I've been busy

Carols Callala Style

Carols ...

It was the same, it was different - but it was still fun!

Last year, carols was inside, with snow softly falling, a table laden with goodies to eat.  We sang Silent Night is six different languages.

This year we sat outside - in a light misty drizzle which was most untypical for the weather. We nibbled at our picnics and drank LOADS of champagne.

We sang Aussie carols. Noone requested 'In the Bleak Mid-winter'.

We did sing 'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas' and the lyrics rang truer than ever for my family.

Phew, we survived school, bring on Christmas

Is this an interview dress?

Mum and dad

The toll of battling Parkinsons is really telling on my mother. Although, she looks hollow and empty here in this photo, she can be quite jolly in real life. Her mind is slipping, she worries about phantom things (largely inspired by television I fear).She has lucid moments... but it really is more and more rare tobe able to have a coherent conversation with her. The main thing is comfort and diversion and a few laughs.

Looking south from kiama- everytime I go to visit my parents I have this view on the drive back. We live past the mountain, about 50 minutes from this spot.

Jacarandas on the drive home

For Catherine. They are past their prime but you get the idea. Its such a restorative drive home.

something I never had to do in Germany

... was sweep the dead worms out of the laundry.

Last week it rained so much that the ground became so water-logged that the worms sought refuge in the laundry.   It was also so wet that I didn't go into the laundry for several days (I was hibernating upstairs, wrapped up in a snuggly blanket, binge-watching Dr Who).

Today I swept out those worms.  They had dried up and stuck to the floor so it wasn't a great experience.  I'm hoping that it doesn't have any karmic repercussions.

Of course, if I am sweeping and vacuuming, this indicates that I have made SIGNIFICANT progress in clearing all those boxes.  Its a good feeling.  I'm starting to see clarity and order.  And that, in itself, is a very healing, calming experience.

When vacuuming the bedroom represents a major triumph

I have vacuumed the bedroom.  Almost 6 months after arriving back, this is the first time I have actually vacuumed my bedroom.

What makes this remarkable, is everything that has gone on before to achieve this feat.

1. Vacuum cleaner actually arrived from Germany unharmed.
2. I found the vacuum cleaner bags!!!  Hidden in one of the 120 boxes which also arrived from Germany.
3. We have carpet!! Lovely, new plush carpet that requires vacuuming.
4. I found enough floor space to warrant vacuuming: i.e.  I have cleared most of the boxes in our bedroom so that there is floor space that needs to be attended to.

Scattered on the floor were bits of confetti that escaped from the bag imported from Germany which was the freebie bag given out at the performance of Rocky Horror Show we attended for Isabelle's 12th birthday.

What I could not do was vacuum under the bed because our 'bed' is still a mattress on the floor because the crucial central support for the bed has gone for good. 

That is the cloud in my otherwise blue and sunny sky.

pizza ... or its all in the timing

We made pizza last night for the first time since we have been back.   We used to eat it once a week but, somehow, with all the renovations, no oven, new ingredients, we just hadn't put it on the menu.

We tried to make it 'just like old times' and to our taste buds it was pretty damn good.

But

Matthew's guests (it was his 17th birthday party) just wanted to know where the pineapple was ... and why anyone would put onion on a pizza ...

We hadn't thought of either of these points as a huge cultural difference but apparently they are.  We hadn't realised that we had absorbed so much of Europe as not to notice what wasn't normal.

Like our clocks.

'What's with all the 24 hour clocks?' the young men asked.  We looked ... we looked puzzled.  We hadn't though anything of it.  It was 20:10.  A fine pizza time.  But apparently we should've had all our clocks set to 8:10.  Well, that would just look weird to us.

Maybe we have really absorbed small bits of European life more than we had appreciated.

skipping stones and thinking about rocks

Son has been not feeling well. I'm still not sure whether it is the result of last week's stress (half yearly exams) or whether it is that bug that seems to be going round (all friends have had days off) or a combination of both ( most likely).

So he stayed home today.  He slept.  I worked.

He did start to feel a lot better around lunchtime so at about 2pm I made him put clothes on and walk to the beach with me.  The beach is about 300 meters away.

We went to one of my favourite spots: the gutter.  Its a rocky headland section - we walk down some stairs and we are on a rock platform. 

The sun was shining and the sea was crystal clear but the thing that caught our attention was the geology of the place.  Together we looked at all the different rocks, wondering how they had been formed and what their official names were.

Son then found some perfect rocks to skip - he searched the ponds trying to find just the right shape and tried his arm.  Of course there were some plonkers - but then others skipped and skimmed across the sea which just sent him in search of more 'perfect rocks'.

Then, to cap it all off, he found a fantastic (loose) rock with fossils all over it.  He has brought it home with him, declaring that he needs to take it to school and show his teacher.

It was a lovely hour together ... and it really was as though he was 7 and not 17.

virtually there

the kitchen is actually finished now - but I found this photo showing the floor in but the walls out ...

It seemed a long time before we got to this stage:

It really is finished now.  The range hood (extractor fan) is fully installed (so it has a shiny cover) and now the benches are full with cooking stuff.

And it works ... like a real kitchen ... and there is a definite change in our eating and our meals. 

meanwhile, in the garden ...

 The banksias are in bloom - I just love these weird plants with their phallic flowers ... and I'm not the only one.  The garden is full of birds trying to get their share!

the cheeky rainbow lorikeet

out the front garden

our can of worms ...

About three weeks ago, we started 'renovating' the upstairs.  We thought it would be as simple as taking out a wall and fixing up the gap in the wall and the ceiling:

Then we realised that that meant replacing the whole floor (as well as the kitchen) ...

Our builder is very obliging ...

then we realised that the sheeting on the walls needed replacing ... and that is where we are up to at the moment ...

I think my builder has stopped telling me about all the things that he really 'should' do to make the house okay ... I think he knows that we are all well past our limits ...

its been a while ...

its been a while since I last wrote ...

its also been a while since I saw all my stuff...

... but the stuff has now arrived.

Three burly blokes took just under 4 hours to empty two container loads of stuff.  They lifted boxes two by two - I swear those boxes each weighed over 30 kilos ... mostly books, music and stuff.

s

Result: having lived in a house devoid of anything, where the sound of our footsteps echoed through the passage, where we danced on the (new) floor, we now squeeze past 100 boxes as we struggle to find our beds.  (Actually - our much love bed seems to be missing the central support beam so Chris and I are still sleeping on a mattress on the floor.  We remain hopeful that the missing bit will reveal itself as we clear the stuff but we are loosing hope ...)

Isabelle is thrilled to have uncovered all her music stuff bits and pieces - her keyboard is set up with a view over the garden, her guitar is well within reach.  Don't tell her, but I can hear her as I lie reading on my mattress on the floor.

Matthew is hoping that if he sits at his computer long enough then the chaos will slowly resolve itself without him having to ever confront it.

 ... and I open boxes and find treasures and trash ...

its a good thing that I am surrounded by holiday houses - I can 'borrow' their rubbish bins, put all the unwanted stuff in it, and wave it goodbye on Tuesdays as the garbage guys take it away. (Don't worry - there is also a pile being saved for a car boot sale!) 

Going Green

I want to write about the environmentally-friendly ways that I live my life ... but not today.

Today, I split my time between tending to a couple of sick trees and my rather taxing essay that I am writing.

Eight years ago, Chris planted a West Australian Red Flowering Gum Tree.  It usually grows in sandy soil.  I'm telling you - we live by the beach but have the densest clay soil you are likely to ever see ... which meant that it was with amazing joy that I discovered the tree still standing on our arrival back in Oz last month.  It even had three small flowers (proving that it was, indeed, the same tree).

My thoughtful tenants had put house bricks around the base in order to protect it but I am afraid that this was exactly the wrong thing to do.  It needed space and nourishment.  It was being strangled by the grass (which, with the rain we have had, decided to put on inches and inches).

So I cleared the bricks away and filled in the gaps with rotting leaves.

I did the same to the lemon tree.


I used to try to grow plants on the balcony in GE.  It was hard work.  It was either too wet, too dry - or it stormed so violently that everything was destroyed by hailstones the size of ... well, the proverbial golf ball.

We have winds here ... and dry weather ... and unfriendly soil. 

But this time these are my plants and I am here to stay and look after them.

Do you think it will help if I talk to them?

mum ... its just a maths test ...

but this time it was my maths test and not theirs.

I've always tried to be supportive when it comes to tests (and goodness knows, they came along fairly regularly in the German system).  I've provided food, drinks, time, comfort and hugs on demand.  I've even learnt that staying away and not mentioning the test was often the wisest course of action.

Yesterday, I had my first maths test for about 33 years.  (I can do the arithmetic by mental calculation - by either split, jump or compensation method - just ask me how).

I multiplied, divided, considered equal fractions, and then drew diagrams explaining my thinking and working.

But the worst part was sitting there waiting for it to start. The last ten minutes - in the room, with my pens, my drink bottle, and the lecturer out the front trying to be cheery.  Everyone was there.  Why couldn't we we just 'pretend' it was 9:30 and start (and finish) early?

Those ten minutes ...

Seemed like thirty ...

Instead of staying calm a sense of panic rose: what if I haven't enough information about the theorists? what if there is a question about comparing the syllabi? what if I make a stupid mistake by rushing?

The clock ticked on ...

Should I try to get to the bathroom one more time ...

Then the papers get handed out.  We put our names, our numbers on all four of them (yep - all four papers - and Mr Bean springs to mind).

Finally, allowed to start.

I am just so glad I am not studying medicine ... I can't imagine the internal pressure before the exams.

here for the long haul

For so many years now, we have been touring the world, often on short stays.  Sometimes its been part and parcel of the opera singer life, other times its simply been as visitors to a new place.

I have walked into so many bare kitchens and have had to stock the cupboards - for a week, a fortnight or maybe a couple of months.  I've bought salt and pepper shakers knowing that if I left them, then the maids would just ditch them.  I've bought instant meals because buying the full array of herbs and spices was just not an option.

Now I am stocking this cupboard for life.  I'm putting cans on the shelf knowing that if they don't get eaten in the next couple of days, then I wont have to throw them out.  I can buy herbs in large quantities knowing that they wont go to waste.  I'm looking at flour and wondering what I will bake with it.

Now, as I reach for something on the supermarket shelf, I dont have to think about the waste when we move on - I just have to remember to use it before its shelf life expires.

I'm sure that there is a parrallel to be found here for life. 

fridge magnets

for the first time in many, many years, I find myself searching for fridge magnets.

I have to stick up the party invitation that Isabelle recieved today - its in a month's time.  Advanced notice!  I can't remember ever recieving almost a months notice for a party in Germany.  It was always 'Hey, Mum! Party tomorrow'  and then a mad rush to reorganise life, buy present and find outfit to wear.  (Isabelle is very fashion conscious).

Now I am accumulating advance notice for all sorts of things - Matthew's assignments, school dinners, community events.

I need these things visible.  Of course, I have a calendar and it is all written carefully into that but it is so much more fun, lively and obvious when it is stuck onto my fridge.

My dilemma now is ... do I go and buy a packet of matching (though nondescript) magnets?  or do I wait patiently and allow my magnet collection to grow, organically and naturally, just like I had done many years ago when the needs were not so urgent.

layer upon layer upon layer

or how we become better educators and teachers


Someone asked me how it was that I could go back to study something that I have been doing for so long.

Easy!

I trained as a teacher a long time ago.  It was so long ago that several of the 'now' major theorists were unknown then (Vygotsky for example).  Certainly it was before such things as 'backwards by design', 'whole language', 'phonemic awareness', 'multiple intelligences' (yes - I trained before Howard Gardiner wrote all his stuff), etc. etc. 

While I have always tried to keep well informed about what was considered 'best practice' at any given time, my learning has always been a bit like a patchwork quilt - snatches of fabric here and there (although, unlike most good quilts, my learning had significant holes in it and, just as a holy quilt doesn't do the job on a winter's night, my patchwork learning had left me with as many questions and unsureties as it had given me answers.

So I am learning.  I am mending my quilt.  Filling in the gaps.  Understanding not just what but why.  I'm also thinking - bringing my experiences to my learning to question what I am being told.  I am also aware that the PYP curriculum is even more cutting edge than what I am being taught so I am constantly mentally applying my learning to how I would be teaching in an IB school.

Its not boring.  Its not even frustrating.

Its a very thoughtful kind of learning and I am glad for the opportunity.

I can honestly say that I am NOT missing public transport

okay - I have a bit of a bad conscience about it.  I do believe people should use public transport and reduce unnecessary travel BUT ... I'm loving driving our little car!

I do not miss:

cold train platforms
morning crush
missing the tight connection
sitting next to someone unpleasant
not sitting but having to stand
thinking about leaving in time to catch the last train
not going somewhere because the Sunday timetable is so bad
rainy, cold bus stops


I do resent though:

having to think about what I drink in the evenings
having to pay for fuel
my kids thinking that I am a taxi

but for that I have

my own airconditioning
my own choice of radio station (the kids are plugged into their own machines so they don't care what I listen to)
my own choice of route
and speed



I know its not a great environmental choice - but here it is THE ONLY choice available.

and I'm loving it ;-)

talking education

Part of journeying back, is returning to uni to update my qualifications.  For many varied reasons, I decided to do a Graduate Diploma in Education (Conversion) here in the area where we live.  This is called a conversion course because it will allow me to teach primary in the state education system.  (Up to this point, I have been able to teach primary in independent and international schools as well as Music and English in High Schools).

We've been doing the course for two weeks now.  Two days on literacy, two days on numeracy and three days to reflect and revise and prepare.

My thoughts?  How am I coping?

The notion of being 'literate' has exploded.  The scope of 'language' is immense. And, because we have become a people obsessed with research and statistics, there are now good reasons to believe what educators are saying about not only 'good' but, more importantly, 'effective' practice.

Being literate now means not only pen and paper literate - it also means having understanding and power over the technologies of today; it means being critical of all the myriad of texts hurtling at us in daily life (texts in the very broadest sense of the word); it means deconstructing the messages behind what we encounter (we are teaching critical thinking for our media dominated world).

Is this different from what I have been doing? 

Well, in many ways my own educational journey has been leading me this way for a number of years. I have never been 'just the music teacher'.  I have always been interested in the bigger picture of education.  I have certainly been inspired by my recent experiences with the PYP (IB) programme.

I'm happy to now have the chance to consolidate my knowledge; to take time to think deeply about what I do as a teacher; to consider how I should prioritise learning in my classroom; and how I can help young people to prepare for what it to come.

I'm lucky.  Not many people get this chance.

when the postie knows your name

I came home yesterday and logged onto FB.  I had a message from a friend here.  She had written that she had just been at the local post office and noticed a package addressed to me that hadnt been delivered.


"oh yes" ... said Chris, " the post office manager came by this afternoon and knocked on the door.  (He lives three houses down ... I knew that because several people had filled me in on who now lives where.)

"there is a package addressed to Jenny Cork 64 Callala Australia.  is that you? its from Norway.  can you come and collect it tomorrow before it is sent back?"


The package has been sitting there a couple of weeks because it had no street address and the post office manager is new to the area.  It was going to be 'returned to sender' because he didn't know - but, thankfully, my friend Lynda stepped in and got the message across to him and to us.

... and I suspect it is NOT from Norway (although we have several people who had been to Norway recently - both Australian and German friends).  I think it is from my Danish friend Ann-Berit ... those Northern European countries are all the same, aren't they?

yep ... its wet

Last night I lay in bed waiting for the big winds to come.  It rained.  Boy, did it rain!  It bucketed down for hours and hours but the huge winds that, in our area, are the thing that cause the most damage, never came.

That meant that my trees are still standing and no branches have fallen.

Of course, further north, the story is much different to that and its hard to imagine that this country, so often ravage by fires and drought, is also the victim of flooding from violent storms.

The rain does mean that I will have to find a lawn mower ... and soon ...

its the dumb questions you have to ask

Having just spent 7 years in a country which takes their public holidays very seriously, its hard to work out what effect a public holiday has on life. 

Australia Day long weekend.  Australia Day is always 26th January.  This year it fell on a Saturday.  In D'land that would mean that the shops would be shut.  Commercial life would stop and everyone would duly go celebrate with loved ones in an appropriate manner (using involving either cake or beer, preferably both).

Here, the long weekend is a sacred thing - so Monday has been declared a holiday in addition to the Saturday.

So what happens here?  Three days with no shopping? Shopping on Saturday but not on Monday?  Or visaversa?

I really didn't know and didn't want to assume. So I asked around at uni.

My fellow students looked at me rather curiously when I asked them when the shops would be open over the weekend.

"Normal times ... duh!"

Normal times? So shut on Sunday, shut on the holiday?   No! No! No!  Open ALL the time!  For example, Officeworks (D'landers insert Staples here) is open Sunday 9am-6pm AND Monday (the long weekend Monday) for the same hours! (and they were open Saturday as well).

My whole family raised their eyebrows at this information.  Shopping?  Everyday?  Even on special days?  No hoarding ... no panic buying ... no grabbing the last milk from the shopper next to you? 

Not sure how we will deal with this information.

mateship

Its Australia Day.  A day where journalists explore the notion of what it is to be Australian.  One senior journalist has written about mateship - about how we, as a nation, help one another when needed; how its not just institutional but very personal help offered by individuals to those around them.

How very true.

Since our return, I have been overwhelmed by the offers of help I have recieved from my friends here in the area. People have dropped off unwanted sofas for us to sit on (they left them on the front lawn!). Some strong (and tall!) friends then got the sofa upstairs for us! Others have loaned camping tables and chairs.  Friends put together a care box of things we needed in the kitchen.  All these individual gestures - the support and the help - have made our restart here just that much easier.

When you a new - brand new - to a community, you don't have that help coming to you.  It can be tough.

I should remember that - help those who are new - not just your friends - because moving really is one of the toughest things you will ever do.

starting back

People say you should never go back.  You should never return to live where you lived before. Never search out the friendships you once had.  This is the story of my journey back - back to Australia, back to Callala, back to my family, back to my house, back to my friends.  It is about journeying back to study - to study officially many of the things I have learnt over the many years of teaching.

My journey has meant leaving people very, very dear to me far behind in a cold, distant land.  My friends brought warmth to the grey, damp days that northern Europe had to offer.  They brought sunshine to my life when I most needed it.

This blog is to help me chronicle my journey - to discover what is new in this old life of mine, to discover whether is really is possible to go back again.