International Women's Day (and thank you teachers)

I've never been much of an outspoken feminist, but I've never put up with anything (or anyone) that says 'you're not a man, so you're no good'. I've always told off the boys who made throwaway sexist remarks, but that's the extent of my feminist leanings.

There have been a few times in my life when I've done something that I wasn't expected to do because I was female. I was always surprised when I got that reaction, because I was just trying to do things that interest me.

Like when I was in high school. As they still do, in year 9 and 10, schools give you a choice of elective subjects. While I was interested in cooking and did that elective, I was also interested in metal work, so I signed up for that for a while too.
I was the only girl in the class, but got along really well with the boys in there. The girls, of course, gave me a hard time, but I didn't really care. I enjoyed it, and I did pretty well too (god knows what I ever did with the plumb bob that I made!)

And then when I had worked at the cinema for a while, I decided that I'd like to be a projectionist. I was fascinated with the projectors and the way the sound worked, and how everything worked so well together. Plus, at the time it was the closest I was going to get to working in the movie industry (I had vague ambitions of going into film editing, then directing).
When I asked about it, everyone told me that 'women aren't projectionists'. Full stop. They couldn't tell me why, except that the boxes of film were really heavy. They were, but only as heavy as a child. So managable.

Being the stubborn sort that I am, I nagged persevered; putting the pressure on until finally they decided to give me a go. Apparently, I was the first woman in Australia to take on the job.
And, once again, I was good at it. I was really good at it. In a couple of years, I had been promoted to head protectionist, and was training everyone else.
Eventually, I got sick of the solitude. I don't think that was a necessarily 'female' problem, more of a 'Mel' problem. I like people. So I moved back downstairs into management (which I also did very well, thank you!), and then went off to uni.

Funnily enough, I'm now working in one of the most female dominated professions in the world. Teaching.


And today, on International Women's Day, I'd like to salute teachers. Especially female ones, but really every teacher.

As you know, I have moved away from the classroom. For me, it was too big an investment of my time, and most of all, my emotional energy. I might return there soon. But probably not to a primary school classroom.

Secondary teachers have to deal with ratty teenagers and all that's associated with them, but being a primary school teacher is hard work! You are responsible for a group of up to 35 students for a whole year. Their 'life' is in your hands for that whole year. If you don't get them where they need to be by the end of that year, it's your fault. You may have changed the course of their life.

It sounds dramatic, and it probably is (this is me we're talking about!), but sometimes it is like that. There is so much pressure from so many directions: the community at large, the principal, the education department, other teachers, the students, and most of all, parents.

But teachers do it every day. And all the teachers I know do it really well. And it's not just teaching kids to read and write, it's a whole lot more: social skills, appreciation of the world beyond theirs, art, music, performance, maths, manners, ICT skills, problem solving, critical thinking, environmental responsibility, science, languages, construction...etc. For some students, teachers provide their only smile for the day, a compliment, a meal...

I couldn't do it. It was too much pressure, too much responsibility. Perhaps because of Sam. But maybe it would have happened anyway.

So I take my hat off to everyone who can. So often, you're told what you're not doing right. Today I'd like to tell you what you are doing right. You're teaching. You're doing a job that everyone thinks they know how to do, but probably couldn't. Especially not for the money they'd earn for doing it.

Well done teachers. You are awesome.

A Sam Birthday

Yesterday ended up, once again, being a lovely day.

In the morning, we listened to a few Sam songs, and had a bit of a cuddle and a cry.

Around lunch time, 3 of Anthony's brothers turned up with their partners. We had a lovely hour or so chatting, drinking beer and eating the types of junky food that Sam loved (fairy bread, sweet chili philly, chips and lolly snakes).

A couple of hours later, a big group of Sam's friends turned up. By then, we had lit a fire in the backyard, and they sat around chatting and watching as Oliver and his friend cooked marshmallows (then, possibly because the bigger boys were prompting them - grapes, bread, tomatoes, they even tried a Tim Tam...)

After a while, Oliver got out a bag of water balloons that his friend had brought around, and all the boys (Sam's friends as well as Oliver, his friend and Anthony) had a fairly decent water fight.

My parents and Anthony's other brother came around as the water fight was winding up, and then, after all of them had left, my best friend Sally and her son Jack came over, topping off a lovely day.

Sam would have loved it. Good friends, family, great music (we played a playlist of his songs all day), yummy food and a water fight. A very fitting way to celebrate his 15th birthday.

We were very impressed with his friends, who not only had the idea to come over, took 3 hours out of their Saturday afternoon to spend with us, and then included Oliver and his friend in a game. They are such nice kids (I know I keep saying that, but it's true!), but then again, Samuel wouldn't have been friends with them if they weren't (I know, I keep saying that too!)

So if you're reading this, thanks for turning up. A couple of people didn't, because they obviously have some issues. But hey, it's their loss. We had a great day.

Wish You Were Here

For the last couple of weeks, I've been spending a lot of time at schools. Many of them high schools. In the months after Sam died, I reflected a little more on teenagers, and how wonderful they (especially Sam's friends) were. After yesterday's conference, I am utterly convinced that we're in pretty good hands. They've really got their heads together (most of them), and I know they will contribute a lot to the world.

But of course while I'm observing all this, I'm aching for Sam, and what he could have been. Sam was already showing signs of social conscience, good skills with money, and even some leadership qualities (he had an ability to bring all sorts of people together, mainly through his acceptance of all kinds of people). Every day I regret that I'll never see his life fulfilled.

Sometimes, it's harder to live without Sam than at other times. It's like the grief (or the feelings of loss) comes in waves. There was the horrible emptiness at the beginning, the absolute disbelief that he was gone. Then, we adjusted to that, and could go on with life a bit. In those times, it was a little easier, because we were busy getting on with things.

But now, it's the enormity of it. That he's never coming back. That he won't be getting his license soon, or heading off to University (I like to think that he would have - science maybe?), or finding his first love...

It's different of course. It's not as crippling as it was in the early days. I can still laugh and work and actually face the world (I didn't leave the house at all for the first few weeks). But it's there, in the background, jumping in every now and again. When I least expect it.

Today's Sam's birthday. Last year, we had a nice day with family and friends. This year, they'll come over again. But I'm not nearly as organised. Anthony is halfway through the kitchen renovations, so there's no oven and lots of mess.

But it will be a nice day, because we'll be thinking of Sam.

Happy Birthday Sam

Wish you were here.

Chattin' with the Minister...

For the past few weeks, I've been working on a big project. I've been organising a video conference.

What's a video conference? I'm glad you asked!

It's basically a conference (or conversation) that takes place over the internet (or similar): where all the participants can see and hear each other.

This particular video conference was about cyber safety, and is related to a bigger event that I am helping to organise, which involves students from many schools. The video conference took place today, as a 'warm-up' for the bigger event in a couple of weeks time.

It involved getting together the local Minister for Education with a bunch of students from schools across the city. Then connecting them all together on the internet and getting them to have a conversation.

And they did! There were technical issues (we are talking school/government internet after all!), but they all had a pretty great conversation about some very important issues, and I think everyone got a lot out of it. It even got some good coverage on the nightly local news.

A heck of a lot of work was involved, in prepping everything, briefing the kids and the minister, and, just getting things to work. But it went off OK. And I organised it. I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself tonight.

Mama Bear's Claws Come Out

To my dear readers: I'm probably going to bombard you with posts over the next couple of days: lots to say, but all unrelated. Nothing for it but to write, write, write!

I was very dismayed this Wednesday, when I got a phone call from Oliver's school, telling me that he had been 'kneed' in the groin.

For those of you who don't know, Oliver had surgery on his testicles about two weeks ago. He was off school for a week, and had been back only 2.5 days when he was accosted by a child of, let's say, less than average social skills. Well, that's the only way I can think of to describe it. Who on Earth kicks other children, instead of actually trying to make friends?

I know, I should be understanding an nurturing - I'm a teacher after all - but this one got me all riled up. The protective mother within me leaped to the surface: it was all I could do not to march down to the school and drag the errant child out by his ear.

Oliver's OK. We think. We called the surgeon's office, but he's away until next week. My GP said he thought Oliver would be OK. Oliver himself said the pain wasn't that bad by the next day. But a part of me cries 'what if he has to do the surgery all over again?'; 'what if he can't have kids?'...

A couple of nights earlier, Oliver had told me that his friends were playing rough games at school: fighting, punching and kicking each other, and that he didn't like those games. I had told him to tell them 'stop it, I don't like it' (by god, I'm such a bloody teacher!), which is exactly what he did. His friends were playing rough, and he told them to stop. This other kid, who was really only hanging on the peripheral, came up and stuck his knee fair into Oliver's balls.
Bloody hell. Poor Ollie. From what people (men) tell me, it's hard enough getting a kick on a normal day, but two weeks after surgery??

Needless to say I went into mega-hover mode. But he seems OK. Me, on the other hand...not sure if this will ever get any easier...