Running

I have taken up running again after a long break. I had been thinking about it for a while, when Emily from emlykd the strange asked on Twitter if anyone wanted to do the Mothers Day Classic with her.  It was the perfect opportunity to start running, it gave me a goal to work towards, and some much needed motivation.

I stopped running after I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.  My then specialist warned me that running would impact a lot on my knee joints and I’d end up having major knee surgery.  I tried water aerobics, bike riding, pilates… but I didn’t like any of them very much and I didn’t stick at them.

I have been on medication for years, taking it daily. I’ve only ever had fluid on a knee once.  Even when I fell through rotten decking and tore ligaments and had deep bruising my knees survived intact.  I put it down to early diagnosis and constant medication.   I’m not running for miles and miles, I’m not running on sealed roads, having the luxury of softer dirt roads and well worn gravel paths near our home.

I used to be a good runner and sprinter.  There’s something about running as fast as you can for 100 metres –  it seamed like the world had stopped, it was just me, looking straight ahead, breath seemingly held, all instinct.

I loved cross country running too, running rain, hail or shine, getting into a steady rhythm, lost in thoughts with the steady movement of feet on ground.

So, after what seems like an age, I am running again, slowly at first, building up strength and endurance.  Spending time on my own, in my head, finding my breath and my rhythm once more. I am loving it again, and miss it when I don’t get a chance to run for a few days.

For me running is freedom… it’s as close as I get to flight, really it is my flight.  So thank you Emily, you have helped me get back to something I love.

Tags: running

We Remember

One year ago today, February 7th 2009,  Victoria was devastated by bush fires.

Black Saturday.

173 people died.  Men, women, children.
Over 2,000 homes were destroyed.
More than 5000 professional and volunteer fire fighters fought the blazes.
Over a month 450,000ha of land was destroyed.
Small towns were all but lost.
The words Kinglake and Marysville on everyones lips.

I cannot begin to describe the grief so many people felt, still feel.

I can not begin to describe the mood of Victoria as people returned to work on the Monday. A quiet sense of loss, shock, overwhelming sadness is the best I can do.  But is doesn’t come close.

The human spirit shone in the days after, an outpouring of support – financially, emotionally, physically.  This support was nation wide – it was the start of the healing process, visible to all.

The bush is recovering, green growth covering blackened trees and ground.  One year on we have continued on with  life, but many are still beginning again, rebuilding homes and lives.

One year on we remember.

Megan at Writing out Loud has also blogged about this day, you can read that here.

Tags: Black Saturday

My School – My opinion

Last week the Australian Government launched their new My School site.  The Government stated it will give parents and carers  information on their child’s school, as well as help parents and carers make decisions about which school to choose.  The results that have been published on this site for each public school are linked to NAPLAN testing.  This testing is carried out in grades 3, 5, 7 and 9 looking at the areas of literacy and maths.

My eldest child has taken part in this testing.  My youngest will do so this year.  Before I continue I need to point out I am a teacher.  I have taught from Kinder to grade 2, as well as taking on a role as a reading recovery teacher, and a role working with children on social skills.   My children attend a local government school. They have previously attended a private school.

While I understand parents want to arm themselves with as much information as possible when choosing schools for their children, I have a number of concerns about the way the information has been presented on the My School site.

The site shows each schools NAPLAN test results – so in essence the information in the site relates to literacy and numeracy.  In both primary and high school it relates to only two grade groups.  The results are from tests.  Tests in themselves hold a range of problems.  Testing is not always the best way to determine a child’s ability.

Tests are done in an artificial environment – some children work well to a test, others do not. Some children cope well with the stress of the relatively unknown situation, others do not.  Testing like this does not take into account factors such as (for example) whether or not a child has had a late night, is feeling unwell, has had a change in home circumstances that may be adding to anxiety levels. Tests such as this do not cater well for children that learn best through seeing and hearing someone explain a topic, or for children that will understand a question best through a hands on approach.  Tests such as this do not take into consideration multiple intelligences – that is the different ways people work to demonstrate their knowledge.  For example, some people do well with a written explanation, others do best visually, with diagrams or maps, others do best using concrete materials to solve a problem.

Testing such as this is only a small part of each child’s make up.  It is only a small part of each schools make up.  NAPLAN testing, and therefore the My School site take into consideration these literacy and numeracy results only.  Schools, however, are so much more than this.  Where in this comparison is any reference to The Arts? To Sports? To the way children with additional needs are catered for? Where is the reference to the way the school involves the community through shared partnerships, through the way families are (or are not) welcomed into the school.  Where is the reference to how staff work together? Where does this site show the way a range of cultures, including our own Indigenous cultures are catered for in a real, ongoing rather than tokenistic manner? The site does not reference how much professional development staff at the school participate in each year. Nor does it make reference to whether staff are aware of current policy, research and practice methods.  It does not indicate how behaviour problems are managed.  There is no reference to a change in school leadership, as new senior staff and principals can change the way a school operates.

All these factors, and more, go into making a school.  While literacy and numeracy are vital, so is knowing your child is respected, and that your child’s voice will be heard with in the school.

So, what am I saying in all this?  It would seem to me that the My School site smacks of tokenism.  It has simplified each school to a test score. It does not give a holistic picture of a school – no website ever could.  Schools by their very nature are complex, dynamic, ever changing places. Some schools have a wealth of resources at their fingertips.  Others do not.    Schools are not the sum result of a national testing scheme, and that is what bothers me about this site.

So, while I have looked at the site, and at the results of the school my children attend, I will be looking at these results in the broader picture of the school as a whole.  Taking into consideration local factors, and local knowledge.  I would urge everyone else to do the same.  Because it takes a village to raise a child, not a test result, or a web site.

Tags: children, it takes a village, my school website, NAPLAN, parenting, school

I have been bitten by the fox with his sharp sharp teeth, he has left a mark on my shoulder.

Well dear readers, (if there are any of you left) I have once again been neglectful of my little blog. Work began again this week, and I have been busy setting up, being at a conference, meeting and greeting new families, and doing paper work. Thrilling. I know.

I have also been rather absent from Twitter (insert small sob here) and from blog reading (insert pitiful sob here.)

It has, however been an interesting week none the less.  It was the week I got tattooed.  Yes, that’s right tattooed. I have been wanting a tattoo for a long, long time.  Once, some years ago I even made an appointment to have one done, but the tattooist in question looked at what I wanted and said ‘no, can’t do that, the line work is too fine.’ Well, you can imagine the confidence that inspired in me.  I cancelled the appointment.

Since then I have continued the search for the perfect image, and the perfect tattoo artist.  My search ended last week when I came across a web site. I rang, they said  just drop in anytime to discuss what I wanted, so I did, but the artist in question was busy.  It was a little confronting walking in to a shop front and seeing 2 people being tattooed right in front of me.  I wasn’t sure where to look.   I made a time to come back and discuss my ideas with my chosen artist – for artists these people truly are.

I returned two days later and discussed what I wanted with Ryan, my chosen tattooist.  He went away, drew it up and showed me… I beamed! It was perfect. So, as I waited for him to set up I signed the paperwork. A man about my age and his partner were there too, he was choosing his design, and another younger man was being tattooed as well. He had 2 hours to still go and  he had been there at least an hour already… so, I thought to my self, how much can it hurt really.  I was to be tattooed in the shop front, with people walking past me on Smith Street Collingwood looking in. People came in and out, chatting to various artists, showing what they wanted, where they wanted it… one bloke even dropping trousers… meanwhile, I’m standing there with one singlet top strap and one bra strap tucked under my arm, shoulder bared having the transfer applied.  No one batted an eye lid at any of this. It was refreshing actually, people of all ages, shapes and sizes, baring skin, baring body, without judgement, without fear.   I checked placement in a double mirror, and then it started.

The buzzing noise was close to my ear.  There was light pressure, a small scratching sting… this is Ok I thought… easy.  Fool.  The second part was right on my shoulder blade. I had heard people say that being tattooed close to bone can hurt.  They are right.  But it was a controlled pain, of my own choosing.  After about 45 minutes I was done.  My tattoos were covered in plastic wrap and I was ready to go home.  A marked woman.  I love my tattoo, and am already planning to add to this one, or get another one.

For me, being tattooed was very personal.  What you choose to have put on your body, and where you have it, it is very personal.  A friend said I will regret having it done.  But I don’t, and I wont.  Someone also said I may regret it when I’m 90.  But I wont. If I’m 90 I’ll be happy to still be kicking and I’ll be able to say that I made choices about my body for me. And at the end of the day, it’s me who has to like it!

Note – the title of this post is what I wrote as my status on facebook when I arrived home from having the tattoo done.  It is also a hint at the name of the place I was tattooed.

Tags: blog, never say never, tattoo, twitter

Community

There have been reports recently in the media about Twitter and what a waste of space it is.  Comments such as ‘who wants to know what you had for breakfast or that you missed you bus’. Well, I for one do.  Because along with knowing what someone had for breakfast, I may also know that they are having a tough time, that they are lonely, or that the school holidays are driving them batty and they need a bit of light relief.

You see, Twitter is much more than an endless stream of mindless 140 character or less updates.  It is a community. A community I fell very lucky to be a part of. When I signed up for Twitter I had no idea what to expect.  I thought at the very least I could vent about the little things that annoy me throughout the day, of which there are many,  and that I may perhaps get a bit of traffic to my blog.

What I didn’t expect was a caring community of people, connected by a little blue bird. Tweeting that you are having a bad day will bring caring responses, jokes to make you smile, suggestions of chocolate, or wine, or both.

This past week has been no exception.  I have seen an amazing outpouring of support and love that has brought me to tears, and in this, I know I am not alone.  Tweeps have moved states, had worrying or disappointing news, children have broken bones, been unfairly criticised, and one dear Twitter friend undergoing chemotherapy has been in a coma.

I have stuck close by my blue feathered friend this week for updates, and to be able to offer words of encouragement, strength and support.  I have witnessed a group of people offer support to a relative stranger as they flew from one side of the world to another to be close by a loved one in ICU.  I have seen an outpouring of love, positive thoughts and strength for our tweep in ICU… I have read suggestions to get her beloved pets, who were pining,  to eat…. and read how the moment she woke, the dog left her bed at home, and ate and drank.

Without Twitter I would know none of this, and I think my life would be a little poorer for it.  A few of my tweeps I have met in real life, some of them have been my friends since before we all had computers in our homes, and phones were things in your house, not your handbag.  Some people may scoff at this, suggesting these cyber friends are not friends at all.  Some may observe that online social networks such as this are for the socially isolated.  Well, I have real life friends that I see, and hug, and laugh with… but I also have on line friends that I see through blogs, and chats of 140 characters… and if even one of these people is on the margins of society, and is now connected through the online community, making an effort to connect with other people, then I say good.

So thank you Twitter, and thank you my lovely tweeps.

Tags: twitter

Confessions – 10 things I don’t have the guts to do.

I have been tagged by Ami at Puff Pieces and Megan at Writing Out loud for this.  Some things came to mind straight away, others took a bit of time to think of.  So, without further ado, here are 10 things that I don’t have the guts to do…. or don’t want to do!

1.  Eat sushi.  I just don’t like it, I just don’t want to.  I don’t care how good for me it is, or how much everyone is eating it… even my son,  it will not pass my lips.  Ever.

2. Hook turns.  I live in Melbourne.  I drive in the city, easy. But, if I come to an intersection and want to turn onto a road, and I need to do a hook turn I will keep driving through the intersection… I just won’t do one… I don’t get them.

3.  Snorkel or scuba dive.  It scares me.  It really does.

4.  Eat seafood. At all. I hear you all cry WHAT! But ick.  I ate a mussel once, I tried a prawn once.  No thank you.

5.  Get my tongue pierced.  I love the way it looks, but I’m just too chicken!

6.  Not colour my hair.  I know one day I will need to stop… but I don’t want to think about it.

7.  Deal with finances.  Maths is not my strong point. I used to budget, sort bills etc… but now I leave it all to Hubby.  I don’t like to deal with it.

8.  Confrontation.  I hate to have to deal with uncomfortable situations.  I hate to have to confront people about anything, mainly if it is going to cause someone to be upset.

9.  Deal with spiders. I have run through a house screaming and taking off clothes when I thought a spider was on me.  I have got neighbours to get them out of the house.  I wake Hubby in the middle of the night and point to minute ones on our double height ceiling and then make him get them so I can go back to sleep.

10.  Leave the house without doing my hair.  But really, this is a community service.  No one needs to witness that, even in a hippy hills community!

So, there are my ten, and now I get to tag some more people – and they are…

Thea –  Do I really Wanna Blog?

Taryn – Taryn Rucci

Emily  - emlykd the strange

Jodie – Mummy Mayhem

Jade  - She is Jade

Carly –  Everyone Wants This

Brenda – Mummy Time

Music, food for the soul.

I love music, it’s a constant in my life.  There are songs that stay with me as loyal companions, there are songs that elicit emotions, songs that take me to a place, a moment in time… Songs that make me joyous, songs that make me dance.  Each year as the Hottest 100 rolls around I begin to wonder if I’m getting too old for this… if I should be looking elsewhere for my music fix… and sometimes I even try, but I keep coming back.  Then I give myself a slap and turn the volume up.

Here is my pick for the year – these are the ten songs I voted for.  So, grab a drink, sit back & have a listen… and I’d love to know what your favourite songs of 2009 were too!

Regina Spektor  - Laughing with

Angus and Julia Stone  - And The Boys

Karen O and The Kids – All is Love

Lisa Mitchell – Coin Laundry

Little Birdy –  Summarize

Little Birdy  - Hair DO

Sarah Blasko - No Turning Back

Sarah Blasko – We Wont Run

Vampire Weekend  - Horchata

Vampire Weekend – Cousins

Image from Dry Icons

Tagged: A photo meme

The lovely Thea over at Do I Really Wanna Blog? and the equally lovely Jodie over at Mummy Mayhem both tagged me in their favourite photo posts.  Thanks guys! I love photos, and choosing just one will be tough.  I have been thinking about this while on my forced blogging break, due to study and work commitments (yes, even though technically I’m on holidays.)

The task of choosing a photo has been made easier for two reasons, the first being my old lap top died, and although most photos were retrieved, they are not easy to access for someone as impatient as me.  Most other photos have been burnt to disc and are packed away awaiting the end of the fire season.

I also find it hard, because for me, photos fall into a number of categories, kids, kids and friends, friends and me, family…  Each photo hold special memories of a moment in time.  I have, while trying to choose one for this post looked over many photos… and have smiled a lot.  Photos of the family that was made, at music festivals, selling wine, with friends at the beach, beautiful photos of my kids, my family, how can I choose just one?

Well, when it came down to it, I chose the following two… you may have noticed I don’t work well with limits.  Boundaries are meant to be pushed right?

Both these photos were taken in Tasmania a stones throw from my parents shack.  Now, the thing you need to know about the shack is this – in Tassie every holiday house is called ‘the shack.’ It could be a tin shed with a pot belly stove, it could be an architectural wonder on the edge of a cliff overlooking the beautiful East Coast, or anything in between. On a Friday, the start of a long weekend, or school holidays, when collecting children from school the excited cries of  ’I'm going to the shack’ can often be heard.

Mum and Dad’s Shack is situated in The middle of Tasmania, Dad is a fly fisherman.  It’s an art more than a sport.

These photos are at the river a short stroll form the shack.  I have seen the river covered in a sheet of ice, raging after rain, slowly meandering on a hazy Autumn day.  I’ve seen small brown trout wind their way along it, and watched our dogs dive for rocks in it.  These photos show Master10 and Miss8 at different ages.  The first Miss8 is about 3, her brother 5.  The next photo they are 4 and 6. The dog is our dear old boy Solo, who died last year, a gentle old soul who we still miss.  In the second photo Miss8 is wearing one of my hats, Master10 has on one of his grandfathers old akubra hats, complete with old hand tied flies hooked in it.  Master10 was given this hat when we moved to Melbourne.

I love these photos for a number of reasons.  They capture my kids at a moment in time when their whole world was family, shack, water, sun, and snow.  They are full of joy, wonder and infinite possibilities….

So now I can tag people to share their favourite photos – and here they are

Emily from Emlykd the strange

Megan from Writing Out Loud

Tags: children, parenting

You are my sunshine!

I was awarded this by both Carly over at every one wants this and Jade from She is Jade.  Thanks so much, it’s my first award!

This award is to acknowledge those that have a blog and spend endless hours ensuring that other bloggers get feedback on their blogs by leaving comments, adding themselves as a follower or dropping by just to let you know there are people out there.

We all like a bit of comment love! So now it’s my turn to pass it on to others.  So, to everyone who comments here on my little old blog, thank you! Especially the following bloggers -

Emily from EmlyKD the strange

Jodie from Mummy Mayhem and April form Life Slightly Used’s Blog

I’d add Carly, Jade and Thea from Do I Really Wanna Blog? but they have the award already, so they can all have an honourable mention!

What I saw on the last day of the year – for my blue eyed boy and my green eyed girl

As I sat in the shade feeling the warm air dry my swimming body I watched the blue eyed boy and the green eyed girl in the pool. They had that self assuredness and total unawareness that anyone other than their mother may be watching them. Self contained. A total lack of self consciousness, completely engrossed in their own activities together.

Every now and then the green eyed girl would raise her goggled head and give me the thumbs up.  I’d return the favour, then she’d be gone again.  Their voices would sometimes catch the breeze and snippets of their conversation would wing its way to me…a ‘watch this’ … or a ‘I’ll go first this time.’

Blue eyed boy smiled, lost in his new found water bravery, jumping in from the side, bobbing up under a boogie board…. slowly surfacing, wild hair covering a creamy skinned face.

They traversed the pool in a haphazard way, together in a sibling bubble.  The blue eyed and the green eyed – the fair haired and the dark.  Around them others swam and splashed, laughed and dove… but it was these two I looked upon, these two that held my gaze.

Then the breeze changed direction.  The sun slid behind a cloud  and a dripping, colt legged girl bolted across the lawn with a treasure in her hand, glee on her face. ’Mum!’ she called as she dripped on my towel… ‘Look what he did! He found it!’ She opened her hand and showed her prize – her hair band, loosened and slipped from her thick, thick hair to the pool floor. Returned by the treasure hunter… the blue eyed boy – and I looked, and I smiled, and I loved.

Tags: children