Another year has begun and despite music camp being on at the same time, we had forty attendees! I was so chuffed. I was even happier at the warm welcome our Grade 7’s received and the caliber of writing that was shared made the afternoon memorable. I for one am really looking forward to this year.
I am going to post some of the writing from Friday for your enjoyment. Thank you again to those who shared and gave such great critique. Our first piece is from Mary Miller, last year’s Writers’ Captain and this week’s bonus member. We welcomed Tia back too. It is wonderful that Writers stil lhas a place and value that extends beyond the ordinary school life.
Don’t be afraid to be Significant Mary Millar Writers’ Captain 2015 and College Graduate
As the reality of being a high school graduate is slowly coming together in my mind, I’ve realised that I have a lot to thank my school for.
In primary school, I was one of the shyest people in my grade. I would hang around with the people I called friends like sand after a trip to the beach, and the words “Mary” and “meeting new people” would rarely be spoken in the same sentence, unless there was a “definitely doesn’t like” somewhere in the middle. So it would be safe to say that taking the leap into high school was one of the scariest experiences for eleven year-old me. The first people who even showed a slight interest in me were the ones I clung to, and perhaps it was this which what drove them away.
In another effort to not be without friends, among the many clubs I joined that first year was the choir, and I discovered that every year the Music Department would hold a music camp. I went on said camp, and on the second night they held a talent show, which was open to anyone. In an uncharacteristic twist, I decided to take this opportunity to do something a bit different, as the only thing I had ever done at these things was play the violin.
As you can hopefully understand, I was terrified at the thought of getting onstage and performing. I hesitantly voiced my intentions to some people who had invited me into their room, and they immediately egged me on. So I retreated to my own room and quickly made up a fairly simple routine to a song I had heard on the radio once and bought on a whim.
That night, as it was nearing my turn, my legs began to shake, and my low self esteem whispered the threat of inevitable laughter into my ear. But on the first day of school I had made a promise to myself that this time, it would be different. I would be different. It was an impossible promise, I thought. But a promise all the same.
I got on stage. I can still feel the intense heat of the stage lights and the silent anticipation as I crouched down, waiting for the first line of my chosen song to play.
Then it began.
The hall was silent for the first thirty seconds so I was beginning to have some doubts, then slowly people began to kindly clap to the beat in the off-beat way all crowds do when the clapping exceeds the volume of the music. My heart fluttered at this unexpected applause. I took a chance and did an improvised cartwheel in the middle of the song where there was only instrumental. I later found out from a recording someone (my now best friend) took that I failed miserably, yet the audience clapped and cheered anyway. Then the most amazing thing happened:
They began to cheer my name.
I remember beaming – actually beaming – as I heard them chant. I couldn’t stop the smile from showing on my face for the rest of the song – then the rest of the night. When I finished, people were cheering so loudly, and some people even stood up.
My heart soared. My head was so muddled with excitement that when I was asked how I came up with the dance I blurted out, “I copied it from TV”. My actual answer was going to be a little more detailed with some backstory of how I would imagine myself as these confident dancers and try to reenact what I saw on the screen.
It was that very moment where I could pin-point everything changing for me. Fast-forward five years into the future, and I am a completely different person. I spontaneously volunteer to help out, I’m raising my hand to get up in front of people and do things, I am unafraid to be in the spotlight, and the cohort I have grown up with were the ones to help me along that journey.
If you told past me what I am like now, I’d most likely tell you you were lying (or at least vigorously shake my head in refusal). I would think that current me was a vision in some farfetched dream, or something that existed purely in my imagination. But that night I became my alternate self, and it was all thanks to my high school community.
I have now learnt that coming out of your shell is one of the best things you can do. In fact, if not for that choice I would’ve been a completely different person. I could’ve just been background noise, forever spending my high school days in the library, reading book after book while sneaking in my lunch to avoid the shame of sitting by myself.
I guess all I can say is: take the plunge into the deep end. Be crazy. Embarrass yourself. Stand up and try, because it’s always better to try and say you did, than say you wish you could have. Don’t be afraid to be significant, because then you will have so many regrets, and the lost opportunities will haunt you forever.
Today, I browsed my college magazine with a heavy heart, and I slowly realised I would never see them again. I would never again see the people I had grown so close to, never again see those who had been so kind and so encouraging to me, and I hope that I had done the same to them. There are only a handful of words I can leave them with now, and I wish them from the bottom of my heart:
Thank you, and good luck.
Sarah Doyle Yr 12- Remember?
The days are boring without you. People are just pleasant. Nobody is furious, or devious, or passionate, or restless. They’re all just placidly pleasant. I’ve tried talking to them. I went to one of those parties that you always wanted me to go to. But all they talked about were boys. I didn’t really get the appeal. None of it could ever be as fun as jumping into icy creeks with you; screeching at the cold before propelling ourselves back onto the rocks. It’s wasn’t quite like arguing with you about the colour of the sun; trying to make a decision before it slipped from the sky. It couldn’t compare to thundering down gravel streets with you. Cold wind stinging our cheeks. Your thin cardigan flying behind you like a cape. You looked like a superhero that night; arms flung out behind you. Maybe you were. But superheroes are invincible, aren’t they? And you weren’t invincible.
Ella Hambleton Yr 10 – December
Another year gone by, faster than the last.
The days are longer, hotter and slower, but the weeks go by like the shimmer of a leaf in the morning sun.
December starts sluggishly.
The memories of classes, of teachers, of assignments and tests, all washed away by the blissful call of a magpie at 10 in the morning, I can finally sleep in.
The start of school is further than the end, no need to worry, no need to rush.
My body sub-consciously prepares itself for the rush of the festive season.
December is busy shopping centres, gifts hidden haphazardly under the bed, the snap of sticky tape and the rustle and rip of rolls of wrapping.
December is the musty smell of a fake Christmas tree, and a happy squint of the eyes at memories of holiday’s past.
December is two weeks spent on the sand, stumbling, dripping and content out of the rumbling ocean.
December is not the wonder of a white Christmas, but the lazy breeze that blows away the humidity and the heat.
December is pavlova and roast chicken, bonbons and paper crowns, family and friends and the splash of children racing to the pool.
A call at 9 at night from family abroad, listening to tales of snow and cold.
Presents posted weeks before arrive just in time.
The heat we feel is not from the crackle of flames but from burning rays of sun. Its easy to appreciate our ozone layer in December.
I love the thickness of the air, the grass that crunches brown under bare feet, the constant buzz of crickets and the sweat that seems to cling to the skin.
December is the month of late sunsets, and cool drinks.
December is the perfect way to celebrate another year gone by.
Thanks!
MSM Writer's Club Stimulus 