execute my plan. I am ready. I back off to the far end of my territory and propel forward as fast as I can. This time, not forward but upwards. I leap gloriously out of what was my territory. I am flying for one second, and then on the ground the next. I find it hard to breathe, and I lie there aimlessly. Then I see a dark shadow above me. It is the furry thing. It opens its mouth and gulps me down.

What Matters Competition CURRENT AFFAIRS EDUCATION IN AUSTRALIAN HIGH SCHOOLS

by Annabel Webb

Throughout history, Australia’s remote geography has always had a diminishing impact on the part that our country has been able to play on an international scale. However, since World War II, encouraged immigration and the resultant massive increases in multiculturalism have advanced Australia’s global standing. Also, our geographical proximity and trade links to Asia mean that technological, economical, and political developments in countries such as China, Japan, Korea, Taiwan and Singapore have affected not only the way that the rest of the world sees Australia but how Australians value themselves as part of the world. It is now completely viable to say that the current and future leaders of Australia do and will contribute not only to Australasia and the Pacific, but also to the rest of the world, and this power will only continue to grow.

However, I feel that many of today’s teenagers are not being given the guidance and grounding needed to allow them to become the leaders that this country will need as we progress into a world in internationalism.

School is still where teenagers get the footing needed to kick-start the rest of their lives as global citizens. A simple interest in English can grow into a career as a renowned journalist; someone with an interest Maths could become the inventor the next great piece of technology; an interest in Biology could lead to great medical discoveries that benefit every single person on earth. There is no telling what today’s high school students could be capable of.

Yet our generation is constantly though of as ignorant and selfish – certainly not traits desirable in future leaders. Which asks the question – why? The answer lies in our education. Despite television, the Internet, and other media, school is still where teenagers get the majority of their information, which is why I feel that including International Current Affairs as a subject on the school curriculum would be extremely beneficial.

It would help put a stop to the ignorance that older generations so often complain about. Teenagers with an interest for leadership, politics and international affairs have a hard time finding anything to feed this interest as at many schools there is no obvious outlet for it, meaning that they pour their passion into another subject, leading them off the path to becoming the effective and successful leaders that Australia – and the rest of the world – needs. Allowing them to find their niche at school like those passionate about Art or Music or Drama or Science are able to would bring forth a new generation of leaders who are able to guide Australia as the world moves forward at a constantly accelerating pace. We cannot forget that someone sitting in a classroom somewhere right now will one day be Australia’s Prime Minister.

FREEDOM

by Rosalinda Raiti

Freedom is taken for granted. Do we really realise the grand amount of opportunity we have living in Australia? Everyone deserves the chance to be educated, to be safe, to vote and freedom of speech. Not everyone has these opportunities. Even in Australia’s history, during World War One and the Vietnam War where conscription was a major issue. The rights and freedoms of Australian’s has changed throughout the years and we are so lucky.

I believe that we do take things for granted. For example, we have information at our fingertips. Do we take advantage of that? Or do we just get all our details from the first website that we see? This freedom of information is amazing, the way we can search issues with results appearing in less then a second. Think back, back to when our parents were children. Did they have this advantage? No, they had to go to the library to find information. When was the last time that you went to the library to search for a school assignment?

We can freely talk about our government and our government policies. Our society can debate for or against what is implemented. This freedom of speech is important as we can voice our opinion via radio for example, and we won’t get fined. People in other countries can’t do this. For example, In China censorship is an issue. Many internet sites are banned and journalists must undergo tests before they can be licensed.

We can connect with people around the world within seconds via social networking rather then using the old-fashioned telephone. Back when our parents used to hand-write assessment takes or even our grandparents using a type-writer. Look at this now! This competition name is ‘It’s Time To Write’ should it be changed to: ‘It’s Time To Type?’

We should just remember what we have and what others don’t. To build a better society, we should stop complaining how sometimes our internet takes too long to load and think how lucky we are to have internet to load. In the future, technology will improve, the world would be a different place. Will we forget how lucky we are? Will we forget our opportunities? In this day and age, as Australian Citizens, we are lucky to have freedom of speech, to be educated and we should appreciate everything we have. Don’t take freedom, liberty, privacy, wisdom, growth and security for granted. Acknowledge it.

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RECKLESS REASONING

By Jessica Darke

Pictured Above: An onlooking policeman stands before the fires lit by refugees at Villawood Immigration Detention Centre (Sydney, Australia.)

Sirens blast as firefighters surge through the city of Sydney. The cries of infants are muffled over the crackles of flames. Through the vicious glare of fire, tiles are thrust at the surrounding riot squad while the rampant protesters scream out their demands to those that will listen.

The Boat People. Asylum Seekers. Refugees. The Labor Party and The Liberal Party often recklessly throw about this humanitarian issue, using the fate of these people to win the votes. According to the United Nations Refugee Agency, a refugee is a person that has been forced to leave their country due to persecution, war or violence. The word â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;forcedâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is emphasised. Their decision is not subjective, so surely their acceptance in Australia is a certainty. Yet Ms. Gillard and Mr. Abbot seem to regard the matter otherwise. They fail to see that the fate of these people matters. " Any student educated within Australian walls has been informed about the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788. The Indigenous People of Australia occupied the country, yet Europeans colonised the nation and claimed it as their own. This led to the mistreatment of Aboriginals, including the Stolen Generation of

Australia. Previous Prime Minister Kevin Rudd delivered an apology for attempting to assimilate Aboriginal children into White families, deemed a turning point for Australian race relations. Yet, on the contrary, we treat people attempting to peacefully live within society, as opposed to colonising the country, as a pressing issue, and attack our governments for showing any sign of sympathy. $ From the Liberal perspective, these people are inconveniences waiting to be removed. The core Liberal policy comprises of â&#x20AC;&#x153;safely turning the boats around.â&#x20AC;? The statement in itself is an oxymoron.

As a country, it is not a risk worth taking to place the lives and security of these people on our back, crossing our fingers that they will return to their threatened homes alive. The Liberal Party attacks Labor for abolishing the temporary protection visa, and instead offering permanent residences for eligible refugees.

According to Mr. Abbot, this is an opportunity for people smugglers. People tend to forget that the refugees being dealt with are human beings, and the concept of a country that views the acceptance and refusal of refugees as a business matter is morally wrong. " This is not to say that the views of Labor are worthy of applause. Ms. Gillard may deserve some praise for her wider acceptance of refugees and more extensive investigation as to their eligibility to live in Australia. On the other hand, the Labor party is investing our time and money into establishing offshore detention centres. In the eyes of Labor, although previously introduced by the Howard government, offshore detention centres are out of sight and hence out of mind. The fact is, without compulsory detention, we would not be pressed with the issue in the first place. We would also be regarding their lives as matters of worth. " The Greens oppose mandatory detention time and offshore detention time, and for this they are to be commended. They do, however, lack the needed support from either major party on this matter.

Australians seem to be concerned with tightening our restrictions on refugees. In relation to a proposal by Greens Senator Young to cap time spent in detention, there was no obvious support present from either major party. What truly is incredulous is the notion that these people in distress are people to be feared, and that their standards of living are not important. $

It appears in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s society the fate of refugees is not a great concern. To this I object. The fate of refugees matters, and we are legally obliged to welcome them into our community. So, in regards to the two major political parties I say, stop turning around the boats, limit captivity to those who genuinely threaten the public and manage these people with the uttermost care before riots and fires break out once again. The fact is, the fate of refugees matter.