Month: January 2018

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My Parents

My name is Emma Fraser and I attended FAHS from 2013 through to 2017. This year I begin a new adventure at Massey University in Palmerston North studying a Bachelor of Communications. This piece was written as an assessment for Level 3 English.

My dad has been my hero for as long as I can remember. The big, tough policeman who used to save the world and braid my hair all in the same day. The man who loves adventure motorbikes and created a story for the song ‘flick the little fire engine’ and memorised it because it was his children’s favourite story. The man who stops criminals but has always made it back in time to pick me up from school or take me to sports practice. Fearless, brave and the softest person I know.

My mum taught me to be the person I am today. She taught me to be kind but never be pushed around. She taught me to stand up for myself and to always speak my mind. None of this was intentional, but as I grew up I have watched her. I watch as she runs around tirelessly making sure everyone around her is happy. I watch as she stands up to people that try and push her around. And I watch as she dances around the living room to her favourite but terrible songs trying to convince me that it ‘counts as exercise’. I watch when she thinks I’m not watching, and what I see is the person I want to become.

A parent’s love is natural. It is not an uncommon thing for a parent to read their child a bedtime story or trick their children into eating the vegetables they hate because they know in the long run it will be good for them. It is not uncommon for a mother to cry as her daughter receives an award at a ballet recital. It is not uncommon for a father to let his daughters dress him up in makeup and headbands because he knows it will make his girls laugh. That is called the love of a parent, simple but true. What is uncommon is something that I am fortunate enough to experience. It’s something more than the love of a parent. More than pride and belief. More than just doing what any parent would do for their child. It’s not fair that I must use the word uncommon or that I receive blank stares from many of my peers when I describe the relationship I have with my parents.

Not everyone has the relationship I have with my parents, not everyone feels the love and joy and admiration that I do. And I hate it. I hate when I hear stories from my friends about how they dislike their parents and it’s heartbreaking to know that not everyone knows what it feels like to have such relentless and unconditional love. Something more than just parental attachment.

A few years ago, I struggled with my acne. Normal, common, teenage acne. It was the thing I hated most about myself. My dad would make jokes in order to show me that it wasn’t a big deal, that it was something that I could laugh about. He taught me that things I can’t change should never influence my life as greatly as I always let them. Although, at the time I did not see this. And instead cried when he called me ‘pizza face’ and refused to speak to him for some time.

When I was about 11 I got my appendix taken out. I was in the hospital for three days in agony. My mum stayed with me every single night. She endured the below average hospital food and my never-ending complaining about everything and anything. To some people, this may not be a surprise. But there was a young girl not much older than me who shared the room, she had arrived a day or two before me and in the entire time I was there, I remember seeing her family visit only once. Once. My mother was there the entire time.

When I turn up to work hungover and hungry, it’s my mother who drops everything to bring me the exact sandwich I am craving to make me feel better, even though it’s my own fault and I probably deserve to suffer a little bit.

Every single time I come home crying, my parents are there. Even if they’re laughing because even I have no idea what my problem is, they are still there, ready to pull me into a hug and tell me everything is going to be ok. I can go to them when I am upset or confused or having problems because I know that I can tell them anything. That is rare. I know that. I have not met a single other person my age who tells their parents everything, who when something happens can’t wait to go home and tell their mum. But I have that.

This is what makes me mad. This is what I go home feeling guilty about. I have two parents who care more about the happiness of their children than anything else in the world. Two parents who sacrifice everything to give their children the world. Two parents who are so rare that I have not met a single person who is even remotely lucky enough to have parents as caring as mine.

I love my parents more than anything but I know that no matter what, they will always love me infinitely more. I know because they tell me every day. But not everyone gets this. In fact, very few people have what I have and I hate it. I hate it. But as my parents have always told me “life’s not fair”.

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Our Dear Friend Oscar

Dave Byrne is Head of the Languages Faculty at Feilding High School. The following piece is a refection on his son, Oscar.

One day we brought the groceries home and Oscar picked up the cans and started stacking them in different locations before staring intently at them. We thought nothing of it at the time.

He would be prone to the odd meltdown and he was completely obsessed with cars but nothing too out of the ordinary for a toddler. His language was the first flag that he may have autism. He had very few words and even fewer two word sentences. Most of what he said was simply a direct echo of what we had said.After doing some research, we ended up seeing  a specialist and we are now on track to getting him diagnosed.

Living with Oscar is an absolute joy. He adores his mum, idolises his twin sister Phoebe and loves visits from his nana. He smiles and blows kisses to his Gran on Skype and usually comes up for cuddles when I arrive home from work.
Where we start to notice differences is how he behaves when he is around other kids. He is happy to play alongside them and is keen to join in with running around games (tag, chase, football etc) but he doesn’t really communicate.

At first, seeing Oscar struggle to form relationships made my heart sink. While Phoebe is off making friends and doing all sorts of imaginative role play, Oscar just happy on his own, investigating things.

But over time I’ve realised that is where you have to check yourself. Why am I sad? Is it because Oscar is not fulfilling my idea of what I think will make him happy? I have to remind myself that it is not about my expectations for him. It is about him working at his own pace and doing what makes him happy.
His kindy teachers are amazing people and he loves going there. He enjoys playing with trains, the slide and every now and then sneaking into the office to tap on the keyboard.

Oscar is slowly learning how to follow instructions and is getting better at responding to his name. It has helped tremendously that we have been proactive and not ignored any signs; the professionals we have dealt with have all been brilliant.

His mum is a wonder woman. Her patience, kindness and caring is absolutely limitless, even when Oscar is at his toughest and most trying.

Oscar is making new discoveries every day and often has incredible moments of lucidity where he will use his words perfectly and in context. Once he even slipped off his chair and managed to deliver a beautifully timed “oh sh..” on his way to the ground.

His sister is probably his favourite person in the world and it’s wonderful watching their relationship blossom. He brings her toys and often shares his food with her. At some point, we realise that we’re going to have to sit down and have a conversation with Phoebe about how her brother is a bit different from her other friends.

Despite his many differences and limitations, Oscar is a sweet, kind and gentle boy.

His personality is possibly best summed up by his name. In some translations, ‘Oscar’ means “dear friend”. With his smiles, gestures, singing and cuddles completely lacking in pretension, Oscar might just be one of the dearest friends I will ever have.

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Some Thoughts On Teaching

I wrote this article after I ruptured my Achilles tendon in the middle of 2017. I was becoming more than a little stir-crazy; below is the result.

Philip Jeffreys

I’ve always enjoyed writing and my relatively recent foray into a Facebook page for our Scholarship English students has been a pleasurable experience. The page has become increasingly philosophical and this, coupled with my recent spell of enforced inactivity, has got me thinking more deeply than usual about a range of issues.
My other driver is that I’ve got a nagging feeling that we could do things so much better at FAHS. This is no criticism of an institution which has given me the twin benefits of a range of challenges and a regular income since 1976. However, we’re always so busy all the time that we seldom get time to sit back, grab a coffee or a low-alcohol beer and have a really good ponder about what we do and why and how we do it.
So, in the spirit of this post-modern world, I’m going to start with what I’ve learned about the education process since 1956 when I first became a factor in educational outcomes. Hopefully I will develop some ideas about some current policies and practices and conclude with a generalised point or two about what all this means for both teachers and students.
My first thought is that we teachers, above all else, teach ourselves. Students remember people to a much greater extent than they remember which river forms the border of France and Germany. I have vivid memories of virtually all my teachers, especially the ones who could tell a story, those with a dry sense of humour and those with a real passion for their subject. The Principal of Cathedral Grammar was a gentleman with the magnificent name of Lionel Slingsby Hart. He had fought WW2 as a tank commander in North Africa and he enthralled us with stories of how difficult it was to besiege a Crusader castle in the twelfth century. Beatrice Muir taught Latin and French and when she talked about someone enjoying something she would finish her story by commenting that “her smile went twice round her face and tied in a bow behind her left ear”. At Christ’s College, I spent four years with James “Jimmy” McBride, an Irishman with a flair for languages. One of his favourite phrases was, “You can’t scale 100 per cent” and we really did try to get everything right. According to popular rumour, Jimmy had at least nine children and supplemented his income by evening stints on national radio; his facility with languages ensured that European composers always had their names pronounced correctly.
The corollary of all this is that we ought to be rather less concerned with schemes and much more focussed on developing confidence in ourselves to be the people we really are. Sure, we need to avoid the temptation of trying to be stand-up comedians and we do have to teach the little darlings stuff that they need to know for the exams and, much more importantly, for life after school. However, if we use our brains we can do both because smart teachers teach their courses in such a way that they are their authentic selves at the same time. Trying to be something you’re not is helluva tiring. Been there, done that.
The second thing that I’ve figured out is that in an ideal world we would have a 1:1 student – teacher ratio. Both as teachers and students we know that taking someone aside and explaining why the Spanish Armada failed or the difference between pronouns and conjunctions or why a particular chemical formula operates the way it does (apologies for the lack of detail here) is far and away the best way of getting the concept across. However, if you have a class of 30 teenagers, you’ve got to be smart. You can differentiate until the cows come home (differentiate means that you teach different kids different stuff in different ways) but differentiation can easily develop into an Olympic quality shambles. What you need to do first is to develop a class culture, the keynote of which is that everyone matters equally and that therefore we need to work for each other. Being disruptive doesn’t cross our mind because we recognise that if someone else is being disruptive we can’t learn.
Recently FAHS welcomed Wesley Clarke onto our staff. Wesley is a highly successful rugby coach who specialises in insightful comments about how we humans influence each other and how we work effectively (or not) in groups. In a few short months this South African guru has had a bigger effect on my thinking about teaching than anyone I have ever come across. Even though FAHS currently has the strongest staff we have ever had, I reckon that there’s room for improvement in our culture. Just as developing a class culture is so important in helping students to succeed, so is developing a staff culture so that we all have an emotional investment in moving forward together. The problem is, of course, that teachers – especially the best ones – are highly individualistic by nature. If their way of doing things works, they certainly aren’t going to change it. However, I do think that there’s room for compromise here. Clearly a staff culture can’t be prescriptive. To give a personal example, I have no intention of using IT if it’s just another way of doing what I already do reasonably effectively; moreover, I will use all my inventiveness to get around any aspect of compulsion. Like most Kiwi males, I hate being told what to do; I’d rather go to Hell my way than travel to Heaven using an approved route…You get the picture. Anyway, a staff culture doesn’t have to be prescriptive. All we need is some sort of vague but meaningful mantra. Something as simple as “We do the best we can for each of our students.” No educational jargon – just something simple that we are free to interpret in our own way.
This unofficial mantra has already inspired me to try to make some major changes in what we do and how we do it. Firstly, it’s a truism that we think in words. If we haven’t got too many words at our disposal then our reasoning skills are going to be sorely limited. Reasoning skills are quite important things for fully functioning members of society to possess. Ergo, let’s make a real effort to increase our students’ effective vocabularies. We are currently trialling a variety of methods to achieve this necessary end. Needless to say, this is not all me and I’d like to formally recognise the foundation work of Trish Balmer and the ongoing skills and enthusiasm of Sarah Sisson and Kate Nielson, two staff members who have been crucial in getting the avalanche started. It’s also great to see Glenn Thomson utilising some literacy strategies in the Maths Faculty.
A side effect of our literacy initiative has been the sudden (if 40 years’ late) revelation that two teachers operating in one classroom can have a huge effect on student attitude and achievement. This year I spent a very enjoyable five weeks in SSN’s 11 Science Skills class. The 19 students were the lowest achieving group as identified by Year 10 testing and were widely expected to find NCEA Achievement Standards well beyond them. As there was no option except to have an attempt at Achievement Standards, off they went. SSN restructured their assessment on viruses and bacteria so that it was broken down into very small pieces and did all the teaching. I was employed in an assistant’s role, focussing on teaching key vocabulary in very short stints and checking that the students knew what these words meant and how they were used. I also helped by answering questions when I could. As an aside, I am sure that that my impressive level of ignorance about viruses and bacteria at the start of the unit was seen by the class as a positive factor. Ignorance was OK; it was something we needed to remedy together. Equally impressive as my level of scientific ignorance were the results. Of the 19 students, 16 gained Achieved, including all 15 boys. Now, on the face of it, we haven’t got the resources to double-team all low-band senior classes but I wonder whether these students’ success in Science is going to affect their achievement in other subjects. (Yes, I am going to be dropping in from time to time to see how they are getting on in all their subjects). I also wonder if we can go beyond the obvious and succeed in finding the staffing for something that works amazingly well and really has significant potential for changing students’ lives. After all, confidence is THE key component for success in any field of endeavour and if we can give these students the experience of success maybe they can achieve results none of us imagined.
One of the spin-offs of moving quietly around the Science Skills class was my observation that these young persons asked quite a lot of questions, an awful lot more questions than my super-talented 13ENAs, for example. What the…? What’s going on here? Clearly the Science Skills class had the confidence to ask me for help but the 13ENAs surely had confidence to burn. Didn’t they? Anyway, one evening I invited myself to our hostel prep time and spent a pleasant hour cruising around talking to students about why they did and didn’t ask questions. I’ve put together a (very brief) paper on my findings but I have no doubt that improving students’ real (as opposed to apparent) confidence to ask questions is one of the two most significant changes we can make to improve student achievement. The other, of course, is widening their vocabularies.
Another change I’m really keen on relates to time. You’ll recall that I made reference to this in my second paragraph. One of my mantras is that time is our best friend and our worst enemy (Not a bad way of teaching the concept of paradox). Over the last twelve months I’ve become increasingly aware that time is indeed an unforgiving enemy for many of us. We are running on empty: we’re trying to do too much in the school day and also in those pre- and post-school hours that make up the remainder of the allocated 24. There are two highly predictable results of this state of affairs: stuff isn’t done as well as it might be and teachers come to regard FAHS as a source of exhaustion rather than of inspiration. Fortunately, there’s a solution. We need to burn as many assessments as we possibly can. In the senior school, we offer at least 50% more credits than students actually need. At Levels 2 and 3 some students are entered for twice as many credits as they require. Surely it would be smart to design courses which maximise teaching and minimise assessment? Would that not be highly likely to produce better results, better informed students and less stressed staff?
Moreover, I reckon that there’s another way in which we can save our staff valuable time. When I was a HOF my key policy was a commitment not to waste people’s time and therefore I cancelled every meeting that had limited value. I did get some criticism from those colleagues who liked sitting around and airing their views but there are other ways of having professional discussions – and other venues for them. As a wise journalist once said, “Winners have parties; losers have meetings.” I’m a fan of voluntary meetings: the chairperson decides on the agenda and publishes it. If people feel they have something to contribute, they show up. If they’d rather do some essential family shopping or continue “War and Peace”, good luck to them. Furthermore, there are all sorts of ways of disseminating information; holding a meeting is the least effective way I have ever come across.
So what does all this prove? Well, I didn’t start writing this with the intention of proving anything in particular but possibly I have discovered a few gems worth the trouble of digging up and polishing. To begin with, I’d like to share a couple of aside comments which have occurred to me whilst writing the above comments. Firstly, age doesn’t really matter all that much in teaching; provided, of course, that one still has the faculties of breathing and being reasonably ambulatory. There are some students who do respond to teachers who are closer in age to them than we more venerable types are, but this phenomenon really does vary from student to student. Interestingly, there appears to be a strong correlation between students who relate best to younger teachers and those who reject the works of the long-dead, Shakespeare in particular. Interesting, but not surprising. Secondly, I have discovered that staying at the same school for one’s whole career is no bad thing. Certainly, promotion can be extraordinarily slow, but teaching and promotion don’t necessarily go together. The upside is the joy of teaching the children and grand-children of past pupils. Anyway, that’s enough of me.
To conclude, my key finding is that we can all inspire each other, provided that we are open to being inspired. That stroppy young bloke in the far corner can teach us how to do a better job, but we do need to be prepared to accept the feedback. Guest speakers can open young eyes to the world beyond school, if only because they look and sound different. They may be conveying exactly the same message as we do but packaging does make a difference in promoting a product. Finally, we all teach each other every day. That sounds terribly trite but it’s just so true. How we relate to each other – teachers, students, teacher-aides and ancillary staff – determines not only our job satisfaction but our personal growth as well.

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“Sheaf” Editorial 2017

The following piece was written by Abby Davenport, a member of the 2017 Level 3 cohort.

Well, we made it. For some of us, we have just survived our first year of high school. Others, our first year of NCEA. And those like myself, it’s the end of a bittersweet chapter in our lives. One that has helped to shape and define us as individuals, mould and (attempt to) prepare us for adulthood, and maybe even somewhere along the line, educate us on content somewhat useful for tertiary education (if we so choose).

It’s pretty remarkable to think that we have packed so many experiences into such a short amount of time. A roller coaster journey that has seen many ups and downs, dos and don’ts, firsts and lasts. While I thought I couldn’t wait to finally see the day that I wave goodbye to this place, I also didn’t think that it could creep up on me so quickly. I remember in year 9 anticipating the years to come and thinking about what I want to do with my life and where I see myself ending up. What university to go to. Should I even go to university? I also remember having such thoughts only yesterday. However if there’s one thing that I’ve truly learnt from high school, it’s that the journey is far more important than the destination (thanks PJ!). Despite having dedicated thousands of hours to classes, plus all that extra for internals that span over weeks or in some cases, months (yes history folder, I’m talking about you), I have also come to learn that the most important lessons are taught to you by not just your teachers, but also those around you – friends or not.

Over the course of high school and the time we’ve spent growing up, some feel that the world has shrunken down. That it wasn’t long ago that we were ending our toddler stage and progressing to our first day of primary school in which every day since, we have only been growing to fit a set mould of our future. However this is certainly not true. The world is only just beginning to expand for us. Just because you were, or maybe weren’t, accepted into that Biomedical Engineering, architecture, or school of music course, or you are yet to even apply for anything, this does not mean it’s the be all, end all. That your fate is sealed. Despite popular belief, high school doesn’t just set you up for one path of life or one course of study. Whether you realise it or not, it equips you with the means necessary to veer from one path to the other and provide you with a wide selection of choices and destinations once you leave at the end of year 13. You just have to look up from that textbook and realise that the most important learning on offer is from the interactions and memories made with those around you.

To those of you reading this who are still on your high school journey, if I can offer a piece of advice, it would be not to let others dictate your subject choice and your path of life. Because at the end of the day, it’s your life and you must do what makes you happy. Pick the subjects you are passionate about. Not the ones you are told look best on your record of achievement or that you have no interest in whatsoever because honestly, although I have enjoyed all my subjects, there are still some random concepts I will never find myself having to use (like the life story of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chiaroscuro Lighting, or the microscopic insides of a plant cell). There are no ‘smart’ or ‘easy’ subjects at high school. The classes are what you make them. Additionally, don’t take things at face-value and don’t be afraid to ask questions. Voice your concerns because when it comes down to it, the most important voice at high school is that of the students.

And so, with my little spiel over, I just want to say a big thank you to FAHS and all the people – friends, teachers and everyone else that has made the past five years so memorable. It’s been a great run, Class of 2017, and I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of people to see the year out. Therefore, in closing this significant chapter in our lives, we open a new and unknown one. One that is undoubtedly full with new characters, settings, conflicts and climaxes. Nonetheless, lets ride it out with pride, and make the most of what the journey has to offer us.

To leave you with a favourite quote of mine from the film, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (used, of course, for Level 1 reading logs), “For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again”.

 

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The Great Vaporisation

The following piece was written by Lael Chisholm as part of her Level 3 writing portfolio in 2015. Lael was our Dux and also gained Scholarships in both English and Graphics. Since leaving school Lael has won the 2017 Gavin Bishop Award for Illustration – quite an achievement for an artist not yet 20. The book concerned, “Granny McFlitter The Champion Knitter”, is due for publication next month.

I was a very negative particle before I met H2. Life had no meaning for me and I never really had anyone that I could form a strong bond with. H2 was the opposite. So positive and happy, she embraced life with endless enthusiasm. We were instantly attracted to each other and formed what we call a ‘Water’ relationship: H2O. In most water relationships, ours included, life runs along smoothly. There is never an obstacle too big for us to move over, under or around, and we never have misunderstandings because everything is always crystal clear to us. Sure, we go through rocky patches sometimes but it takes more than a bit of bumping and bubbles to split us up. For centuries, Oxygen and Hydrogen atoms have been bonding together, staying strong through thick and thin, and for years they would continue to.

Or so I thought.

It was all over the news one particularly muggy day. “H2O molecules all over the world are claiming that they ‘don’t want to be together anymore.’” I watched H2 out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting as far away from me as possible while still inhabiting the same couch, eyes glued to the TV. I sighed. The forces that kept us together seemed to be weakening every day, and I had no control over it. The news reporter moved on, now informing us of the intense wave of heat that was sweeping the world. Temperatures climbing far above what they had ever been before. Reaching for the remote, I changed the channel. We had already heard about that.

But apparently there was more.

The next channel had President Watersby naming the climate change ‘ The Great Vaporisation,’ and the channel after that showed crowds singing about the end of the world, when believers would be evaporated up into heaven. The last channel was the National Scientific channel. A Nitrogen atom was explaining something on a blackboard swarming with numbers and diagrams. “And this, folks,” he was saying, “means that when the temperature increases, the attractive forces between the atoms are broken, and as a result the particles are separated. For example, if we have H2O, the energy from the heat will split th-…”

We sat staring at the blank screen of the TV for what seemed like hours, H2’s hand still clenched around the remote like a clam.

O pried the remote from my trembling hands and returned it to the coffee table. His face was grave, his furrowed brow betraying his negative thoughts. I could tell he was losing hope fast. “Be positive,” I reminded myself. “I have to be positive.” With this thought in mind, I bounced up off the couch and made my way to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some lunch,” I called out enthusiastically. But even I couldn’t ignore the hint of desperation in my voice, the faint undertone of helplessness wavering in the stifling heat waves in the air.
This weather really was unbearable.

It was a strained lunch, with O sinking further into depression and me trying to lighten the mood with irrelevant stories and questions. I was beginning to annoy myself, with all my incessant chatter and forced laughter. Why was I always so overly positive when things went wrong? I felt like there was a cord of elastic tied between O and I that was stretching tighter and tighter, and the only way I could cope with the tension was to pretend everything was fine. And everything was fine, wasn’t it? We were still together – still happily together.

Everything was great.

Everything was terrible.

And I could tell that H2 was worried because she was talking a mile a minute about nothing and had a big, fake smile pasted on her face, her mood seeming to improve almost as fast as mine deteriorated. What were we going to do? How could we save our relationship when it seemed like the forces of nature were against us? I couldn’t in ignore it anymore – the blatant truth was scorchingly obvious: the rising temperatures were the cause of our relationship troubles. And since we had no control over the weather, we were doomed.

“Breaking news!” The TV announcer’s excited voice broke through my thoughts like a bucket of ice cold water, trickling through my brain and gathering into a small puddle of hope in my stomach. “Scientists have discovered a way to save H2O molecules!” The camera flicked to the Nitrogen atom from the National Scientific channel. He was in a blustery room, the wind pelting his hair and flapping his tie back and forth like a flag. He was squinting and blinking manically, a massive grin straining across his face.
“AIR CONDITIONING!” He shouted. “KEEPS THE TEMPERATURE DOWN!”
H2 leapt up off the couch and squealed, but I tried to remain calm. After all, it might not even work – there was no use getting our hopes up about it.
H2 obviously didn’t agree. “We have to get an air conditioner!” she exclaimed excitedly as she ran out the door.
“It won’t work,” I called out after her. But she

was gone.

It did work.

The soothing, refreshing air from the air conditioner swirled around H2 and I in gentle waves, restoring us to our normal selves and somehow reducing the strain between us. It was like magic! I could feel my dark mood lifting, blowing away in the breeze and being replaced with contentment and relief. Our strong bond had returned once again like an old friend, and I knew that no matter what tidal wave or storm we encountered, we would stand strong together through thick and thin for many years to come.

 

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The Real Victim Of Verity McLean’s Death? Verity McLean.

Michelle Duff attended FAHS from 1996 to 2000. She believes the most interesting stories come from the things we take for granted. In her decade of reporting, Michelle has worked on staff for Stuff, the Sunday Star-Times, The Dominion Post and the Manawatū Standard. Her freelance work has been published by Vice, the Listener, the NZ Herald and North & South. A Canon Media Award-winning feature writer, Michelle is a National Correpondent and columnist for Stuff covering health, social issues, and women’s rights.

The following article appeared on www.stuff.co.nz on 19 December 2017.
.

 

Another woman killed at the hands of her partner, and a big, gaping hole where there needs to be two words: domestic violence.

These two words have been missing throughout the coverage of the murder of Invercargill mum Verity McLean, 40, by her estranged husband, Ben McLean.

He was a policeman at the time of her killing. Initial coverage of the case told us he was a “nice guy”, whose act was “out of character” and had shocked the small community. Initial coverage, and in fact the collective narrative of all news stories, has erased Verity McLean the woman almost entirely.

Verity Ann McLean was shot and killed by Constable Ben McLean on April 25, 2017. She had left her husband for his one-time friend, Garry Duggan.

McLean decided to kill her. In Invercargill High Court this week we learned he didn’t flip out, or make a snap decision. He meticulously planned her execution, killing her after gagging her and tying her, upright, to a couch. She had 36 bruises on her body, which he inflicted using a blunt instrument. He then shot her, point blank, in the head.

He couldn’t have her, so he exerted the ultimate form of power and control over her – causing her death. He made sure she would not exist without him.
The Family Violence Death Review Committee reports make for some light bedtime reading, if you’re ever interested. You can settle in with a cup of tea while hearing about how 194 people, including 56 children, died from family violence and related homicides between 2009 and 2015 – an average of 28 a year.

You can browse the section about intimate partner violence, which is where people (mainly men) kill their (mainly female) partners, which accounted for 92 deaths in the same time period. You can read the part about how separation does not ensure the safety of women.

Indeed, almost 70 per cent of female victims are killed, or their new or ex-partners are killed, in the time leading up to or following separation.

In court, McLean reportedly fought back tears as he said: “The real victims of this death are my three children. The two most important adults in their lives are now gone.”Bert [Verity] was the love of my life who broke my heart and my soul, and I will live with regret and the torment for having been involved in her death for the rest of my life.”

No. No. The real victim of Verity McLean’s death is Verity McLean. This is the voiceless woman who has been erased. Here, let’s look at the killer – what does he have to say? Oh look, he’s crying! He had a broken heart! No. He is alive, while she is dead. He gets to make victim-blaming apologies that minimise his actions, while she can say nothing.

Also down south, in the same week as the McLean case, a Queenstown District Court judge elected not to convict a man who violently assaulted his wife and daughter after seeing a text message exchange with another man. The Herald reported how Judge John Brandts-Giesen said the assault, in which the man kicked his wife in the ribs and held his daughter down by the neck, had to be seen “in context”.

“There would be many people who would have done exactly what you did, even though it may be against the law to do so….I consider that the consequences of a conviction are out of all proportion.”

New Zealand has the highest rate of domestic violence in the developed world. The way the courts and the media talk about domestic violence matters. Someone does not kill their partner because they are in a “deadly love triangle.” It is not just a factor that the victim and killer were in a relationship; it is the factor. And there are no situations in which abuse is deserved.

We clamour for a public apology from the murderer, when it’s largely superfluous. What matters is that we have created a society in which domestic abuse flourishes, and when it appears, we don’t want to look.
In a statement released by police on Tuesday, Duggan described Verity McLean as a loving, kind, compassionate woman, and an outstanding mother. He ended: “I ask today that we give more thought, more regard and more compassion to those that have been denied their lives by evil people.”
The one person who never says anything is the one who can’t. And these are the voices we need to listen to the most – while they are still alive to be heard.

Michelle Duff

https://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/life/99989414/the-real-victim-of-verity-mcleans-death-verity-mclean

 

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An Open Letter To President Donald Trump

I’m Alexa Bishop-Matthews and I attended FAHS Feilding High School from 2013 until 2017. As I write this, I’m preparing to embark on a new adventure at Victoria University where I will be studying English Literature, French and German. This column was written over a period of a few days when I was hit with a bout of rage that will become evident as you read, though it later contributed to an Excellence grade in my Level 3 English Portfolio. I hope you enjoy it.

AN OPEN LETTER TO PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP

I heard all about your travel ban: for countries that don’t fit your rigid business plan. Your “extreme vetting” of Iran, Iraq, Syria, Sudan, Libya, Yemen and Somalia has been described by some as a “Muslim ban”. Which is a rather logical connection to make considering the aforementioned are the seven biggest Muslim countries in the world. If that were true and this is a restriction based on religion, this order is in violation of the First Amendment of the Declaration of Independence. Within which it states that the government cannot officially favour or disfavour any religion, you wouldn’t be acting as if you’re actually above the law now, would you? I have a major problem here, and it started with the announcement of this ban. How can you decide who cannot and who can legally cross your borders? You’re the President now, not a businessman.

With three and a half years in front and only six months behind you, you’ve somehow already managed to upset “the currency manipulator” known as China; repealed the only health care act that supported low income families; and attempted to sue those who exposed you for the explosive liar you are and have proven to be time and time again. It’s really no surprise that your Twitter has been rampant with past accusations coming to light as new, self-contradictory statements are published daily. Now I, like most people, took your campaign as a joke – surely you’re just giving the SNL cast ammo for their skits, rather than actually running for President. Alas, the Electoral College would seemingly rather allow a racist, xenophobic, bigot to rule over one of the most influential countries in the world than a woman. Nevertheless, this is not about your opponent and it just so happens that, in my opinion, neither you nor Hillary Clinton was best suited for the position.

Still, it does worry me that while your voters may not be racist, xenophobic, bigots themselves, the fact remains: they still voted for one. They voted for the man who said he would “Make America Great Again” – yet, I am also not alone when I say that America was never great to begin with. There have been a few achievements in recent times, the election of Barack Obama for example or the legalisation of gay marriage. But, for a country that pioneered the oppression of the Native Americans; the enslavement of the African people; carried out forced deportations when we all know who’s really illegal; and gave summer camps to the Japanese: who needs internships when you have internments? Is it really a shock that so many people – the majority of the US actually – disagree with you and your politics? I hope you can make America great, truly I do. On the other hand, “Make America Great Again” involves an adverb that forces me to question your judgement. As your carving digs so deep and divides through every state, and you’re just filling up hearts with fear as a result of hate.

Although, when you’re President of the United States, maybe it becomes easier to appear better than those who are inferior to you. It takes nothing more than the flick of a switch to bomb citizens of Syria in the hopes that you will somehow destroy ISIS – is the collateral damage that comes with this tactic justifiable? Do you realise that by using chemical weapons against Syria you have done little else than poison children not much different from your own? How can we blame you? Your son Eric has claimed the decision to attack in the Middle East was swayed by a “heartbroken” Ivanka. This is just a little something to consider, I don’t recall anyone voting for Ivanka’s heart to dictate US Foreign Policy. However, even if we ignore that for now, you’re still doing exactly what ISIS wants: they have infiltrated these areas in an attempt to dismantle them, and you’re only speeding that process up.

Maybe that doesn’t bother you after all, how much do you truly care about the children of your own country in the end, excluding Ivanka and her heart? Tell me, what would happen if Syria decided to bomb your country, to do unto you what you have done unto them? To put you in your place after you left the residents of Flint without fresh water or allowed gassing of Native Americans at Standing Rock? You were right though, when you said “there has never been a presidency that has done so much in such a short period of time,” in this case, corrections could be made to this quote so it specifically references the damage you have caused. How far will you go, rather how long will it take you to “Make America Great Again”? I feel a sense of foreboding that we are in for a very long, very destructive wait.

I don’t know how you’re going to remedy this and do what you set out to do. But, for whatever my opinion is worth, I do think it should start with you accepting that you may not be the one for this job, not as your predecessors were, at least. To be quite honest, you have as much experience in this area as the majority of the citizens of the US (eliminating the last six months, of course). The difference is, only one of you is trying to pretend that they are knowledgeable enough to do it well and Donald, your facade is failing you – rapidly. People are losing trust, rightly so I might add, and it’s up to you to regain the support of your nation and the people in it. Whether or not you do, the consequences lie with you – there’s no one else to blame now. No more Crooked Hillary with her emails, nor any Lyin’ Ted with his Zodiac Killer accusations. It’s time for you to be held accountable.

In spite of all of this, unfortunate though it undoubtedly is, I am aware that this letter won’t change your thoughts – in the end we’re more likely to see your tax reports.

—
Best,
Ale

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Welcome To Our Blog

I realise that you’re never supposed to start off with an apology but this is a necessary evil, I reckon. If anything goes awry with the set up and structure of this blog, don’t be surprised. I will have fouled something up. I’ve never attempted such a task before and, to be entirely honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. In fact, I don’t understand most of the technical terms used and, as a Kiwi bloke, I admit to an innate aversion to reading instuctions of any sort. Without the help of my daughter Alex, who set the technological process in motion, this project would not have proceeded beyond the theoretical. Thanks, dear.

Anyway, during the recent Christmas holidays, I had an idea. Having taught at Feilding High School for something over four decades I’ve had the privilege of coming across a large number of smart people, many of whom are using their writing to make successful careers. One thing we all need to succeed, whether we’re teenagers or not, is confidence and it occurred to me that if I could assemble a collection of pieces of writing created by our past students, just maybe this would boost the confidence of our current cohorts and inspire them to improve their writing so that their employment opportunities and choice of leisure activities are greatly widened.

So that’s the dream. Over the next few days I’ll be introducing some established writers and a few who are yet to be “discovered”. You’ll be reading columns, essays, poems, editorials, sports news, satire…..just about everything.

Philip Jeffreys