night..

yes yes, it's so late.. the house is still.. PC in bed.. Dan just home from a movie.. "not bad" he says then his phone rings and he's off to his room leaving me alone in the kitchen.. footy's over.. I fell asleep in middle of the third quarter.. knew the Demons had no chance of pulling the game back from such a long long way..the best part of the night had been the thin black magic man who leapt and ran and fell in front of goal and booted the ball in sideways!!!.. he made his mark and they danced in their seats, his girlfriend up on her feet and his mum and dad and grandmother sitting there in one long line of Northern Territory colour smiling and taking him in and taking it in, the whole thing in, again.
and that was it for me, I lay back in a corner of the sofa and took the evening in like that..
and now in the kitchen at the table once again and with one click I'm back on a page of poetry.. an a to z of poets to be precise..though I never am I do not think..precise.. but here it is and here I am.. Heaney in Mossbawn Sunlight, even Dahl reading Little Red Riding Hood in a way that only a sly old fox could .. and both are good.. really good..and I mark them as favourites with the orange star at the side of the screen then something makes me look again and I find the name Ciaran Carson and knowing nothing click on this and Belfast Confetti comes up and Snow and I listen in awe here in the tick tock still of a kitchen in Gippsland and know as i know my fingers are finding these letters on the keyboard.. i've found another Irish mine..

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/trackListing.do?poetId=29

best part..

I was just watching a behind the scenes doco on the making of the movie Benjamin Button and the woman who played his mother said this-

"the best part of life is loving as much as you can while you're still living."

how good is that!

littleboywriting..

Teaching is full of marvellous moments.. take these-

by J.........
25.5.09
Today I lost my tooth. But I lost it doon the dran. I tried to get it aut but I kouldnt get it aut. I cried and cried and 2 big gols helpdt me to get it. But it was goon. Pepol said fget abot it. But I said I krnt. Pepol said Just think that you still have your tooth. So I tried and I did it. I was so prod of my saf.

1st.6.09
On Sunday I played footy. My Dad said write a letter to my sune wen he is 16 becos he will be rede to play for Carlton on tv. I love Carlton so much. I love woching Krusu on taley. I love woching Judd play and Fvola. I love Judd so much. Cats are dowing the best this yeur. If Carlton sday on the top 8 we will be in the Grand Fials.
I played footy and my dad said "you have inprovd" Footy is like the besdis thing in my liyf.

report thoughts...

For the last three weeks on my days off I've been writing reports. When I wake in the night more often than not I'm thinking of those litle kids working away at school..

In Victoria now, the report model that all schools are obliged to follow goes like this..
what the student has achieved...
areas for improvement/future learning....
what the school will do to support the student's learning.....
what you can do at home to help your child's progress...

For all the limitations there are in following a prescriptive format, in the end all I can do is try my best. One by one I go down the list.. Because I teach part-time I write 13 reports.. half the class of 27 - one of the boys is away for the term, travelling in Western Australia with his family.

Maybe it's because I've managed to finish over a week before the deadline or maybe it's the fact that somehow I've just put down what I know about each child, tonight I feel relieved. (My great fear every semester is that I won't know what to say...)

I slide the cursor up and down the screen and discover there's one more..

Frances finds it hard to run about or even hold a pencil so weak is her muscle tone.. She speaks softly too and in the busyness of the class it's extraordinarily hard to make out what she says. But I know she's happy.. the others take care of her.. pull out her chair, find her books, write letters for her, carry her lunchbox to her table. look after her on the playground.

Frances has settled into grade one very well. She has a gentle, friendly nature and is well liked by her peers. She brings out the best in everyone...


The last report I realise is a model of hope for the class..

sister on a string..

all I can say about this photograph is that there's a story attached to it.. I wish I could tell it here right now but the time's not right..
one day it will be..

once upon a winter's day..

They are working away merrily on this late April afternoon, chatting at their tables as they draw pictures about what they think life was like in the Olden Days. I go around the room seeing carts and candles, horses and campfires appearing on the page and as I pass beside the table just near my desk, one of the girls speaks.
"Nice boobs."
I stop and look at her.
"Sorry?"
"Nice boobs" she blushes. She's quiet and a little nervy and generally reluctant to speak up in front of the other children. It's only in the last couple of weeks that she's begun to come out of her shell. I lean my head towards her and cup my hand around my ear to show I don't understand. She tilts back and her eyes slide down to my legs and then I hear her. For the first time. "Nice boots" she whispers and I stare hard at the floor.
"Oh yes, they are, aren't they. Really nice boots.."

little recipe..

The first person I met when we moved into this street was a woman named Pearl. She lived next door with her husband, and not long after we arrived I saw them through the window of our sunroom sitting together on a wooden stool in the back yard. They sat close, like a couple of grey sparrows resting beneath the liquid amber tree.
Pearl introduced herself as we stood watering the front garden one morning.
I liked the light in her eyes.
A few months later her husband, Ewan had a heart attack and died. From then on Pearl lived alone. I’d hear her pottering about in the garden and if she was there while I hung out the washing, we’d talk to each other across the fence. One morning she grazed her ankle with a spade while she was digging. Later I went in to ask her to come for a drive with us – it was a hot day and we were going to the beach but she said she felt unwell and I remember seeing a pink bandaid stretched across her foot. The skin around the wound was puffed and shiny. She told me her leg felt sore and that a rest would do her good. It was the last time I spoke to her. By that afternoon her tongue had begun to swell and later the same day her daughter arrived and called for an ambulance to take her to hospital. She died a day or so later of tetany.

I never forgot her.

The morning I’d come home from hospital when Anthony was a baby she’d left a tray of lemon slices on the doorstep. The sun shone, a bird sang and Pearl produced morning tea.

She gave me the recipe for them and here it is:

Lemon Slice
½ lb Morning Coffee Bisc
3 ozs Copha
½ can Condensed Milk
½ cup icing sugar
1 cup coconut
Juice & rind 1 lemon

Method
Place ½ Bisc on a greased tin 9x9. Melt Copha, add milk, coconut, icing sugar and lemon. Mix well & pour over biscuits. Place rest of biscuits on top. When set, ice with lemon icing. Keep in fridge.

* Since Metric, the cans of Cond Milk are a little larger so barely ½ can would be sufficient. P.R.

Pearl's handwritten note is still intact though cookery books and magazines have gathered on top of it in the kitchen drawer. Her recipe endures. Old friendships are a bit like this.

20 things..

She writes a letter to me every week from the time I leave home in February 69 until she’s in her mid 80s. Macular degeneration.. Oh well, everybody’s got to get something she tells me. Her mum told her this.
Whistles to herself.
Loves the moon
Sleeps with a small black transistor under her pillow
Has an amazing memory
Tiptoes when she walks. Never gets used to walking in bare feet flat on the ground.
Wishes she’d learned to swim.
Eats slowly and not a lot.
Sits at the table with her chair half in half out
Always asks what time you left when you finally reach her door
Likes changing furniture around
Keeps up with the news
Remembers everyone’s birthdays. Sends cards with a couple of scratchies inside.
Hates losing things
Misses being able to read
Likes watching birds dipping in the birdbath outside her kitchen window
Is good to talk to on the phone
Loves music
Agrees with people
Misses my sister so much