2021 In Principal Archive

Threads

15 November 2021

‘The tapestry of history is woven of many threads.’ (Jacqueline Carey)

I grew up in a household where thread was ubiquitous. With a mother who was a sewer, an embroiderer – a dressmaker, and a father who worked in the clothing industry it meant that I was raised on a textile diet. Later in childhood, I came to realise that it was actually unusual for a father to comment on clothing choices on the basis of fabric composition, ‘too much polyester in that,’ he would say, ‘it needs more cotton.’ It came as one of many embarrassing revelations about my parents. Silks, polyesters, jacquards, voiles, brocades, cottons, wool blend … these words were not uncommon fare in our dinner discussions.

But the threads I have been attuned to lately are more tartan in nature – or at least metaphorically so. The tartan metaphor is strong at Fairholme - a reference point for the values that connect us. The coloured threads appear differently in different lights, the warp and weft pronounce the pattern of ‘the Maclaren’. There is variation in appearance depending on time of day and perspective varies - for example, a group of girls in tartan pronounces and concentrates the colour and gives energy to the pattern. A uniform is a connection, superficial in one sense but also a signifier of a shared experience, time traveled together, commonalities that are never erased.

Just over a week ago I called in to the mothers’ long lunch to hear Edwina Robinson speak. Edwina was Head Boarder in my first year at Fairholme - the year was, unbelievably, 2003. It’s the privilege of being in a school for a while that you are able to witness the growth of girls to women – from adolescents eager to leave the jump’n’jive behind them to young confident women who are keen to look back and are not afraid to acknowledge from whence they have come. A chance meeting years after their departure from school reaps a wonderful link back to them as a student and who they have become as adults. You trace the years and almost always, you can see a palpable link between their ‘school self’ and their ‘adult self’. Often, you recognise the same qualities of determination, creativity, kindness and how they have been sewn into time, experience, and life itself.

Edwina muses at her erratic and unpredictable career path from school to now – yet I can see links that bind her ‘school self’ with her ‘adult self’ and those links are palpable. Edwina is best known for her stunning wedding photography, almost exclusively taken in rural settings yet COVID has pushed her into another space – fashion design. Having left school and completed a fashion design course, Edwina horrified her parents by finishing that and venturing straight into a personal training course. Real estate followed. Real estate photography ensued. Wedding photography was next, then … COVID and finally, back to the future: a fashion business Field the Design. As a people person, a creative person and an energetic person, her career choices are unsurprising. But these aren’t the deeper threads that are manifest in Edwina – the ones that were impressive in 2003 and are even more so, in 2021.

What struck me most when Edwina was in Year 12 was her decision to shave her head to raise funds for the leukemia foundation. From my understanding she was the first Fairholme girl to do so (certainly not the last) – a trailblazer with a social conscience. She was brave. She was a doer. She understood service. This is the motif that has also been apparent in her work as a wedding photographer – including her personal donation of $15,000 to the Tie Up the Black Dog organisation in 2015 after a picture she took in drought-stricken western Queensland went viral. And, in 2017, she undertook her 100 day, 27,000 kilometre ‘’Wander of the West’ with just her dog Geordie, no money, and the offer of her photography skills to families on stations in exchange for board, food and diesel. Her reason? To demonstrate to politicians and other Australians what life is like to the west of the Great Dividing Range. She particularly wanted to share the stories of resilience in the face of drought with those who needed to listen.

The things that define a tartan uniform are much deeper than that which appear to the eye. ‘The tapestry of history is woven with many threads.’ When we dig deeper than the surface of a career, we see the essence of people, and their motivations for why they do what they do. How special to see the creative essence, the people essence and the service essence of Edwina – nearly nineteen years on from her Fairholme graduation. That is ultimately what education is about – developing ‘person’ first. The filaments that bind one Fairholme girl with another and with her school are deeper than the superficial, deeper than the warp and weft of the tartan and, when strong, they have the ability to bind others together, particularly in times of need. Thank you, Edwina, for a reminder about what is important in a Fairholme education.

‘The aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values.’ (William S. Burroughs)

Dr Linda Evans | Principal

Bitter/Sweet

1 November 2021

We sometimes choose the most locked up, dark versions of the story, but what a good friend does is turn on the lights, open the window, and remind us that there are a whole lot of ways to tell the same story.(Shauna Niequist)

Our Year 12s are in exam mode and letting go mode. Their Fairholme journey is almost complete, and with it, for many of us, a deep sense of the bittersweet. After all, schools are but a stopping place, there is always a moving on, farewells, letting go. Each year, we take a deep breath and say our goodbyes to another cohort, to girls we have journeyed with … some for as long as fifteen years. The quantum leap from the child who didn’t want to lie down during sleep time: the one who cried whenever her parent left her at the kindy to the young woman feasting on her independence is immeasurable. Inevitably, there have been dips and inclines and rocky obstacles that have forged this moment … and, it is … bittersweet.

Writer, Karell Roxas (2021) captures this feeling when she reminds that as parents we have 18 summers together with our children. Eighteen long beach holidays, perhaps, or eighteen Christmas trees with early morning present-giving, eighteen camping holidays with fights over tent placement … eighteen. Best to savour each one. After that magic eighteen, holidaying often continues together, but it’s different, your role as a parent is different and it feels different too: simultaneously liberating and poignant. After all, our job, to some extent, is to become redundant.

Such is the role of a school, isn’t it? To become redundant. To ready our school-leavers to explore new, broad challenging pathways and for them to be confident in the traverse – looking forward and never back. It is a bittersweet privilege to be made redundant. Though, even in the parting of ways there are threads and remnants that aren’t easily or ever entirely severed. They are the ones to reach out to and hold on to when the warp and weft of life unravels a little, or a lot. They are the gossamers – almost invisible to the eye but stronger than one can imagine. They can hold us firm in times of unsettledness.

Importantly, the way we view the dips and inclines and rocky obstacles that lead us to this moment of departure and future, matters a great deal. Finishing well is a cliched phrase of mine because it captures truth. How we finish lays the foundation for how we begin the next phase, and the one after that. Author, Shauna Niequist reminds us that there are a whole lot of ways to tell the story of this foundational time in one’s life.

How we tell our story, how we represent our experiences and how we see ourselves within those experiences, has a profound effect upon the next stage of our journey. Interpretation of our foundations is the lens from which we view what lies next – be that a wide or narrow angle or a close up or long shot: it matters.

It would seem, in the transition of moving from school to the world beyond, that the pendulum swings somewhat haphazardly within this binary, from jubilation to distress … and every emotion in between. Letting go, is rarely an easy task – not if the things we let go of, have meaning or significance. For some, its fifteen years of friendships, for others it’s the safety of a boarding house routine and for others it’s been the opportunity to grow … For staff, we watch the process with fascination, each with our own individual experience of the bittersweet. Eighteen summers can feel like a lot or just a few: best always, to savour each one.

Dr Linda Evans | Principal

References

Roxas, K. (2021). We only have 18 summers together with our kids: but I’m determined to make the most of it. May 25, 2021. Published on mother.ly 

Accountability or Responsibility?

18  Octoberber 2021

“There's no word for accountability in Finnish. Accountability is something that is left when responsibility has been subtracted.” Finnish Education Minister

“Accountability is done to you. It’s done by those who want to create blame. Responsibility is done by you. It’s voluntary. You can take as much [responsibility] as you want.” (Seth Godin)

In her article ‘5 Simple Ways to Teach your Son about Accountability,’ Cavalot (2020), captures that parenting moment with which we are all familiar:

“I only hit him because he called me an idiot.”

“I only called him an idiot because he broke my toy!”

Cavalot writes, ‘this game is not fun. It can go on forever. And no one ever wins.’ Undeniably, this scenario may render itself differently with daughters or be dependent upon the age of participants, but the essence of the blame game is unaltered: it’s about deflection of personal responsibility. Of course, this is not a skill, or a defect only associated with childhood, this practice re-emerges in adults too. Consequently, that is why the explicit modelling of responsibility needs to start with us as parents and teachers so that our children or students learn to accept not deflect the impact of their behaviour. More easily said than achieved, it would seem.

On topic, I read an online article a few weeks ago, titled ‘Players urged to ditch mates after Cameron Munster, Brandon Smith video emerges.’ What followed was a discussion of a post-end of season party involving Melbourne Storm players which hit social media and included advice of those ‘in the know’ as to how to avoid becoming the subject of public scrutiny.

Allegedly these two players were caught on film taking drugs. Within the article were phrases like, ‘You’ve got to be very careful who you surround yourself with,’ ‘…it’s always the other people around them that are getting them into trouble, not themselves,’ and, ‘Why take that risk? You’ve got a whole life after football to do whatever you like. You can go back into … society and do what you want, but while you’re a professional footballer, understand that there are people out there that are out to get you.’

When I read the article, I was propelled back to the scenario Cavalot (2020) had painted about her sons deflecting responsibility for their actions. This football article was redolent with deflection. Nowhere in the article was a suggestion that the choice to use drugs has consequences, irrespective of social status or employment type. Nowhere in the article was a suggestion that as public figures there is greater responsibility to act lawfully. Nowhere in the article was a suggestion of whether this was the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do. Focus was firmly on blaming the person who filmed and shared the incident – the person who should have said, apparently, ‘hey fellas you are doing the wrong thing.’ There is no doubt that illicit filming and sharing of that which occurs privately bears its own ethical transgressions but that is not the point of this reflection.

The undertone of the article seemed to represent the alleged offenders, those that sign a player code of conduct as part of their contractual obligations, as victims. Not only were they constructed as victims, but the blame was directed everywhere else. I failed to read accountability or responsibility for choice, anywhere. Rather, I read, do what you want but choose who you are with, when you do so. Further, if you get caught, it’s not your fault, it’s the fault of the people who you are with. Whether it takes a code of conduct to impel us in our lawful, moral or ethical choices – such codes exist. They are the written and unwritten laws that bind us to behave in particular ways. When we transgress, who is responsible? Michael Grose (2019) a prolific writer on parenting encapsulates this in such simple terms:

“When you muck up, you make up.” Goal: Responsibility 

“How will you fix this?” Goal: Restoring relationships

“You need to do what’s right, not what’s easy.” Goal: Integrity

Katherine Reynolds Lewis, author of ‘The Good News About Bad Behavior’, spent five years researching how kids mess up, and how [parents] can help them learn to handle those failures, which ultimately will set them up for success. She writes of the long path of parenting and the need to project into adulthood, to 20 years from now. Lewis asks, ‘in 20 years, will it matter more that your child got an A on a test, or learned the value of hard work?’ (cited in Struck, 2019). Cavalot (2020) reminds that facing mistakes or accepting disappointments instead of blaming others is a tough lesson for children and for parents – some never learn it. Sometimes we just learn how to deflect responsibility, how to blame others and how to avoid shame.

To whom and to what are we responsible? How do we learn it? First and foremost, we learn from our parents: the most powerful force on earth. Yet again, it’s starts with our example. Indeed, holding children responsible for their actions is one of the important ways we teach them so that they can become responsible adults. In this sense, it is more important to hold children responsible than adults.

Dr Linda Evans | Principal

References

Cavalot, B. (2021). 5 simple ways to teach your son about accountability ›

Grose, M. (2019). The language of independence building › 11 February 2019. Parenting Ideas.

Naghten, T. (2021). Players urged to ditch mates after Cameron Munster, Brandon Smith video emerges › 

Struck, J. (2019). Accountability in Parenting › March 4, 2019 

The Importance of Losing

17 September 2021

That's what learning is, after all; not whether we lose the game, but how we lose and how we've changed because of it and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games. Losing, in a curious way, is winning. Richard Bach

When the Australian men’s Olympic basketball team lost their match to the USA, which ceased their run to the gold-medal playoff, their coach, the legendary Brian Goorjian, shared his initial thoughts in five insightful words – ‘You win, or you learn.’ And yes, we all need to learn through losing. If you’ve ever had the cringe-worthy experience of seeing your child lose without grace, even in something as simple as pass the parcel, then you know that losing gracefully is an art form worth developing. Throughout our lives we will all lose at things that matter a great deal more than a game of 'pass the parcel', won’t we!

I’ve watched a lot of Netball finals over the past two weekends – games which typically hold greater weight than those in the general round. I’ve seen a lot of winners and learners, (not losers), if we take up Goorjian’s phrase. Invariably, at such times, I’m struck by the effort that girls give to these matches: the pure, determined, resolute way they keep going to the final whistle. Sometimes it’s with glimpses of stooped shoulders, sometimes it’s with momentary defeated facial expressions but almost always, the legs keep running and the effort remains palpable. Yes, Sport teaches us a lot about ourselves – if we allow it to. Legendary American Basketball coach, John Wooden, puts it this way, ‘Losing is only temporary and not all encompassing. You must simply study it, learn from it, and try hard not to lose the same way again. Then you must have the self-control to forget about it.'

Like so many aspects of life, the hardest and darkest moments teach us the most about ourselves. In our most vulnerable times, in those deep, hard losses, the ones that matter most to us, we have the greatest opportunity to learn. We can win through our losses. Of course, to see losing that way requires a seismic mind shift. Because our default position, the one typically taught to us by society, is that a win is a win, and a loss is a loss. Consider the Olympians who waited five years to don green and gold for their country and, despite their best effort, best intentions, and best preparation, were unsuccessful in fulfilling their goal. Winners or losers or learners? To appear on the Olympic stage is a win, irrespective of result; the self-learning must be vast. Sometimes, a near win can be more motivating than an actual win … sometimes… Sarah Lewis in her 2014 TED talk writes of the importance of embracing the near win, because, in her words, ‘coming close to what you thought you wanted can help you to attain more than you ever dreamed you could.’

It was fascinating to read the recent post-match media deconstruction of the Brisbane Lions heart-wrenching one-point loss to the Bulldogs; that stinging loss in the final seconds of their semi-final. Of course, a match is never really won or lost in a moment, is it? It is the cumulative moments that lead to the final outcome. It is sometimes won in the pre-season or as a result of excellence in training, or the magic of a team that combines like none other – usually it requires all three. Fagan described the commentary that criticised the nature of their loss in the dying moments of the game, by just one point, as a simplistic reading of the match and the season. Despite the sombre mood that followed, he spoke of disappointment stoking a fire within the Lions players and staff – in a sense, embracing the near win. ‘I think we've shown a lot of character and it'll hold us in good stead, a lot of these things do,’ Fagan said.

But we are perfection-seekers, aren’t we? In our drive for excellence, we sometimes fail to appreciate the small wins, the near wins, or the dignity involved in losing well. Steph Gilmore, arguably one of the greatest surfers in the world knows what it is like to miss out, to lose – and to win through that loss. At age 22, she found herself the target of an unprovoked physical attack. A stranger singled her out as she was climbing the stairs to her flat one evening, followed her, and hit her four times with a crowbar. He didn’t rob her. He didn’t sexually assault her. She endured a badly broken wrist and head injuries and was deeply affected for the next 18 months. He stopped her run at success. And thus, came her first taste of what she perceived initially as failure. Yet she made this powerful observation, ‘It was the best thing that ever happened to me. All those thoughts of being perfect, I could let them go. The perfect career was finished, and I could stop holding on so tight.’ When she won her next world title nearly two years later she had perspective, and gratitude. She said that being successful had meaning for the first time in her life.

So, as the Netball season closes for another year, it provides a timely reminder about how important it is to have experienced losses, wins and … learning. In the learning is the growth and sometimes the ignited passion to improve. ‘Learning to lose gracefully is important for several reasons, but perhaps the most important is that it is just part of life. Some of us lose a lot, some not so much, but none of us come out on top all the time' (Smith, 2010). Naively, we sometimes imagine that great athletes follow a smooth path to success; as a spectator it can appear that it’s easy for them to achieve fame. Consider Serena Williams and her amazing career singles record - 843 wins! Counterpoint to these 843 wins have been 147 losses. She has lost grand slams and big centre-court matches, 147 times. ‘She has had to pick herself up, dust herself off and try harder next time’ (Bowen, 2020). No doubt she has learned through those losses, changed through those losses, and taken all of that learning to her next match. Yes, it is important to lose because we develop empathy for others in that situation, and we build a platform from which to improve, to grow, and to approach the same and other circumstances with greater strength, into the future. We win or we learn.

Dr Linda Evans | Principal

References

Bowen, F. (2020). Losing gracefully is one of the most important lessons from playing sports

Rivera, R. (2016). Learning to lose is important »

Smith, S. (2010). The Importance of Losing »

Steinhoff, A. (2016). Why Winning and Losing Is Important for Children »

Nostalgia

02 September 2021

Nostalgia is a valid, honourable, ancient human emotion, so nuanced that its sub-variants have names in other languages that are deemed non-translatable. German's ‘sehnsucht’ and Portuguese's ‘saudade’ (Chabon, 2017).

Nostalgia: (noun), a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past. Author, Haruki Murakami, describes it in poetic terms as ‘a phantom dance partner or a shadow'. However, the most direct meaning ties explicitly to the Greek words for return and suffering: ‘nostos’ and ‘algos’ – the suffering caused by the yearning to return to one’s place of origin. We’ve all felt it. For our Boarders, the yearning for home can also be termed ‘homesickness’ or ‘grief and loss’. It can be a short-lived acute pain, it can be Murakami’s phantom dance partner who follows us as a shadow, or it can be that melancholy feeling that sits within us, blanket-like in its all-encompassing nature.

The last two years living with, and through, a pandemic, have given cause for nostalgia – a sharp and somewhat painful craving for the things we loved to do in the past but which simply aren’t possible now. We yearn for ‘the way things used to be’ and long to dip back to that other time; you know, the one we took for granted, possibly didn’t attend to carefully enough, ‘the time’ that now appears golden and alluring. Travel is that 'other time' for me – the thing I yearn for, remember sentimentally, and find myself dipping into for comfort. I admit, I glorify every moment and peer at each memory through tinted glasses of the deepest hue of rose. Nostalgia is not an uncommon practice. Researchers into the phenomenon of nostalgia, Wildschut et al. (2006) worked with undergraduate students and found that '79% of their sample described having nostalgic feelings at least once a week'.

When we consider our deep attachment to the past and our want to filter out anything unpleasant as we do so, then it’s understandable that we headed off to The Empire Theatre last Saturday evening with varying levels of trepidation. We wondered how you could have a musical that wasn’t standard in its format. Fairholme College and Toowoomba Grammar School presented their combined musical – The Show Must Go On on stage, but in film. And like other audience members, I delighted in the unexpected power of this new representation of the familiar. In many ways, it was very 2021 in creation, but in others, it provided a wonderful journey back in time: nostalgia captured in film. My arrival in Toowoomba in 2003 coincided with the combined school musical Anything Goes and I came to understand very quickly that musicality in this city is celebrated, revered and approached with a professionalism far beyond our population size. I’ve seen each musical since. I’ve loved each one for different reasons – different songs, different staging, different directorship – but I have genuinely loved each one.

This year’s The Show Must Go On has taken on a different place in my musical memory trove. My added layers of appreciation link to the way in which Director, Katrina Bailey, melded her narrative to capture through both the present, and the nostalgic past, the strong partnership between Fairholme and Toowoomba Grammar as represented through The Arts.

Audience members were caught in that fragile, precious eclipse between now and then. We watched as current and past students interfaced with the storyline; it felt that we were watching an on-stage and in-film presentation, concurrently. Perhaps there were some nostalgic yearnings for a traditional musical format but, more significantly, we had entrée into the golden nostalgia of the past. A pandemic changes things, but not all things, and not always things that matter.

I am so grateful to the staff, students and parents who enabled the show ‘to go on’. I am grateful for the ability to sit amongst a live audience, to see a filmed production and one that did what The Arts does best – emphasised its power to make us feel connected. And here is where nostalgia departs from the narrative because I did not feel wistful nor have a longing to return home to musicals that have always been; instead, I delighted in the inherent depth of feeling that good theatre evokes. Now there’s something to be nostalgic about… into the future.

Dr Linda Evans | Principal

References

Cavanagh, S. R., Glode, R. J., & Opitz, P. C. (2015). Lost or fond? Effects of nostalgia on sad mood recovery vary by attachment insecurity ‘Frontiers in psychology’, 6, 773.

Chabon, M. (2017). The True Meaning of Nostalgia ‘The New Yorker’. March 25, 2017

Wildschut, T., Sedikides, C., Arndt, J., & Routledge, C. (2006). Nostalgia: Content, Triggers, Functions. ‘Journal of Personality and Social Psychology’. 91. 975-93. 10.1037/0022-3514.91.5.975.

You Don’t Stop Running… with 180 metres to go

04 August 2021

Patrick Tiernan’s courageous finish to the 10,000m race is the stuff of legends. It epitomises all that we love about the Olympic Games and provides a rich metaphor for life itself: ‘you don’t stop running with 180 metres to go.’ I’ve now watched the footage of Tiernan’s finish more than a few times. It is a perfect example of incongruous juxtaposition: three moments that are simultaneously soul-wrenching and deeply uplifting. Three times he fell in the final lap of the race and three times he picked himself back up before crossing the finish line. For Tiernan, it was his fastest time for the season, but it was so much more than that.

We grieve for what could have been and celebrate for what was the most magnificent display of tenacity, perseverance, and a will to complete what he had begun. We remember, of course, that what he began, was not a 10,000 race, but a demonstration of training and hard work – we cannot forget that a run on an Olympics tartan track is not just a race, but a lifetime commitment to a goal.

It also makes me think of our own Year 12 girls who may have more than 180m of their race to go but who are certainly at a crossroad point. For most, internal assessment is finished; mock exams and final exams are all that stand between them and their finish line. How easy it is to stop on the track, yet how important it is to keep going. Perseverance in the face of adversity, however complex, however significant, or insignificant, is still a demonstration of character. ‘Sometimes it is about finishing, not winning,’ said British runner, Derek Raymond.

Keeping our eyes firmly on the goal, matters. Tiernan, in speaking about his race said, ‘It’s an honour to represent Australia and regardless of whether it is a performance I am pleased with or not, you still have to get across that line and finish that race and for me being so close to that finish line it was something that not only I could do but I needed to do.’

Therein, Patrick Tiernan demonstrates the most powerful example of personal agency – he chose to finish his race. No doubt, it was not the script he had written nor envisaged, it wasn’t in a classic sense how he would have chosen to finish that race. He says of the groundswell of support he has gained, that it’s not the sort of media attention he had hoped for because ‘he fell short of where he wanted to be.’ And we do too, don’t we, as do our children. We fall short of expectation; they fall short of our expectation too. How do we manage ourselves when that occurs? Importantly, how do we as parents respond when our own children fall short of our sometimes inadvertent but nonetheless unrealistic expectations.

Do we berate, chastise, or castigate? Conversely, do we enable avoidance, smooth the pain, alter the script, or simply apportion blame elsewhere? Possibly all the above. We want the best, expect the best and because of that, the stumbles appear bigger, have higher stakes and, at times, carry deeper shame.

But those crossroads are important. There are some crossroads that are predictable and inevitable – finishing school, for example. To some extent, we can prepare for these. There are others that appear when we least expect and they steal our breath for a time; they unsettle us and shake the life scripts we’ve carefully written, more than a touch. But those scripts are editable, they can be rewritten and redirected, and those crossroad moments can be the sites of the deepest and most important learning opportunities for us all – if we let them be.

Without intent, Patrick Tiernan has shown us how to negotiate a crossroad moment – one that occurred on the most public of stages. He’s shown us that we should never stop running with just 180 metres to go, even when we want desperately to do so; especially when the finish line matters to us.

He’s shown us that finishing can be far more important than winning and he’s shown us that one can be gracious and humble in the face of the deepest of disappointment. I’m grateful for the reminder and the perspective that sport continues to provide – so much more than a race time, a distance achieved, or a single performance executed.

The Third Quarter

Jul 23, 2021

It’s not that I’m smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer. Most people say that it is the intellect which makes a great scientist. They are wrong: it is character. (Albert Einstein)

It would be remiss of me not to write of the importance of the way we approach the third quarters in our lives. After all, it’s a freezing cold Saturday afternoon, the wind is howling, tree branches are looking ominously fragile, a huge proportion of the population of Australia is in lockdown, and we are in the beginning moments of the third term. Having been raised on a steady diet of Netball playing and coaching, AFL spectating, and too many school terms to number, the significance of this phase of the year resonates with me. Coaches might well share the cliché – this is when the tough get going because the going is tough. It is, as I often say, ‘the premiership quarter’, the quarter or the term where winter blues and the anticipation of a finish too far out of sight can lead us to despair or poor choices. We must persist, persevere when we would rather avoid, and simply get on with what lies ahead of us. We really must. Because that, in the well known words of poet Robert Frost, will make all the difference. Those that are strong finishers, those that don’t quit and those that work through adversity possess a sometimes underrated gift.

As my daughter, and millions of others face their fifth Melbourne lockdown, I ruminate about her resilience and ability to persevere, again. I imagine myself living solo in a one-bedroom apartment and come up quickly for air, conjuring suffocating thoughts of isolation and loneliness. Yet again, she surprises and delights me when I receive two bouncy texts from her on Thursday afternoon – ‘Just thought I’d let you know I’m fully vaccinated,’ replete with a photo of her arm with sticking plaster, and the next, when I proffer sympathy for her situation, ‘Lockdown is what it is – no point getting het up when it’s out of my control.’ I know that should there be a protracted stay-at-home period, her texts may eventually yield a less optimistic tone but, for now, the mother in me is deeply comforted by her impressively positive mindset.

I’m not sure if it’s a bridge too far to equate repeated lockdowns with third quarters but the common thread lies in outlook and mindset. What do we do when the finish line seems an interminable distance away? What do you do when you win the first set of the Wimbledon Singles final but falter in the second set and go down 7 – 6? If you’re Ash Barty then you rise to the challenge with the tenacity and perseverance that typify her enviable trademark. Tennis legend Billie Jean King summed it up in her tweet acknowledging Barty’s win - Congratulations to World No. 1, @ashbar96. With incredible versatility, perseverance, and focus, Ash Barty is an inspiration to the next generation of young players in Australia. Well done! Tennis is, after all, a game about mindset and … perseverance (Pranjal, 2021).

Perseverance is one of those soft skills that is written about ubiquitously in leadership blogs, self-help books and positive psychology posts. That does not diminish its worth as a skill. Barty oozes it. We require it. We don’t just require it - we need it in our metaphoric third quarters, the ones that bite hard, when fatigue sets in and when our focus falters – the moments when we can’t see beyond the immediate – or when tragedy and trauma befall us. Martin Seligman (2011), arguably the father of the positive psychology movement, writes insightfully about responses to trauma which can lead to growth outcomes. Using the motif of a fork in the road he explains that we can, in the right mindset, negotiate life’s deepest paradoxes – ‘loss and gain, grief and gratitude, vulnerability and strength.’ Our mindset, our attitude, our outlook are our filters for life. Oscar Wilde captured this in a poem drawn from his own experience as an inmate – ‘two men looked out through prison bars, one saw mud, the other, stars.’

When I reflect on the thousands of students whose learning pathways I have followed, the nouns that I associate with those who have long-term life success are work ethic, determination, persistence, and growth mind set. In fact, accomplishments into the future draw deeply from the well of these character traits – often far more so than intelligence quotients. These are the key qualities required when traversing the metaphoric premiership quarter, the quarter that sets a team (or an individual) up for the final run home. Teachers can identify those students who possess a growth mindset in a millisecond; we all have friends who have the miraculous ability to be optimistic in the face of difficulty. Consider our role as parents in the perseverance dialogue; after all, there’s no avoidance of the reality that our example is crucial. Barty puts it this way, ‘Mum and Dad have taught me everything that I’ve learned in life. They [have] taught me the values to live by. I feel like I have very strong values because of them’ (cited in Bruno, 2019).

To develop a gritty teen, we need to praise kids not for being smart or showing up, but for their hard effort. We need to infuse optimism and humour into their lives. We need to train them to hang in there. We need to show them how to plug along toward long-term goals even when they trip and fall. (Holland, 2015)

So, as we enter the third quarter, let us approach it with vigour and persistence, knowing the ability to do so will hold us in good stead not just now, but long into the future. Albert Einstein opens and closes this article for us, appropriately so – a master of ingenuity, creativity and praiseworthy perseverance – ‘I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right.’ Albert Einstein

References

Bruno, V. (2019). Ash Barty’s rise to the top a testament of character and persistence

Fairfax, W. (2019). Fearless French Open Champion: Ash Barty

Holland, J. (2015). Grit: The key ingredient to your kids’ success. ‘The Washington Post’.

Pranjal, S. (2021). On Tennis and Perseverance

Seligman, M. (2011). Building Resilience. ‘Harvard Business Review’. March 31, 2011 11.00pm.

The Tik Tok Challenge Belongs To Us All…

11 June 2021

I am more than old enough to remember Princess Diana’s death with absolute clarity.

I know that I was sitting in my study, working on an assignment at our home in Buderim, when the now-famous car crash in a Parisian tunnel occurred. The paparazzi chase and their invasion into privacy was legendary. Whichever side of the Royal fence you find yourself perched upon, there is no doubt that the nature of her death and the publicity that surrounded it has had a profound effect upon many, including her younger son, Harry. No doubt. I remember the anger associated with the media who hounded her relentlessly. I also remember an article at that time that proposed to me and all other readers that we, too, were responsible, in some way, for her death. Offended, I read on – the journalist – a name long gone from memory proposed that the millions who bought newspapers, magazines, and other publications about the princess had fuelled the paparazzi fire. They had legitimised the invasion of privacy, they had urged media to transgress previously unexplored boundaries in the quest to tell more, show more, and offer unique insights into a life that was intriguing.

At her funeral, her brother, Charles Spencer, described his sister as the most hunted person of the modern age. Ian Down, managing editor at the photo agency SilverHub, told TIME that ‘Editors couldn’t get enough of her.’ She lived almost exclusively in the public domain, in a love/hate relationship with the media. Twenty-four years on, it is not newspapers or magazines that define notions of privacy but social media. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok have redefined what’s share-worthy and what’s not. When illicit and confronting content wends its way into these platforms, we rale against their existence, in the same way we called for paparazzi accountability in Paris, 1997. Yet, as people choose to broadcast their most personal moments without filter, the parameters between what is and what is not acceptable to share, becomes increasingly blurred. When news erupts of another dangerous TikTok challenge we call out for greater control, school action, more sanctions, tighter legislation – all this, as we simultaneously send messages to family and friends via our favourite social media platform.

We know that the content that filters through TikTok and Instagram, as well as via other social media platforms, varies significantly – from that which is innocuous through to that which is deeply dangerous and disturbing. We know that cute images of kittens and puppies are used to lure social media users into watching content we would never permit on our family television screens: don’t we? This is a social media site that last year had more than 500 million active monthly users, 66% of whom were under the age of 30. Roy Morgan data shows more than 1.6 million Australians visit the TikTok website or use its app in an average week, and more than a fifth of those are Generation Alpha, those born between 2010 to now (Squires, 2020). It is reported that TikTok users spend an average of 52 minutes per day on the platform, on the smart phones (aka computers) that we have purchased to keep our children safe, the phones we have bought and continue to pay for, so that they can call us with when they need help, or need to make contact – yes, it’s the same smart phone.

Of course, filtering platforms allow parameters to be put in place (e.g. FamilyZone) for greater safety – you can turn features on and off remotely, you can monitor the sites your daughter accesses, you can filter out spam, offensive comments, specific keywords, and block accounts. But we also know that filters cannot catch everything. Hashtags change frequently, and creative spelling helps in the bypassing of filters. We are talking about controlling adolescent behaviour that is being courted, groomed and sought out by mega technology companies whose first motivation is a profit margin. It’s a powerful juggernaut. So, what do we do? Bury our heads in the hundred other worries that deserve attention. What we do, is to continue to place weighty value of ongoing conversations with our children around safe use of technology.

We continue to work hard to ensure that our children know that they can confidently discuss any distressing content with us, because when we do so, then their safety is protected far more than any app or filtering system can provide. We also take up our own responsibility as members of the wider community, and, at any time we see inappropriate or concerning material – then we alert the safety commission via their website: www.esafety.gov.au We also work to empower our children to keep their friends safe, those that are perhaps more vulnerable and more easily swayed – we keep in conversation with them. And, be brave – when it’s time, turn their phone off – in person, or remotely. Platforms alone are not dangerous but the way in which they are used, can be.

As the journalist alluded to in 1997 when writing of Princess Diana’s tragic death, it was all too easy to point the finger of blame at the paparazzi or the driver or the media, generally. It was so much harder to look within to our own individual responsibilities. I think social media demands us to do so – to look within, and to exercise agency in supporting our children’s safe practices online. The TikTok challenge is one for us all.

References

Roberts, R. (2017). ‘Diana and the media: She used them, and they used her. Until the day she died.’The Washington Post. 27 August 2017.

Rolfe, B. (2020). ‘Why Aussie schools are telling parents to keep their children off TikTok today’. Yahoo News. September 8. 2020.

Samuelson, K. (2017). ‘The Princess and the Paparazzi: How Diana’s Death Changed the British Media’. Time. 27 August 2017.

Sanger, D. and Barnes, J. (2020). ‘Is TikTok More of a Parenting Problem Than a Security Threat?’ The New York Times. 7 August 2020.

Squires, W. (2020). ‘Don’t just blame TikTok - blame the parents, too’. The Sydney Morning Herald. September 13, 2020.

On The Power Of Ink-Stained Hands

27 May 2021

I was in my early 20s and working at a printery in Milan as an interpreter.

‘…On one particular day, I was invited to take part in the process of printing. Later, I remember sitting on a tram on my way home and looking down at my hands – they were covered in ink that couldn’t easily be removed. In that moment, I knew that I wanted to be an artist, I wanted to work with my hands…’

Emma Davies, (exhibiting artist, Facets Art Exhibition), is a Melbourne-based artist with an established reputation for innovative and creative installations in both the private and commercial sectors

The annual ‘In Conversation’ breakfast that is a foundational aspect of Fairholme’s Facets Art Exhibition again yielded poignant insights into the creative world and the way in which life choices can be discovered. Local artists, David Usher and Katie Whyte, joined a panel with Emma Davies and local gallerist and USQ academic, Alexandra Lawson, for a rich conversation facilitated by Helen Lange. Helen is part of our Publications and Promotions team and herself, an accomplished artist. The lively discussion centred around the positive creative impacts of the COVID lockdown, the role of curators in Art Exhibitions, gallerists in supporting artists and, of great interest to me, the trigger for pursuing a career as an artist. David Usher recounted his first trip to the Art Gallery in Brisbane as a high school student and its profound impact – like Emma, it provided ‘a decisive career moment’ for him.

As I sat listening to the vibrancy and diversity of their stories, I was struck by the impact of one person, one event, one experience – upon their life choices. Whilst I cannot pinpoint my own decision to teach with such clarity, I can recall teachers of note, and I can easily reimagine lessons and discussions that had a similarly profound impact upon me. For the St Peters’ students in the Fairholme community taught by Mike Selleck in English or Modern History, you may share the same reverence for this teacher who was wise, innovative and unparalleled in his love of his subject areas. I am ever grateful for those precious lessons and whilst they can never be mirrored or replicated, I am hopeful they have informed my own classroom practice – somewhere, somehow – just a little. Careers and life journeys are invariably punctuated by unchartered pathways along with straight, well-lit roads; we are still very much a sum of all those whom we have met and all those experiences that may appear unconnected but invariably are.

Emma’s father was an artist and her mother a fashion designer, so one might sit back and see inevitability in her career choice. But she found her own path, forged her own way and her parents gave her space to do so. Finding ourselves too ATAR-focused or obsessed with the attainment of a specific university course may have merit, but danger lurks powerfully in the practice of scriptwriting set in the stone of expectation. Life does not (or should not) reach its pinnacle heights as a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old. Millions of other experiences, events and people have yet to make their footprint. I love the image of Emma, seated on a tram in Milan, staring down at her print-stained hands and realising her career path for the very first time. It has a romanticism about it, but it also speaks to the need to trust that our children can and will find a path, sometimes the one less travelled. Our hardest job as parents is always the one where we stand on the sideline – the referee has a whistle in hand, not us, and we cannot intervene in the outcome – where we allow our children to take and accept risk.

Robert Howard, in a letter to The Guardian newspaper on 29 April nudges us to the importance of allowing our children some roaming, deviating and risk-taking in their learning – my children, particularly, seem to have taken advice like this to heart. They have not chosen the linear pathway and that has caused me some deep parental angst but also led them to life-changing opportunities. They teach me over and over again that I cannot write their life script and nor can I expect it to be followed.

We may find that, by not exposing children to risk, we are creating adults with a dangerously false perspective on what liberty is, having had no experience of it. I am convinced it is a right that children with the freedom to roam learn for themselves. (Robert Howard)

For now, on my next tram trip, whenever and wherever that may be, I’ll be seeking out the young woman with ink-stained hands, a smile of promise, and the world unfurling in her direction.

Reference

Potter, K. and Howard, R. (2021). ‘The good old days when children were free to play’. The Guardian. 29 April 2021.

‘Tis The Season of The Arts

13 May 2021

‘Creativity takes courage.’ Henri Matisse

It is the season of The Arts at Fairholme – from a pre-Eisteddfod concert to Eisteddfod performances to Interhouse Choir and Facets – our annual art Exhibition-nudging closely, and, of course on-going Musical rehearsals. I’ve been privileged to hear and see some of these magical Arts moments in the past fortnight. These are some of those Fairholme occasions that exist to remind us of the specialness of this place.

My parents accompanied me to the Pre-Eisteddfod Concert, perhaps with a little trepidation; would they enjoy it? After half an hour or so I whispered to my father, ‘Would you like to go now?’ He returned a look that I remember well from childhood – the one that says, ‘don’t be ridiculous’, without a word being spoken. They stayed until the end of the concert. ‘That’s difficult repertoire they’ve conquered,’ said my father: high praise!

As I write this article, I’ve just walked past the Assembly Hall on the way to my office and chanced upon a Sunday afternoon rehearsal for our combined school musical with Toowoomba Grammar. The specialist dancers were rehearsing a tap number with Molly Harm in the lead – I paused and watched. It wasn’t just the skill that drew me in but their delight – deep enjoyment evident, alongside focus. That was my observation too, on Thursday evening when a Musical rehearsal in our hall drew me in with its sound and the adrenalin that attaches itself to such performance. How fortunate we are to be able to provide such opportunities for our students and how fortunate we are that they seize those opportunities with spirited enthusiasm and commitment. The August unveiling of ‘The Show Must Go On’ holds great promise.

But, I admit, Interhouse Choir is a favourite. It’s a spectacle that’s hard to put into words. It’s a ‘pinch yourself’ occasion, where one asks – is this really happening in a school on a Friday afternoon? Each of our House conductors and House groups demonstrated the precious synergy between leadership and ‘followship’. What cultural strength enables a full House, to achieve unison in musical focus, school uniform and presentation on stage? There were musicality differences – weaknesses and strengths for all but the sense of ‘team’ was palpable. The sound – a delight. The sense of achievement – overwhelming. Of course, selection of a winner had focus but I doubt that anyone sitting in that hall could have missed the magic of being present nor the unity of being part of a House group.

Years ago, I was privileged to attend a ‘Brightest and Best’ concert which involved the combined voices of a number of school choirs (including Fairholme) held at St. John’s Cathedral in Brisbane. Dr Ralph Morton, who at that time was National Chairman of RSCM Australia and Director of Music at St. Stephen’s Cathedral, shared introductory remarks. They have stayed with me. He extolled the benefits of choir as a team activity. Whilst many of the parents in the audience had no doubt also stood on sidelines at sporting venues, he recanted a number of examples from research which indicate the team benefits of being part of a choir. Invariably, we tend to think of team skills as the sole premise of sporting activities, but the level of unity required to achieve an effective choral performance runs parallel.

On Friday it was easy to see this and to share the students’ excitement, anticipation, and air of confident expectancy. We learn a lot in teams – including the requisite courage to do that which we might never choose to do, solo. Stacy Horn in her article ‘Ode to Joy’ reminds that ‘music is awash with neurochemical rewards for working up the courage to sing.’ Furthermore, she refers to singing as ‘our most perfect drug and the ultimate mood regulator.’

Music matters, it is incontestable that The Arts enrich us as people, and it does take courage to be creative. What a privilege it has been to see so much Arts action in the past fortnight – here’s to the joys (and exhaustion) associated with the Eisteddfod. Don’t forget to buy your Facets tickets, either.

Reference

Horn, S. (2013). ‘Ode to Joy – join a choir. Science shows it’ll make you feel better.’

Lest We Forget

29 April 2021

Another Anzac Day has passed – each one unique in the way it observes the contributions of Australians and New Zealanders…

Another Anzac Day has passed – each one unique in the way it observes the contributions of Australians and New Zealanders who have served their nations in war, conflict or peace-keeping operations. Last year, this occurred via my driveway and this year, I found myself at Webb Park with a number of our Boarders and Boarding staff, ‘lighting up the dawn’ and marking the occasion via a pre-recorded RSL service. It wasn’t the Dawn Service that I have attended religiously for so many years, but it was an important commemorative gesture, nonetheless. On Friday, our whole school had joined on the lawn adjacent to the Performing Arts Building for an Anzac commemoration. Such occasions are powerful – they demand our silence and our attention, and they require us to pause and earmark history: lest we forget.

Rightly or wrongly, I always find myself drawn back in my thinking to Gallipoli, such has been the impact of that narrative upon the way I consider Anzac Day. In 2013 I was privileged to travel to Gallipoli, albeit via an interminably long bus trip with a Turkish tour guide who was trying to present a palatable version of events to tourists of different nationalities and different national allegiances. He tried. So too did the Spanish tourist who must have inadvertently joined the tour without knowledge of Gallipoli nor sufficient English to process the volumes of information being shared over the course of that long day.

It is impossible not to be moved by the landscape of Gallipoli – particularly, the diminutive size of the beach landing site or The Nek (of Mel Gibson fame) where nearly 350 Western Australians became casualties in just a few minutes on a battlefield similar in size to a Netball court. Lone Pine also, is small and whilst the name looms largely in narratives about Anzac Day it appears almost vulnerable at its location. One can see from the beach, the second ridge where the Australians were ordered to stop for morning tea. Nine months and 8000 deaths later, they had travelled little distance beyond this point.

But what moved me most profoundly at Gallipoli was seeing the healing words of Ataturk that were attributed to him in 1934 and carved for posterity into marble at Anzac Cove. These beautifully-crafted words (though not without some contention about who the target audience was) form the open letter he allegedly wrote to the mothers of the Australian, New Zealand, Canadian and British soldiers who had died on the Gallipoli battlefields:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives… You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore, rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours... You, the mothers who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

So, a war narrative can also be read, to some extent, as a peace narrative, and for those who have travelled to Turkey you will know the high regard in which Aussies are considered by so many locals. Irrespective of whether these words were directed to mothers or were merely part of a hastily written speech by Ataturk, delivered by one of his ministers, at Gallipoli in 1934 as a gesture of reconciliation with the (then) British Empire, is a matter for historians. For me, it is an olive branch of sorts, one that sits awkwardly juxtaposed against the detritus of a battle that was ill-conceived, poorly executed, and hauntingly catastrophic.

Forgiveness, reconciliation and clemency are tough concepts for all of us and if this Ataturk gesture has a mythological basis, I’m still keen to honour whatever threads of truth are weft within his words, etched in marble at Anzac Cove. Because, I am ever reminded of the words of First World War I British poet, Wilfred Owen, who warned against us glorifying the myth of war in his epic work: ‘Dulce Et Decorum Est’. Instead, may we value peace and reconciliation as ideals for which to strive…

Lest we forget, this Anzac Day and all that are to follow.

The Finish Line

31 March 2021

Why are elite athletes able to speed up when they see the finish line?

In 2018, journalist Alex Hutchinson asked this very question: Why are elite athletes able to speed up when they see the finish line? In other words, why can some people finish with strength, and others find ways to avoid end points or lose momentum or simply give up? Hutchinson draws from the research of Dr Martin Paulus who says that elite athletes are trained to ‘accept discomfort without panicking’, as their training builds both tolerance and resilience to endure that which is uncomfortable.

There is no doubt that finish lines, both literal and metaphoric, can be inherently uncomfortable. Even sitting on the sideline of the Year 9/10 Toowoomba Secondary Schools Sports Association Basketball grand final on Friday evening wrought its own discomfort for spectators. Our Fairholme team lost valiantly by one point to an equally determined St Joseph’s team. There was no giving up in sight, and one whistle blow might have turned the final result – but it didn’t. That is the beauty of sport; it keeps us honest right until the end of a match. We are required to keep going. Schools are filled with finish lines, end points and conclusions that have high stakes and some that don’t. Irrespective of the weight of importance, the ability to stay committed and in the present, right until the siren sounds, signifies depth of character.

Close enough to a decade ago, my daughter (never one to approach life in any way than at full pace) commenced her teaching career in Brixton, London, at a school for students with complex educational needs and disabilities. Not surprisingly, my husband and I fielded tearful phone calls about how hard it was for her. From a distance, or even at close range, there was nothing we could do directly do to make her daily finish line any easier to navigate. She recalls that I would say to her, almost with annoying regularity (as parents are wont to do) – ‘You just have to show up. These kids aren’t used to that. They’re used to people giving up, retreating, or finding what they believe to be,a better offer.’ I am proud to say she stuck it out for two years – she kept turning up. Of course, she didn’t just turn up, she turned up with determination and a will to succeed. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t want to leave when her visa finished, she had fallen in love with the school and the students, she had made a difference to them and, in a priceless gift of reciprocity, they made an even greater difference to her. Her mental toughness yielded learning for a lifetime and her character cut its teeth on hard work.

In Hutchinson’s article (2018) he refers to French researcher, Cabanac, whose study published in 1986 described volunteers sitting against a wall with their knees bent and no other support. Different participants were offered different financial rewards for enduring the associated pain, and the money was ‘banked’ at intervals of 20 seconds. Those offered more money lasted longer. What was demonstrated through the study was that the participants’ ability to persist depended on brain factors, rather than just muscle endurance. The researcher’s proposal is that the brain generates the sense of our effort and therefore how we feel; thus, how we approach difficult moments is directly affected by how we think – even in highly physical settings. Behaviourists would concur that how we think leads to how we feel – which is why their work is focused on recognising, reframing and rephrasing our self-talk.

Healthy self-talk doesn’t take all the pain away, unfortunately. There is no silver bullet when it comes to endurance. The gold medal doesn’t, by routine, go automatically to the person who is willing to suffer more (Hutchinson, 2014). In fact, researchers would argue that ‘without the feedback of pain, we can’t pace ourselves’ (Hutchinson, 2014). Where does that leave us then, when we face another conclusion point, reluctantly or otherwise? It leaves us to remember that discomfort is part of the process, but how we view it and talk about it (particularly to ourselves) has a significant effect upon how well we approach and cross finish lines. The mind does need to have the capacity to overcome or manage obstacles and so too do students – without parental or teacher intervention. Life will deal us all Brixton moments – often far more complex than those my daughter addressed. But when we do address them, we also allow ourselves silver-lining possibilities and precious learning that helps us to navigate our worlds more effectively.

It’s why Fairholme girls will continue to hear me talk about finishing well, and why I will unapologetically continue to utilise sporting analogies about third and fourth quarters or the sounds of the final siren … because the ability to address the discomfort of any end point is a life skill. ‘You can’t pace yourself, or win a race, without pain. So, the gold medalist isn’t necessarily the athlete who suffers the most, after all. … She is the one who uses the pain best’ (Hutchinson, 2014) and the one who, over time, develops the capacity to speed up, or develop strength and momentum, when a finish line is looming.

References

Hutchinson, A. (2014). ‘Training to live with pain: What we can learn from Olympic athletes.’

Hutchinson, A. (2018). ‘Why are elite athletes able to speed up when they see the finish line?’

12 Seconds

18 March 2021

What’s 12 seconds worth? If you were asked to wait for 12 seconds to receive your take-away coffee, or for a red light to change to green, or the air conditioner to take effect, you’d barely flinch. For a 100 metre sprinter it’s an impressive time, though not Olympic-worthy. For most of us, though, it’s a somewhat irrelevant detail, a quick passage of time that passes, often unnoticed.

For a swimmer – particularly, a sprinter –12 seconds is monumental. Yet, it is more than the difference between first and last in a race; it is also the quantitative depiction of years of training, and a measurement of effort, work and improvement. Teacher, psychologist and author, Angela Duckworth, would describe 12 seconds of betterment in a 50-metre swimming race as a representation of ‘grit’ – ‘the passion and perseverance for very long-term goals’ (Duckworth, 2013).

Listening to this year’s Swimming Captain, Lily Seckler speak to the TSSS (Toowoomba Secondary Schools) swimmers at their dinner, was a privilege. There were lots of reasons to delight in Lily’s speech; she is a reluctant public speaker and yet her words were considered, deeply reflective and delivered with clarity and honesty. Through this, the hard work of committed swimmers – those girls who religiously inhale chlorine and form a deep attachment with early mornings and straight black lines – was recognised and acknowledged.

Of course, what any dedicated athlete learns is so much more than an improvement in technique and time. They learn that ‘it’s not the will to win that matters — everyone has that. It’s the will to prepare to win that matters.’ (American Football Coach Paul 'Bear' Bryant). The will to prepare means practice and for a swimmer that equates to hours too numerous to count.

Lily shared some of her own poolside journey – her sense of achievement in the 12 seconds that she has shaved from her 50-metre backstroke time over the past seven years. Imagine how many kilometres of swimming and how many hours of practice constitute that 12 seconds of tangible improvement. Lily also spoke of swimming in terms of perseverance, work ethic and disappointment; so much about life learning achieved is in those early morning and late afternoon daily sessions. It was the word 'disappointment' that struck me the most. Lessons in disappointment are hard to manage for us all but they can also drive us on to betterment of ourselves and our achievements. When we apply Duckworth’s grit and allow ourselves to learn disappointment, we allow ourselves to learn growth.

As a researcher, Angela Duckworth went with her team to West Point Military College to predict which cadets would stay in the Defence forces and which wouldn’t; they studied beginning teachers in difficult schools to see who would persevere and who wouldn’t, and they even went to the National Spelling Bee to see if they could predict those who would advance furthest in the competition (Duckworth et. al. 2013). Their findings? The most significant predictor of success was not IQ, physical health or social intelligence, it was … grit. Stanford University lecturer and researcher, Dr Carol Dweck, refers to the application of grittiness as developing a growth mindset. The term itself has had a lot of focus, particularly in the burgeoning field of positive psychology, but that doesn’t diminish its relevance.

Last week, Fairholme girls lined the path for our TSSS swimmers as they headed to their interschool competition. These tartan-clad well-wishers were there vocally willing each swimmer on to her best performance, but more than that, they were, consciously or not, celebrating grit, hard work and perseverance, or, in Dweck’s language, they were acknowledging the effects of a growth mindset. Twelve seconds makes a huge difference in a 50-metre swimming race.

Of greater significance, in the life arena, is the immeasurable value of a work ethic established through perseverance and, perhaps of even greater importance, the ability to grow through disappointment. Here’s a nod to our athletes, musicians and academics who model, live and flourish through their commitment to practice, and their willingness to move their own skill levels far beyond that which is easily accomplished.

Twelve seconds can reveal a great deal about us, and matter far more than we imagine. Yes, 12 seconds can represent so much more than a delay in a take-away coffee service.

References

Duckworth, A. (2013). TED Talk Transcript of ‘Grit: The power of passion and perseverance’  Ted Talk video ›

With Respect…

04 March 2021

New York Times journalist, Annie Gottlieb, defines respect as ‘the appreciation of the separateness of the other person, of the ways in which he or she is unique.’

Respect and respectful relationships are fundamental to our wellbeing, founded upon our thoughtful appreciation of one another, and our connections with one another. We learn them in community be that at home, school, or in other forums – but we learn about respect through and with others. [Our] ‘young people learn by watching. They look for cues as to how to behave in situations where they have little experience. They listen to the words and they watch the finger pointing’ (Scott, 2021). They watch adults and peers to gain cues about what acceptable behaviour is and what respectful relationships look like. When role models are scarce or even when they are plentiful, we cannot forget that social media too, has its own pervasive messages.

Right now, a media flood is calling us to account, and demanding that we all reflect very keenly on the way in which relationships are conducted respectfully – or not – our relationships at school, in workplaces and at home. If you haven’t read the speech delivered by Asher Learmonth – Head Prefect at Cranbrook Grammar (*see reference list) – then do – it may give insight into an endemic view of females; although I would argue that this is not just the province of single sex schools but more generally evident in society. Look to the highest echelons of the nation’s capital, where we are being asked questions that aren’t easily answered. But answer, we must. We are being called to answer what responsibility we have as individuals, and as a collective, in permitting women to be objectified too often, in too many circumstances. Further, we are being asked to consider what consent is, and what it isn’t.

Consent education typically focuses on legality – at what age and under what circumstances sexual activity is legal or illegal. But, exploring other consent issues must be a focus for us all. We are told that consent needs to be taught from kindergarten, or younger, and that it doesn’t just equate with sexual consent. Consent occurs whenever a person gives permission for something to happen, when they clearly say yes, voluntarily, and without being pressured. In any context where choice matters, ‘consent isn’t about doing whatever we want until we hear the word no (Hendriks, 2021)’. Allowing our very youngest to develop skills of consent can be as simple as: ‘Do you want to give a hug, or do you want to wave goodbye?’ (Carr, 2021). ‘Do you want to talk about that now, or would you rather reflect some more?’ When we ask our children questions and value their responses, and when we provide them with choice, then we are developing their agency in decision-making, even in the seemingly mundane. The earlier children develop a sense of autonomy and respect for self and others, then the better placed they are to assert themselves, in the most difficult, but also in the most important of circumstances. Consent can be as simple and as difficult as a text message, saying, ‘That’s not OK.’ What a powerful, courageous, and important message that can be!

In response to the issues burning bright under the Canberra political spotlight, schools, unsurprisingly, are being told to educate more on the topics of consent, domestic and family violence, safety, sexual harassment, respectful relationships, social media use - the list of topics is endless. We do explore these topics, and often – in Thrive sessions, Year Level Meetings, Christian Studies lessons, Holmegroups, classrooms – with experts, with practitioners who work in Health, Police and legal fields, and we also do so as educators. We offer parent sessions annually on a diversity of topics – with one set for 30 March.

School principal and writer, Michael Parker has penned an excellent response to this current call for schools to do ‘more’. His recent Sydney Morning Herald article of February 28 entitled ‘Talk to your child about sexual consent – because schools can’t manage this alone’ underlines the importance of honest and often very tough conversations occurring at home, as well as at school. Parker writes, ‘Can’t schools handle this? Why home, too? First, because the people who love your child the most live there. Second, your sons or daughters can open up one-on-one in a way they probably won’t in a classroom, surrounded by their peers. Third, when the adult/child ratio is one-to-one, not hundreds-to-one, your child will get to do at least half of the talking. Fourth, you can tailor the conversation to your child’s age, experience and cultural background better than any teacher or outside lecturer.’ No, schools can’t develop assertive young women and men, alone. Talk to your daughters and your sons, about consent – in all its permeations.

At significant historical moments such as these, when the most debasing acts against women are being written about, spoken of, denied vociferously and debated with heat, I am often drawn back in time to the Stanford University Rape Case. In January of 2015, perpetrator, Brock Turner and his victim, Chanel Miller had the course of their lives irrevocably shaped and damaged through events that transpired following a ‘Frat’ party. ‘Just twenty minutes of action,’ was the way in which Brock Turner’s father offensively described his son’s sexual assault of an unconscious woman. Chanel Miller’s impact statement is a singularly powerful and compelling piece of writing – it is worth your attention. At the time, Chicago Tribune journalist, Rex Huppke, wrote that he was saving Chanel’s impact statement to share with his sons when they were old enough to understand what rape is, so that he could emphasise that it is ‘only cowards [who] blame rape on alcohol or promiscuity.’ I trust that he will also remind his sons, when they are of age, that alcohol does not strip women naked, it does not drag them across bitumen roads, nor does it commit the crime of rape. People do that. People make those choices. People perpetuate the myth also, that a drunken woman [or man] deserves whatever she [or he] gets. The Stanford Rape case exposed our deep-seated beliefs about males and females and about alcohol consumption. It asked us to play the role of judge and jury in relation to an appropriate consequence for rape. This case also revealed the parental need to protect children, from all harm, and, at times, from accountability for actions. It also reminded that one poor choice, can alter the course of life and there is no platitude, court action, school dealt punishment or rewrite of the moment that can change reality. Consequences can be life-long.

It is natural to climb to moral high ground and rail against predatory males; girls who wear ‘the wrong’ clothes and drink too much, and parents who enable that opportunity – perhaps we can do that with absolute confidence in the moral infallibility of our children, perhaps not. However, now is not the time. We are being called to pause and reflect upon our responsibilities to continue to converse with our daughters and our sons. To make change. We need to remember that it does take a strong village to raise a [strong] child. We can use the tragic Brittany Higgins story as a teachable moment. Consent is not just about sexual activity – it is required in diverse contexts, for children of any age, and it is our collective responsibility to support our youngest, most vulnerable people, to be able to say no, able to say that’s not OK and able to speak up, assertively. We sell them short if we don’t.

As we know, adolescents, by nature, seek to define themselves separately from their parents, align with their peer group over adults, and take risks. In doing so, they will make mistakes and poor choices, and as parents we can choose those times as lessons for learning, or we can cover them up, apportion blame elsewhere and minimise the effect of those choices. We can look at other’s mistakes too critically. Conversely, we can continue to work hard on our conversations, even if they are difficult, confronting, or awkward. Prioritising the building of respectful relationships and teaching consent – even to our youngest is something we need to do together.

We can, in Gottlieb’s words, appreciate the separateness of other people and value the ways in which they are unique. We can teach and learn the essence of consent in a diversity of contexts. We can do all this, with respect.

References

Carr, G. (2021). ‘What curriculum says about consent isn’t necessarily what’s taught in classrooms.’ The Sydney Morning Herald. February 28, 2021.

Hendriks, J. (2021). ‘Consent isn’t as simple as ‘no means no’. Here’s what you need to know.’ The Conversation. February 24, 2021.

Learmonth, A. (2021). ‘Our boys’ treatment of girls has been disgusting: Cranbrook prefect pleads for respect.’The Sydney Morning Herald. February 25, 2021.

Parker, M. (2021). ‘Talk to your child about sexual consent – because schools can’t manage this alone.’ The Sydney Morning Herald. February 28, 2021.

Scott, B. (2021). ‘Schools can’t end the scourge of sexual assault, adults behaving like adults can.’ The Sydney Morning Herald. February 24, 2021.

Spilled Milk

18 February 2021

‘There’s no use crying over spilt milk.’ It was a childhood truism for me, it seemed to be directed at me, often, by my practical mother and wise grandmother, especially. Perhaps I was an over-sensitive child, or magnetically drawn to that intensely human emotion of regret. Perhaps it was reflective of a time when the predominant mantra could just as easily have been, ‘Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get on with it.’ If only it were that easy … but in my childhood home there didn’t seem to be much scope for wallowing,nor the opportunity to slip too comfortably into the discourse of regret.

Yet, even now I’m pulled back to a memory, decades old. In the early morning heat of a Brisbane summer’s day, three children were standing on the footpath outside our front yard; the eldest was a girl with blond hair and a gingham dress. They were crying – crying over a shattered bottle of spilt milk, literally. It created a confusing moment for me, having been raised on the view that such a response was taboo. The confusion was cemented even more acutely because, when I ran inside (maybe even a little sanctimoniously) to report the bizarre occurrence to my mother, she looked out of the window, nodded, went inside, and grabbed her purse. Before I could make sense of the situation I found myself watching as she pressed coins into the hand of the oldest child – the blond girl in the gingham dress.

There’s a lot in that memory. My first understanding of the existence of poverty in my own neighborhood sits with a hard edge of reality in that memory, as does my mother’s pragmatic kindness. It also taught me (despite the mantra I had heard and learned) that there are times when crying over spilt milk is entirely appropriate – this was such an occasion. But, there are numerous other occasions in life where shedding metaphoric tears over milk that has been spilled is neither healthy nor helpful.

Psychologists and psychiatrists have produced a surfeit of research around this topic of regrets. Author, Mercedes Lackey, once wrote that the two saddest words in the world are ‘if only’. Whilst they can be sad and intensely wistful words, the ‘no regrets’ mantra – a feature of contemporary tattoos, hashtags and memes can be a cause for even greater alarm. Psychotherapist, Carolina Wrottsley, argues that ‘If you don’t feel regret and you’re without remorse, you [may] find yourself in the very difficult position of continuing to do something destructive without insight’ (cited in Sarner, 2019).

In other words, tears over spilled milk can, potentially, lead us on a learning path of regret, followed by remorse and eventually to an enriched way of thinking and living. Consultant psychiatrist, Carine Minne, says that remorse is ‘one of the most sophisticated experiences that someone can possibly have’ (cited in Sarner, 2019). Indeed, there is a functionality if regrets and remorse are able to propel us forward, to ensure that we avoid making the same mistakes again (MacLellan, 2018).

Like so much of our thinking, it’s not always easy to reframe. It’s easier to wallow at times, or to avoid letting go of our errors, or other’s errors; it sometimes feels that self-loathing is the most appropriate option. As Roese and Summerville (2005) discuss in their research paper, ‘What We Regret Most … And Why’, life abounds with choices – ‘some go well, some go wrong, and those gone wrong spell regret.’ I should have studied more. I should have said yes.

I should have visited him, one more time. It is the regrets of inaction that, according to researchers, take the greatest toll, particularly the inaction of our ‘unrealized idealised selves’ (Davidai and Gilovich cited in Roese and Summerville, 2005); herein our imagination can seek out limitless unfulfilled opportunities. It is here that we can find ourselves stuck in self-hatred, rigidly using it as a stick to beat ourselves into immobility.

But, regret can also spur curative action. Regret can thrust us toward revised decision making and improvement in our approaches to life – if we so choose. Life is replete with choice. We can turn right to our should, or turn left to our could (MacLellan, 2018). I could have studied more. I could have said yes. I could have visited him, one more time. Losing the imperative ‘should’ from our language can be liberating, it can push us into a space of self-acceptance and self-compassion (Sarner, 2019). When the rigidity of holding onto our shoulds is loosened, we can ask better questions about things that we might do differently in the future. We can ask, ‘I wonder why I did that?’ We can say, ‘I would prefer to have said …’ or we can commit to saying, ‘It would have been good to have done that and I didn’t – next time I will…’

If it is spilled milk that we are continuing to cry over, it is helpful to remember that it is often long forgotten by most; often smaller in size than we imagine; often cleaned away without a lingering effect. To continue to conjure it in our mind’s eye is neither helpful, nor is it healthily sustainable. When we find ourselves stuck in regrets, our narrative can be rewritten, the script revised – and it can thus propel us to forgive ourselves, forgive others and to choose our next steps, wisely.

Appropriately, this article has been prompted in part by a quotation from the novel I am currently studying alongside my Year 10 English class – The Light Between Oceans. That’s the power of literature, the importance of language, and the value of reading … yes, and it’s an unashamed plug for the subject: English!

I can forgive and forget... it is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things. (M. L. Stedman – ‘The Light Between Oceans’)

References

Connolly T, Zeelenberg M. (2002). Regret in decision making. ‘Current Directions in Psychological Science’ › 2002;11:212–216

MacLellan, L (2018). A New Study on The Psychology of Persistent Regrets Can Teach You How To Live Now ›

Roese, N.J. and Summerville, A. (2005) What We Regret Most … and Why › in ‘Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin’.

Sarner, M. (2019) Regret Can Seriously Damage Your Mental Health – Here’s How to Leave It Behind › ‘The Guardian’. 27 June 2019.

Stedman, M.L. (2012). The Light Between Oceans. Random House Australia. North Sydney.

For A New Beginning

4 February 2021

Though your destination is not clear

You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning

That is one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure

Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk

Soon you will be home in a new rhythm.

John O’Donohue, ‘For a New Beginning’

And thus, as a College we begin again – 2021 awaits us with its empty canvas, and its multi-coloured palette beckoning the first paint stroke. Usually, I enjoy a good beginning – be that a book, a film, the first sip of a morning coffee or … a new school year. There is nothing like the energy that circulates at a first-term start, nothing. Personally, I tend to cultivate my own feelings of excitement by over-planning and over-organising for what lies ahead, lest anxiety take its uninvited foothold. While I enjoy imagining the year ahead, I admit to a bubbling nervousness too – one that sweeps through my thinking and often begins unhelpfully with the words – What if? A persistent question this year being: What if 2021 follows the COVID pattern of 2020? We often erroneously interpret the new year’s energy as being singularly excitement and passion for the possibilities ahead. For many it is. Yet, we also know that for others, the anxiety of beginning often feels overwhelming. Stress. Expectation. Disappointment. Separation. There are other feelings that lurk in the heady promise of a new beginning – they too are important to acknowledge and manage and reframe.

If you were to draw a continuum with excitement at one end and fear counterpoised at the other, you would capture the feelings inherent in substantial beginnings. We all sit on that metaphoric continuum whenever we approach significant starts – the names of the feelings can vary, but the underpinning adrenalin rush exists for us all.

As commencement becomes imminent, we may find ourselves moving from one end of the continuum to the other, rapidly.

The Junior School girl who donned her uniform two weeks before the first day of school and wore a tartan ribbon every day throughout the holidays may refuse to budge from the back seat of the car on day one. The Boarder who has professed her readiness to begin at Fairholme, for years, and who packed her bags meticulously in December, is devastated when her parents leave. Suddenly the excitement evaporates, and fear takes its place. Conversely, the child you anticipate will not manage a beginning with ease, does. Yes, we all do beginnings differently, and differently in different situations, too.

As parents, we too can be confronted by our own sense of loss when our holiday rhythm or life rhythm is abruptly recalibrated through the intervention of school. Those same feelings of stress, expectation, disappointment and separation can emerge within us. On my son’s first day at school, I was busying myself by putting his books in his tidy tray when I felt an uninvited and unexpected wash of sadness – the rude awareness that this was my youngest child’s beginning and thus the conclusion of a phase of parenting I had enjoyed. Reality bit hard with the sharpest of teeth. Fortunately, my own stab of sadness didn’t seem to affect him at all. Whilst I tried to maintain a semblance of control by placing his school life in order, he turned to me and said, ‘You can go now, if you like. I’m ready.’ Five-year-old Mitchell was better prepared for a new beginning than his mother was.

On Thursday, at our Commencement Assembly, Tatum Stewart (Senior, 2019) spoke about beginnings. Insightfully, Tatum observed that ‘beginnings more often than not bestow immense anxiety, uncertainty, and even restlessness.’ As an accomplished National Hockey player, Tatum understands the value of preparation; and she also knows the surge of adrenalin that inevitably hovers before a big game, and that it can be called exhilaration or named as anxiety: our choice.

In sporting contexts, too, the sliding continuum of fear versus excitement also exists, and how we brand our adrenalin rushes, matters. The branding and the words we use all colour the canvas and dictate the outcome. In a lovely reflection on her first game of Hockey – as a three year old – Tatum described her father dragging her by the hand, onto the field. He promised her that if she hated it, she didn’t have to play, again. But she took the field and, to be cliched, she hasn’t looked back.

Yes, every time we begin again, whatever the circumstance, we simply have to take the field. Spectating, standing tremulously on the sideline or refusing to participate limit our opportunities and truncate our potential. Anxious or excited – we simply have to step up and take to the field. We have to. In the words of poet, John O’Donohue, we have to promise the beginning, hold nothing back, and learn to take ease in risk, because when we do so, we will find ourselves at ho[l]me in a new rhythm, a rhythm that unfurls its unexplored possibilities.

At Fairholme, let us all take to the field with determination in 2021.

Fairholme In January 2021

21 January 2021

Dear Members of the Fairholme Family.

Welcome to a new school year and a fresh start for all. No doubt, this newsletter comes as a relief to some that ‘normal’ life is returning, for others it is more intrusive, marking the end of holiday time or for others it heralds the reality a significant change. We do look forward with optimism towards a challenging and rewarding year of learning, despite the hovering presence of COVID-19.

I particularly welcome all new students and families who are beginning their Fairholme journey. I know that many girls have been preparing for this new chapter in their education with a shifting mixture of excitement and trepidation, as have their parents. We are excited to welcome an influx of students, an influx that means a full boarding house (with a waiting pool of students) and strong day student enrolments across the College. We are hopeful of greater face-to-face opportunities with all this year, albeit with mindfulness about health requirements and expectations, as well as the adaptability to adjust plans if and when it is necessary.

I am conscious that irrespective of whether your child is brand new to school, becoming a boarder for the first time or simply returning to school after holidays, it is important to consider that there is an emotional impact of new beginnings. Major milestones and transitions can bring exhilaration; they can also be challenging or frightening, especially for those who are completely satisfied with their current routines.

How can we best support our children in the midst of all this newness?

• Speak positively about your child’s school and teachers
• Help your child visualize her/his new environment
• Allow your child to keep a transitional object nearby
• Always say “goodbye”
• Give it time - be gentle with yourself and allow the entire family some time to adjust. (Vien, L. 2020).

As the beginning of the school year beckons, I ask that you keep a close look at the College web site or phone app (details to follow) for start-up information, or to contact the administration office (07) 4688 4688 should you have any further queries.

Building and Maintenance

As is typical of the holiday period, significant refurbishment and upgrades to buildings and grounds have occurred in readiness for students’ return. Whilst the quality of teaching, learning and pastoral care will always be sited first in our school context, we are also grateful for spaces and areas that enhance learning and living for our students and our staff.

The following areas may directly affect your daughter or you: the Year 1 and Year 2 classrooms have been refurbished and are stunning learning areas for some of our youngest; Ms Catrina Sharp, Deputy Principal and her assistant have relocated to the offices adjacent to the Amy Carson Room; the Long Jump tartan run up has been re-laid and awaits the feet of our keen athletes and there have been numerous occasions of painting, polishing and refurbishing of spaces that have occurred over the break, also. Grateful thanks are extended to our grounds and maintenance staff who have been pivotal in many of these projects, along with attending to their regular maintenance and tending the gardens throughout the holidays.

We anticipate with excitement that mid-2021 will see the beginning of Stage 1 of our Masterplan: the construction of a three-storey administration and classroom building, along with the reconfiguration of our current administration building, as an assembly/chapel/function space.

Congratulations

If you have accessed our website, you may have already noted the strong academic achievements of the senior cohort of 2020. Whilst we will acknowledge these girls more formally at the Commencement Assembly and Induction of Leaders on Thursday 28 January, we express our pride in their accomplishments, as well as appreciation of the work of our teachers and families who have journeyed with these young women. Our 2020 seniors have such diverse and significant opportunities that lie ahead, and we are excited by their promising futures. We have watched the release of university offers with great interest.

Fairholme Communique 2021

Please note that our communiqué with you is predominantly electronic – through the phone app, via the Parent Lounge of MyFairholme, or e-mail. We understand that some boarder families have limited, or intermittent internet access and we will continue to send communication via mail to these families.

For any parents who require hard copy information, we ask that you contact the administration office or Fairholme Communications. To facilitate effective and timely communication, we require each family’s current e-mail address and mobile phone details and for this to be updated with immediacy should a change occur during the school year.

E-mail: [email protected]

Phone: 07 4688 4688

All ‘start-up’ school year information is on-line. You can access this through the Parent Lounge, via login at the College web site › Parent Lounge

For those new to the Fairholme family, I trust that you have already loaded our phone app which we utilise to notify you of any urgent information, calendar changes, provide reminders about significant events, or as a quick avenue for notices such as bus return times from excursions, or camps.

Please contact the administration office (07) 4688 4688 if you require assistance with accessing the app.

Health

Those who have been affected directly by border closures and Brisbane’s lockdown will be aware of the speed with which life can be affected by the presence of COVID-19 within the community. For now, that is our collective reality and The College will continue to actively monitor and enact Public Health advice responsively and in accordance with requirements. We will make changes to College routines and practices as required to ensure the health of our community and, at times, this may have to occur quickly and may be disruptive to our plans. Thank you in anticipation of your patience and full support.

We are reminded that the following health practices are a given in our community:

• Stay home if I’m sick
• Get tested if I have COVID-19 symptoms and remain in isolation until a negative result is received
• Maintain physical distance when and where appropriate to do so
• Clean hands often with soap or sanitiser
• Cover coughs and sneezes
• Get the flu shot to help prevent the spread of germs

Online Safety/Family Zone

We continue to work with former staff member and founder of Stymie, Rachel Downie, to enable our students to report concerns they have about their friends and peers. The Stymie platform allows students from Years 5 to 12 to report harm, suspected harm, or any concerning behaviours of their friends and peers: on-line and anonymously. This triggers an email alert for key pastoral staff who then meet with the student of concern, and work with her to address the issues identified, in a manner with which she is most comfortable.

A further part of our approach to address issues of cyber safety has led us to develop a school and parent partnership with Familyzone – Australia’s leading provider of cyber safety and security services to schools and parents. It is a cyber-safety solution that protects children on the internet wherever they are; at home, at school, and everywhere in between. As parents you are able to manage your child/ren’s online activity, with ongoing support from a team of leading cyber experts.

The Familyzone app is installed on all College laptops, and this enables the College to monitor use of technology whenever students are logged in to the school network.

At any point if you need further assistance, you can contact the Family Zone Support Team on 1300 398 326 to access information about installation or with any questions you may have.

Head of Information and Communication Technology, Mr Chau Chuc will work through the app with new Boarder families on 27 January and is available to talk through its applications to any day parents.

Staffing Matters

We warmly welcome our twenty new staff members who will be working across the campus in a range of roles, as well as current staff who are moving into new roles for 2021. The number of new staff reflects retirements that occurred at the end of last year as well as growth that has occurred through our strong enrolments.

Senior Leaders 2021

We look forward to supporting our Year 12 cohort as they step up to the challenge of leading Fairholme College throughout 2021. We are excited about the abilities and enthusiasm they bring to this important a role and look forward to acknowledging each member of the senior cohort at the Senior Commencement Assembly.

This occasion is a celebration of the commencement of our school year. It also acknowledges our 2020 cohort, Senior School academic award winners for Semester Two 2020 and, particularly, it welcomes our Senior leaders for 2021.

All Year 12 parents are welcome and encouraged to celebrate this important milestone and, as always, we enjoy the opportunity to celebrate with you. Current restrictions enable two family members per Year 12 student to attend. No RSVP is required for your Year 12 daughter. Our plan is to host morning tea afterwards, should restrictions permit this at that time; currently they do not. If this becomes possible, we will let families know.

* We will be streaming the Assembly and further details will be sent via communications, closer to the event. Please use Fairholme Connect Events › to RSVP for two family members per Year 12 student.

We are delighted to welcome back Tatum Stewart (Senior 2019) as our guest speaker.

We also congratulate our Prefects and Captains for the year; their names, along with those of the Middle School Leaders are available: 2021 Middle & Senior School Leaders ›

Finally…

As we look forward to a promising and enriching 2021, I hope that you are able to engage in the school community throughout the year, including those scheduled in the near future. Any changes that may need to occur because of the impact of COVID-19 will be communicated with as much notice as is possible. Thank you for your understanding and flexibility.

Kind regards

Dr Linda Evans | Principal