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There is a night market running for a few Fridays in Geelong. We went last week, and there was an amazing array of food on offer, so we went again last night as the start of the celebration of Nicky’s birthday. The food was indeed tasty and the kids were playing well together, rolling around on the grass and being silly in the best possible way.
Nicky went off to look at a few things without kids, which is always nice to do now and then, so I took them for a wander. I stopped to talked to a fella from work, and the kids took off to play with other kids and climb all over some minor bit of decorative stonework. I had a chat for a few minutes and the kids came and went from view. And then I realised that it had been a few minutes since I’d seen them. I wasn’t too worried, but figured that it was time to see them again.
So I set off, checking the immediate area. Nothing. So I did a quick circuit of the place. There were probably 1,500 people there but the space was only the size of a small football oval. Still nothing. So I did another circuit, and then spoke to the security people and asked if they had a place for lost kids.
Err, no. That, and they didn’t have a procedure for looking for lost kids. Despite this being all new to them, they jumped into the task and helped me search for her. After about another ten minutes, I got in touch with Nicky and she joined the search, standing at the last place the kids had seen me. About five minutes later, the security guards found Finn and Leila.
They had been sitting in a promotions tent, doing a colouring competition and charming the staff. Happily, they were perfectly calm and confident, and they had stayed together the whole time and hadn’t even thought of leaving the market. It had only been about twenty minutes since I’d seen them.
They had not, despite the view of the chief security officer, been “snatched up by predators.” I can’t say that I thought this was likely. My fear was that they would not be able to find me and both in tears. So, while it was a bit stressful at the time, it all ended well.
Next time we go, however, they’ll be wearing their dog tags that have my phone number on it. Admittedly, it wouldn’t have helped in this situation, since they didn’t know that they were lost themselves, but it will make me feel better about letting the little rascals out of my sight now and then.
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Recently Eilis retweeted a link to an article first published in 2003 in The Atlantic, entitled “Caring for Your Introvert” by Jonathan Rauch. It resonated with me as, I gather, it did with many others. I am an introvert. I always have been, although at times I’ve been able to make a fair stab at feigning extroversion.
At one point in my Telstra career everybody in my group attended a two-day workshop on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. As part of it we (of course) were required to complete the test to determine our personality type. I came up as an INFP - introversion (I), intuition (N), feeling (F), perception (P) – scoring particularly strongly on the introversion side of things. My manager at the time was quite surprised by this because I had reputation as being outspoken and strong in the way I presented myself in meetings, etc. I explained that in certain situations, such as meetings where my team were being criticised, I was able to play the extrovert, but at the end of the week I would go home, watch TV and barely say a word to anyone, while an extrovert would go out to the pub for drinks. Lots of people believe that personality tests are a load of crap. I have no real opinion one way or the other on the tests, but the Myers-Briggs got me right – I really am introverted by nature
I find people an effort – even my own lovely family can be extremely tiring – and need time on my own to recharge after being around people. As much I crave the holidays at the end of the school year for the break in routine and the opportunity to hang out Mark and the kids, I am equally eager for the return of school in February and the chance to spend time by myself while everyone else is at work, school and kinder. I also neither need, nor want, lots of friends, something I think Leila is starting to find perplexing. She asks me every so often if Joanna is my only friend and why I don’t have other friends. She’s too young yet to understand that Mark and I share our friends and that having few friends is not necessarily a bad thing. Actually, I’m not sure she’ll ever understand that second point. I’m pretty sure she’s an extrovert.
In a 2006 interview, published as a follow up to his original article, Rauch quotes a line from Waiting for Godot that I think I shall take as my new personal motto: ”Don’t talk to me. Don’t speak to me. Stay with me.” It says all that needs to be said.
The surf at Johanna Beach is huge, and there is a sign on the way down: You’d Be Mental to Swim Here. But all is not lost; it’s quite nice to stand by the water and let is rush up and over your feet and legs. And it’s good fun, too.
Emmylou, peanut that she is, enjoys running up to where the water stops and then prancing out when the wave lands, tongue hanging out of her mouth as the gives a big, doggy smile. The kids love this game, too. Finn and Leila stand as close to the water as they dare. As the wave comes they scream and leap around like the junior lunatics that they are. It’s absolutely lovely to see them so confident in the water and having so much fun.
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Although it was fun to splash around in the massive waves with Finn, Leila, and the dogs, we cut our camping trip short by a day because it was just a little too hot. Once it became clear that we would spend most of our time hiding in small amounts of shade, just waiting for the sun to stop trying to fry us alive, we decided to pack it on and come home.
It was certainly nice to be back in our own beds last night. Everyone slept well, and today is a much cooler day, so all is well.
One of Finn’s many birthday presents was a Deltora Quest omnibus and we each night I read him a chapter. Most nights he pleads for a second chapter, but I usually hold film. He’d have me stay up all night reading it given half a chance.
I’ve been reading to Finn pretty much every night since he was tiny. I am not sure exactly when we started, but it was a good, long time ago now. Leila has been in on the act, too, although since we switched to Deltora Quest, which is mostly words with only the occasional drawing, she tends to tune out a bit.
I can’t say that I particularly enjoy the book. It’s not bad per se, just fairly pedestrian and unsurprising. But Finn loves it, and that’s the important thing. What I do enjoy though it getting to be there every night for both Leila and Finn, just taking the time to read to them, and giving them a chance to hear my voice do something other than boss them around.
Some months ago, inspired by something I read on the interwebs, I had my Year 10 students write 100-word autobiographies. You can read some of them here if you are interested. At the time, I was struck my how many of my students shared one aspect of my own: their parents being separated when they were quite young.
And for some reason tonight it especially hit me just how common this is, and just how lucky I am do see Finn and Leila so much, and how lucky I am to get to read to them every night.
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We had the second open-for-inspection for our old place in Point Cook today, and someone made a very low offer, indeed. It was not a serious offer, but it is still nice to see interest in the place.
On the Geelong front, we have been looking at places here and, although many are in dreadful condition, we saw three places that we could happily live in and even afford, provided that our old place gets a reasonable price.
All of this is, as you would expect, very encouraging. We’ll be a bit on edge and neurotic until Point Cook sells, but that is be expected. Until then, the signs at both ends are good.
Image by MarkOMeara via Flickr
Not all education is equal and, in my opinion and experience, it is more to do with the values you and your family hold, and not simply about money, although cash certainly plays a part.
Now, lots of what is written about schools and education seems like twaddle to me, but this short article in today’s Age seems to explain the issue really well. Give it a read; it’s very interesting and put the situation much more clearly than I am likely to.
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Both Finn and Leila have grown out of the Wiggles, but they had a little discussion over their breakfast toast about the issue of Greg coming back and replacing his replacement. Leila seemed pro-Sam and Finn took a longer view and remembered when Greg was a Wiggle.
It’s the Wiggles’ business, of course, how they conduct their business. I did wonder if Sam was made a partner when he joined the group, or if he was just an employee. And now I know, and so does he as he is shown the door.
I’m not in danger of watching the Wiggles again with any regularity, but I am sorry to see “salaried” Sam go.
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I just finished another short novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist, a 200-page book that our Year 12s are studying in first term. As it happens, I didn’t end up with a Year 12 English class this year, but I had a school copy of the novel at home and thought it might come in handy in case any former students want my help, not that this is all that likely.
This novel is told in the voice of a Pakistani man talking to an American in market and telling him the story of his adult life. Being reporting of a monologue, it is very easy to read and I ripped through it. It’s certainly an accomplished novel and it is carefully constructed.
But I did have a few misgivings. The protagonist seemed just a little too good to be true. Too noble, too moderate, too sensible. I also wonder how easy this novel will be to teach. My only experience teaching Year 12 English tells me that students of that age can be pretty perceptive, but I still wonder if the themes are issues in this book are dealt with overtly enough for most of our students to thrive with this text.
Still, time will tell, but I am quietly grateful that I won’t be teaching it.
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