Misrule

I was very lucky tonight to have the opportunity to attend a fundraiser for The Song Room, a charitable organisation that puts professional singers and musicians into disadvantaged schools for sustained music education programs. (It's a brilliant organisation, reaching some 100,000 of the country's kids who most need it—check it out.)

And even luckier, earlier in the day, to attend a concert—"The Warbles Go to the Opera"—for 2000 (count 'em!) students from NSW public schools, which introduced them with humour and energy and incredible talent on the part of the five performers (four opera singers and a pianist) to musical theatre and opera. Both events were held at the Sydney Opera House.

For many of these kids, it was their first exposure to a theatrical experience—and their first visit to the Opera House, our most recognisable and arguably most significant cultural icon. I walked past some kids as they were coming into the Concert Hall foyer for the concert, and they were belting up the stairs, so excited, and one boy I walked past shouted out—"It's so beautiful!"

Oh yeah.

Tonight's fundraiser was in the norther foyer of the Opera House, under the big end sail, with the Harbour Bridge and Luna Park making a stunning and somewhat distracting backdrop. Musical entertainment was supplied by Tim Freedman and Vanessa Amorosi, and the evening was MC'd by Julia Zemiro.

I bonded with Ms Zemiro after she introduced Tim Freedman by reminiscing about her memories of him back in the 80s when he was lead singer of Penguins on Safari. Now, the Penguins were actually a band put together by some good mates of mine from my undergrad days at Macquarie Uni. Tim was a USyd boy, but we were pretty happy to have him as an honorary Macquarian, given his ska band Itchy Feet had graced our union bar many times.

Funny how this stuff happens. Just last week I spoke to Ken, bassist (?) with Penguins, for the first time in about five years. He's now working as a teacher in a school for kids with behavioural problems and is starting to introduce music therapy into his program. And last weekend, while (at last!) cleaning out boxes of ancient stuff stored in my dad's garage, I found a scrapbook that included a playlist from an Itchy Feet gig.

Tim played three songs, including a section from "Love This City", which, as he explained, was in part a tribute to his first visit (on a school excursion) to the Opera House, where he first saw John Olsen's "Five Bells" mural, inspired by the Slessor poem, which Tim had known and liked. So was brought together literature, art, music and, most significantly, education.

And hopefully, many dollars were raised so that this good work can continue to grow.

Days like today leave me tired and footsore (damned high heels), but very humbled and inspired by the dedicated work of artists and educators committed to making a real and tangible difference to the lives of young people.

(My blog entry title comes from the lyrics of a song performed at the fundraiser tonight by kids from a school in Sydney's western suburbs. )

My young friend Rafael turned seven today! He's in Year 1 and has recently graduated to confident reading of chapter books—Captain Underpants being the choice du jour.

Here is Raffy with his birthday books (sans a book about Vampyres, which kind of freaked him out). His Captain Underpants gift books are obscured behind his head, and his Captain Underpants underpants are obscured by his clothing. (This is not that kind of blog!) The three books on your right are the ones I gave him: Eoin Colfer's The Legend of the Worst Boy in the World (illustrations by Tony Ross), Terry Denton's Wombat and Fox: Summer in the City and Richard Tulloch and Terry Denton's Beastly Tales.

On your left is The Magic Finger by Roald Dahl, a Captain Clawbeak and the Ghostly Galleon (by Anne Morgan, illustrated by Wayne Harris), and Yin's Magic Dragon by Lau Siew Mei, illustrated by Lak-Khee Tay-Audouard. Also the first Spiderwick Chronicles by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi—and you can see the big books at the back.

And here's Raf with his Captain Underpants cake and his sister Carolina. (If you can't quite see it, the madeira cake—Raf's favourite—is decorated with icing undies.)

More photos at my flickr account.

Despite Mr Shaw's excellent advice, I still can't make this appear without the html showing. Oh well, it's messy, but at least you can see the video.

This one's for all my teacher friends. How I wish it had been around back at my friend Annie's wedding (circa 1985), when, still to graduate, I was sat at a table next to an in-law of the groom who insisted on making me defend the profession I had yet to enter...

Thanks to Annette Wannamaker, a child_lit and facebook pal, for the link. And here's more info on Taylor Mali, the slam poet in the video.

[object width="425" height="350"][param name="movie" value=http://www.youtube.com/v/RxsOVK4syxU][/param][param name="wmode" value="transparent"][/param][embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RxsOVK4syxU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"][/embed][/object]

ADDED LATER: So, can people see the video or just the HTML? I can see both from my home computer, but not the video at work. Grrr aargh...

For those interested in the fate of my Rather Old Cat (18 in October), Bridie, yesterday she visited the vet for her annual checkup. I am delighted to report that she is in extremely good health for a Feline Of Advanced Age. One dodgy tooth, but she's apparently compensating well for her declining kidney function, and is on track to make it to the Big 2-0.

Phew!

...to your nearest bookshop, because Blood Ties is now available!

Congratulations, Pamela. I hope you sell a gazillion. (And I hope Steven Spielberg is reading!)

I just posted the following on the Sydney Morning Herald's book blog:

This is necessarily off topic, Susan, as, short of the letters page, there's no other venue for asking the question:

Can we expect the SMH to pay even the slightest lip-service to the 2007 Children's Book Council of Australia awards?

The awards were announced last Friday, and I have checked the print version and googled daily, but it seems the SMH has chosen to totally ignore them.

This oversight, is, alas, no more than we in the children's lit community expect—and believe me, we're sick of banging on about it.

I'm no apologist for the CBCA awards—far from it. I'm repeatedly on the record with my criticisms of the CBCA's procedures and selections. But for better or worse, they are our country's most influential children's/YA lit awards, yet the SMH continues to either marginalise or totally ignore them.

It's an even greater shame this year, given the shortlisted and winning/honour book titles make them the most substantial awards (in my 'umble opinion) in a very long time.

The CBCA has acknowledged highly literary and challenging titles such as Margo Lanagan's "Red Spikes" (a short story collection—how often are such collections recognised in any award?), Ursula Dubosarsky's acclaimed and multi-award winning "The Red Shoe" and Shaun Tan's stunning graphic novel (also multi-award winning) "The Arrival".

The last two titles won acclaim in this year's NSW Premier's Literary Awards—"The Red Shoe" won the Ethel Turner Prize (two years running for Ms Dubosarsky), "The Arrival" was named overall Book of the Year.

These books have all received international acclaim—and I haven't even touched on the other CBCA categories (early childhood and information books).

I'd care less if the Herald chose to put the boot in—at least then we'd have grounds for a conversation. But to ignore the awards completely seems to me to be both irresponsible, wilfully uninformed and entirely regrettable.

I feel better now. Well, a tad.

I went to church today for the first time in I don't know how long. It was the 120th anniversary of the Auburn Uniting Church, where my dad was minister from 1971—1977, so for me that was from when I was aged 7 to 13. And very, very happy years they were.

The parsonage we lived in a was a beautiful Federation house with a huge backyard and an empty block next door. I attended great schools (Auburn PS and Berala PS in the OC class in Years 5 and 6), and I had wonderful friends at school and at church.

I have so many memories from those years—my treehouse, watching ants crawl through the patterned bricks in the backyard, coming out of the outdoor loo to find a rat our (male) cat Susie had killed (and locking myself back into the loo until Dad disposed of the body). Reading books in the Mulberry tree (and getting stains on Berala PS's library copy of What Katy Did), my brother pushing me into the hydrangea bushes at the end of the verandah (hang on, that might have been at Katoomba...). Climbing onto the garage roof, in defiance of Mum's anxieties, and seeing our Granddad's car get hit as he turned into our driveway.

My eldest sister Linda's boyfriends (especially Niko, the Dutch one that smoked cigars). Linda's friend Joy melting her handbag on the foootwarmer on her pew. Sitting on David King's motorbike and pretending to rev the engine. Eating fruit bread toast after Sunday evening youth services until Dad would appear, saying "I'm going to bed now so all you good people can go home". Chucking catoniasta berries at Andrew Cummings after church (alas, the bushes are long gone...).

The Victory Hall, which famously burned down a few years ago—my blog entry on this was on my old, sadly unavailable blog, but some memories are worth recounting. The ghost house set up by the older kids at the church fete. Buying a "chain of hearts" plant and Women's Weekly romance novels for five cents a piece at those fetes. The tie-dyed parachute on the ceiling of the youth group's meeting room. Playing sardines with my Friday night youth group. Acting on stage as the cow in "The King's Breakfast". Rehearsals for a failed production of "The Pyjama Game". So many performances featuring my father and his lovely singing voice.

I could go on and on and on... and maybe I should, for my own sake if no-one else's!

But on to the service today.

Back in the 70s, Auburn already had a significant Middle Eastern population—quite a difference from white-bread Katoomba, from where we were transferred. (Yes, "we"—a transfer for a church minister means a transfer for the whole family, in every sense!) Even so, the congregation back then was almost 100% Anglo, even if the shops were starting to show demographic change.

These days, the Auburn UCA congregation is largely Tongan; in fact, the church is now known as the Harold Wood congregation, after a Methodist missionary to the Kingdom of Tonga in the first half of the 20th century, and the current parish minister is a wonderful Tongan woman, the Reverend Doctor Mele Fakahua-Ratcliffe.

The church today is physically reconfigured since our day in the 70s. There are, I believe, many more pews—and 2/3rds of them were filled by the Tongan members of the congregation. And I guess a good 2/3rds of the Tongans made up the choir! (The remaining third pews had a good many Anglo folk who returned for the anniversary, although certainly some of them remain as members of the congregation to the present day.)

The service was a dual language one—in English and Tongan. And that choir! For the second time in two days, I was privileged and moved to be standing, in the cultural minority, amongst the strong, powerful voices of a culture not my own. The harmonies! The high notes, and the basso profundo.

It was also so moving to be sitting inside a building I spent so much of my childhood in. I was a bridesmaid in this church twice—first, at 13, for my eldest sister, and then in my early 20s, for my oldest friend—both brides called Linda!

The leadlight windows were plainer than memory allows, but the commemorative plaques, the WWI service board, the battered Australian Hymn Books, the pulpit (although in a different position), the backlit cross—all just as I remembered them.

Two young women were confirmed into the church during the service—one Tongan, one Anglo-Australian. I don't mean to oversate the metaphor, but this did bring together for me my (very) new and (rather) old experience of this congregation.

My dad was acknowledged by Reverend Fakahua-Ratcliffe at the end of the service (our attendance was otherwise unannounced), and he was asked to say Grace over the plentiful morning tea/lunch provided in a marquee in the church grounds after the service (oh, how it rained!). So much food! Sao biscuits and taro root. And so many old friends to meet again. My Sunday School teacher, Ruth Pegler, whose car I "bumped" into her house after inadvertently letting the handbrake off. Olwyn Hendy, our organist. Wilma Cummings, mum of my nemesis Andrew—my sister Alison used to do Wilma's ironing. And my dad's cousin, Catherine, daughter of my beloved Great Uncle Jim and Great Aunt Sarah, now one of the church's organists.

I was also so impressed that the service (and catering) were attended by Federal Member of Parliament Laurie Ferguson (jnr), Le Lam, Lady Mayor of Auburn Council, and State Member Barbara Perry. Turns out my (midwife) sister Alison attended Barbara during the births of her first two children, and we all had a long and very friendly (and very non-political) chat about health, education, family, society... Good to get to know a pollie (all-but) off duty. I first laid eyes and ears on Ms Perry at a seminar for refugee students at the NSW Parliament House some weeks ago—she impressed me them, but how much more so in person. (And she's the same age as me—that always freaks me out!)

My niece Grace accompanied us to the service—poor chookie, she was in the final throes of the World Vision 40 Hour Famine, and very patiently sat through the service, only to stuff herself silly on cake afterwards. (And even more patiently waited while her mum and aunt and grandparents caught up with the afore-mentioned old friends...)

As we drove away after the service and lunch, I couldn't help but slow (dangerously) down as I drove past the house we used to live in (despite the driving rain). The house is more beautiful than I remembered, and the garage remains, but the rose bushes tended by my mother are gone, the patterned bricks replaced by pavers, the bottle-brushes and the oleander bushes my darling grandfather over-pruned absent, my tree-house and that staining mulberry tree cut down. The vacant lot and the service station next door that I used to play in and buy my lollies from is now the Alfaisal Islamic and Arabian School—as it should and must be.

My Auburn childhood is long gone, even though I have so many more memories than are recorded here. My personally poignant memories remain safely held, even as that childhood hometown suburb has grown and changed, as shoud we all, as has my nation, as have I (I can but hope).

Call to worship:

Be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands.

Serve the Lord with gladness, and come before His presence with song.

(Psalm 100)

(From your friendly neighbourhood lapsed but not entirely unconvinced UCA confirmee.)

It's not often that, at a book launch—or indeed, pretty much anywhere in my daily life—I find myself to be in the (ethnic) minority, but it was the case today at the launch of a new picture book from Indigenous publishing house Magabala Books. The book is called Wandihnu and the Old Dugong, by Elizabeth and Wandihnu Wymarra and illustrated by Benjamin Hodges. It's the story of a young Torres Strait Islander girl, Wandihnu, who lives in Sydney with her mother and who visits her aka—her grandmother—on Badu Island in the Torres Strait for the first time.

I arrived late to the launch, half-way through the speeches, but I quickly realised that this was probably the happiest book launch I have ever attended. (I missed the actual "official" launch by the author's mother Joyce Wymarra.) Elizabeth Wymarra was full of joy and pride in her family, her culture and the book that was produced in tribute to both. Illustrator Ben Hodges and Elizabeth's 13 year old daughter and co-writer Wandihnu stood shyly by her on the stage. (Elizabeth, it seems likely to me, would never be accused of being shy—she's also a performance artist and comedian.)

Elizabeth made explicit in her speech the importance of Indigenous
publishing. "We're not just (oral) storytellers and dancers and
artists—we're educated now, we can can write and publish stories!"

Elizabeth's mother and Aunties—in gorgeous Torres Strait costume and hair dressing—were brought up to be thanked with flowers for their contributions. And the audience, of course, was made up of Sydney's Torres Strait Islander community and their friends and supporters.

One lovely moment was when one of Elizabeth's aunties took the stage to give her a gift on the occasion of the publication of the book. It was a framed photograph of Elizabeth as a child in what looked like her Sunday best.

At the end of the launch, the Aunties performed a traditional song and dance (apparently I'd missed some earlier performances), and then, led by Christine Anu, the entire audience rose to their feet and sang a song in what I assume was their Language. It was like being in church—I'm trying to avoid clichés here, so I won't say it sent shivers down my spine, but it was incredibly moving.

Sydneysiders can hear the launch, which was filmed and recorded, on 93.7FM Koori Radio on Sunday 19 August on the Torres Strait Island Ina Meriba Wakai ("This Is Our Voice") program, hosted by Helen Anu, at 2pm. (I'm not exactly sure, but I think non-Sydneysiders might also be able to listen on online. You'll just need to figure out the time difference.)

The book tells the story of Wandihnu's first visit to her aka on Badu Island. Aka tries to teach Wandihnu her Language—Kala Lagaw Ya, the traditional Language of the Western Torres Strait—but Wandihnu is impatient and wants to go swimming and play with her cousins and her new friends. Then Aka falls ill and needs Wandihnu to go to Old Dugong for a gift of his oil to make her better—but Wandihnu can't speak to Kulba Dungal, the old dugong, in Language...

Wandihnu and the Old Dugong tells, simply but effectively, the importance of Language and culture to Indigenous (and all) children. In addition to the healing oil, Kulba Dungal gives Wandihnu a phrase in Kala Lagaw Ya that she will never forget—Kursai pug aka na ka—always listen to your aka!

Ben Hodges' illustrations are executed in water colour, a medium I suspect is unusual in Indigenous art/illustrations. The illustrations and palette are gentle yet vibrant, and it's a handsome production overall.

Elizabeth signed my copy of the book "Be Blessed". Ben wrote "Hope you find a lot of warmth in this book". I am, Elizabeth, and I do, Ben.

                            

Above is the cover of Wandihnu and the Old Dugong.     The photo shows (l-r) Elizabeth, Wandihnu and Ben signing copies of their book. You can see the framed photo of young Elizabeth at the far right.

The Children's Book Council of Australia awards were announced today, and it's as strong a list of winners and honour books as I think we've seen in a long time. (Not many links here—do your own googling!)

Some well-deserved woo-hoos to some great friends and wonderful writers and illustrators! Yay Margo, Ursula, Margaret, Catherine, Libby, Meredith and Shaun—and all the shortlisted and honour book and winning folk. I guess we all expected The Arrival to be pretty much a gimme—which is not to understate Shaun's remarkable achievement with this book—but you do have to feel kind of sorry for people up against it!

It's wonderful to see such highly literary books such as Red Spikes and The Red Shoe receive proper recognition—both, I would suggest, are somewhat brave choices (although they shouldn't be). 

I think this is, overall, the most substantial list of CBCA winners and honourees in a long time. Let's see if the press pays any attention.

That's one of the great things about this job--meeting fantastic new people and catching up with old friends.

I met this remarkable young man two weeks ago. He won the SMH Plain Speaking Award and his school's team won the Premier's Debate Challenge/Hume Barbour trophy. Keep an eye out for Daniel—I anticipate great things for him.

At a conference I attended today I met up with my old head teacher from my teaching days at Westfields High (it wasn't Sports High then). Tony, who is now a school principal, was a wonderful mentor to me and a great friend, and he was the first person I've spoken to who immediately got why I was disappointed at missing out on an HD for my thesis. Thanks, Tony!

On the way home, I bumped into Margo Lanagan on Town Hall Station. It's two days until the announcement of the CBCA awards, for which Margo is shortlisted for Red Spikes. I have too many friends and favourites shortlisted to comment, but good luck Margo! And congratulations are in order—Margo has finished her new novel. I for one can't wait.

Speaking of new novels, Pamela Freeman has in her hands advanced copies of Blood Ties. It's got some excellent advance reviews Yay!

Back to the conference—I attended a terrific session about Storypaths, a pedagogical approach to teaching and learning that implements narrative structure to deliver cross-curricula programs. It's based on three levels of engagement—cognitive, affective and operative. Such fun, and so practical and successful in engaging kids in learning—and story. Yay! And we got to do craft, which was cool.

I also attended the student program, where student leaders learned how to create podcasts using the Garageband application on the Mac. (It wasn't just about learning the program, it was about giving students the opportunity to express their ideas about their schools, and how they are dealing with "intersections of disadvantage". Good stuff—good kids.) Anyway, the session got me wondering if I could use Garageband to create podcasts of my recorded interviews. Watch This Space.

I've received my results for my MA thesis. I was awarded a Distinction — just three marks off an HD, and so in my usual over-achieving fashion, I spent the past two days feeling miserable about it! I got HDs for all my course work, so to not achieve that at thesis level was a real disappointment, especially given I was working at a much higher theoretical level for the thesis than I did for my course work essays. (It has been pointed out to me that I am my own worst enemy and set the bar very high for myself...)

I admit, I am hoping that I will still get an HD overall — the thesis is a quarter of the overall result.

So, I'm not sure I can call myself Judith Ridge, MA in Children's Literature until after actual graduation, but, gentle reader, I thought you'd like to know.

I'm having pizza to celebrate.

"If you haven't bought a gun or a pickaxe at some point, it isn't a real relationship."

Roxy, "Death Defying", Dead Like Me Season 2

I'm putting together a web page of links to children's and YA authors and I'd like your recommendations. My criteria are:

1. Preferably, but not necessarily, Australian. If not Australian, then well-known and well-read here.

2. With sections pertinent/helpful/of interest to primary and high school-aged students.

3. Ditto, but to classroom teachers.

Thumbnail photos of the author would also be good, although I can probably download them.

Thanks!