Hands on Literacy Conference

The train trip this morning was interesting. Contrary to all evidence gathered here so far, there are people up and moving at 7am. Of course most of the people on the train (predominantly men) were asleep. How they managed to wake up just in time for their stop I don’t know.

Once off the train I headed for the bus stop and was almost immediately waylaid by a woman in baggy Adidas running shorts, a crushed t-shirt and thongs. “Are you going to the Hands on Literacy Conference too?” she asked. Is it tattooed to my forehead? No. I’m white. It was obvious I was there for a reason. We caught a taxi together to the school. It was obvious she’d spent the last 20 years in the US from the way she berated people who got into line ahead of us when we’d been standing there a while. She made no apology for it but I think she toned it down a lot for me because she kept telling me it was really obvious I was Australian. I didn’t get angry or angsty when the taxis didn’t stop immediately, happy just to enjoy the warm morning (sweltering, actually) and watch life go by.

The conference was an eye-opener. It’s organised by a very small group of people in the International Teacher Librarian Association. This was the second ever conference and there were probably 300 participants. Not bad for the second time around for a group of nine people. The focus of the conference was literacy, primarily ways to engage students in literacy, particularly when so many of them have English as a second language. By far the majority of the attendees were from international schools around the world and who teach English to students from varied backgrounds.

Ross Todd was absolutely brilliant, both as a keynote speaker and a seminar presenter. He’s so fired up and animated – so ‘into’ his topic. I wish I could be so enamoured of a field, the fire burns for years like that. His keynote and seminar segued so smoothly I barely noticed the room change. I have lots of Web 2.0 bits and pieces to share with the staff when I get back: ways to change students’ searching from information dumps to critical thinking strategies.

Fiction reading area, Senior Library, Tanglin Trust Schoo, Singapore

The school here is amazing. I haven’t seen much of it as we were inside all day but the fiction section in the senior library where Ross Todd’s seminar was held is amazing. What a great space. It’s also used for classes and committee meetings. The screen retracts.

The second guided inquiry seminar was interesting. It was good to see that the theory could be applied with successful outcomes but I think the presenter could have gone into more depth regarding student reactions and engagement in the project and how teachers found the process. She certainly had the time.

The storytelling workshop was a last minute change for me. I was sure it was just going to be a fun filler as the other seminar I wanted to attend had been cancelled. How wrong could I have been? Roger Jenkins’ story-time might have been aimed at the primary level but I could see so many applications at my school, simply because so many of our students have English as a second (or sixth) language and the stories would be a great way to engage them in a topic from the beginning and teach them some language skills at the same time. He showed us three different story styles and I could see applications in English, SOSE, Science, ESL and Tourism just from them. The possibilities are endless.

I met some lovely women at lunch who invited me to visit their school next week. I’ll email tomorrow to try to set that up. What a buzz.

Tonight is the after-conference dinner. I’m going partly because I met some lovely people today and might meet some more tonight but also because I need practice in social situations. I’m a social misfit so need all the practice I can get.

Singapore

I'm visiting Singapore, ostensibly for a conference, but the conference is one day and I'm staying ten. I started this on Facebook but it was fiddly because I talk too much, so from today I'll post here. My photos will still mostly go on Facebook with a single sentence or two about what I've done.

I decided my blog would be easier for this as I talk a lot. Facebook is more for small news flashes.

Entrance to the National Library Singapore

I spent this morning in the National Library of Singapore. It’s a bright, airy silent place. There were lots of people there, mostly students from the look of them, but not one conversation, no study groups, even in the study room. Everyone sat individually and worked silently.

There’s no photography allowed so I sat and read a book on tea. It described the teas from each major region: India, Ceylon, China and Yassam, and how the growing conditions make the flavours so different. Anyone who knows me would be rolling their eyes about now, knowing I had a brilliant morning and wondering how it could be possible. Mix libraries/books and tea and I’m in heaven.

After the library I went back the Chinatown for a fitting. I took the bus this time and they dropped me at a different place from where I got off the train on Wednesday. I found Food Street. I swear that’s what the sign said. The narrow street was lined both sides with shops selling food. In front of most of the shops were booths selling food. A lot of those were closed. I expect they would open in the late afternoon: that seems to be when most things happen in Singapore. I wasn’t hungry so didn’t stop. Perhaps I’ll go back there for dinner one evening and see if I can match any of the smells to the food. Even though a lot of the places were closed there were still smells wafting around. Most of them I recognised but there was one strongly astringent one that almost bordered on rancid. I’ll try to make sure I never eat what made that smell.

I went back to the overpass where I sat for a time on Wednesday. I swear the same group of men were sitting in the pagoda – the only place guaranteed of shade. There are trees over most of the other tables but shade is patchy and the best ones were occupied. The tables have a game board etched into the centre. At least I think it was a game board. I can imagine those men in the pagoda coming out when the sun loses much of its heat and playing games in the garden. I sat under my umbrella, sweat dripping from my elbow, and drank the last of my water.

I saw Australian mangoes for sale: $5.60 each. I didn’t get one as all the fruit I’ve eaten here so far tastes slightly fermented. I think it would be difficult to prevent that in this heat. Nothing feels cold when I buy it. Food is kept cold: there are often thermometers on the glass to tell you how cold it is inside, but the drinks aren’t. I’ve bought bottled water and canned drinks a couple of times and they don’t develop any condensation and don’t feel cold to the touch. And everything’s small. The cans are 330ml. Lots of places have fridges at the entrance, filled with cans and water but the fridges are only about 60cm wide with half a dozen shelves. Half those shelves are stacked with water, the rest a mix of cans, most of which I don’t recognise. Coke and Pepsi are sold but you have to look for them and then it’s just the small cans and usually only one variety available. I haven’t seen any big Coke or Pepsi fridges like we have at home. I haven’t even seen a full-sized Mars bar. Chocolate is devilishly difficult to find just wandering around. And I’ve looked!

I think I need to go to the business district. There’s a busy-ness here, wherever I’ve been; a quiet desperation to make money, but there’s also a sense of calm. Didn’t I say yesterday that Singapore is a city of contrasts? I wonder what those who already make or have money feel like. I was going to Orchard Road this afternoon as it’s the other place that screams wealth but didn’t make it. I decided I’d drop in at my hotel to freshen up a bit (and pick up some more cash) before going to Orchard Road but I picked the absolute worst time to go back to the hotel for a break.

No sooner had I sat down than there was an announcement that the annual fire drill would be happening. Annual fire drill, and I walked in right then. I rushed around, thinking I’d get out before the alarm sounded but no such luck. I couldn’t even hide in my room and pretend I wasn’t there because I was standing in the lift area with a staff member when the alarm went off and the lifts disabled.

I asked what I should do but none of the three staff members on my floor seemed to know for sure. It seems the fire drill was mainly for staff. I asked if I had to go down the stairs and they all nodded and agreed with me and showed me where to go. I got down to the bottom to be told guests aren’t allowed to use the stairs. It took a while for me to get them to understand I was directed to do so because of the fire drill. I thought it odd that I was the only person in the stairwell the whole eight floors down, except for the ladder blocking access on the seventh floor, and have the distinct impression that guests were exempt from the drill. That seems a little odd. I’d like to think someone would at least check to see if I was out of the building if it came to that.

By the time I got to the lobby I was even more hot and exhausted than I’d been before. I sat there for a while contemplating my dilemma: go back to my room, go out as I was, go to the bar. The bar looked pretty good.

Eventually I decided to go out for dinner. I found a little restaurant around the corner from the hotel and had Black bean beef, Stir-fried vegetables and rice. It was like eating at a different restaurant at home. The food was similar enough that I recognised it instantly but there was a slight difference in flavour. The beef had lots of garlic – sliced not crushed – and big slices of ginger too. There are about five other similar looking restaurants in the same block so I’ll try a few of them.

Tomorrow’s the conference I came here for. I’m having such a good time looking around and doing my own thing I keep having to convince myself I really do need to go to this conference. They’re going to want feedback at the first staff meeting when I get back. It means getting up early. I have to be there between 8.30 and 9.00am. That in itself is odd for Singapore as nothing opens before 11.00am usually. The school I have to go to is on the opposite side of the city. A taxi would be the easiest but probably the most expensive too. I’m thinking of taking the MRT (love Singapore’s train system) to Orchard Road and then a taxi the rest of the way.

My new toy

I admit it. I like new toys to play with. Several weeks ago I bought a crepe make, a pie maker and an omelete make. Aside from the obvious storage issues, they're great to play with.

Canon G12


My newest toy is a new camera. I wanted something that had a lot of similar features to a SLR but without the bulk or the weight. I've ended up with a Canon G12 (pic from this site) and have spent every spare minute today (not many with work in the middle) playing with it to learn what to do.

It's been ages since I've had a camera to use. The last one I used regularly, a lovely compact Nikon I gave David for his birthday one year, I lost. I've been feeling guilty about that ever since.

David got a new camera a little while ago and is very happy with it and, as I'm going to Singapore soon, I thought I needed one. No way am I borrowing his camera again! If I'm going to lose another camera, it'll be my own.

A world of contrasts

A friend of mine is currently touring Ireland and is posting gorgeous photos on her blog. The country-side in the photos is nothing at all like I'm used to seeing here in Australia and I've started making comparisons.

I spent my very early years, and some time during my teenage years, in sheep country out west (way out west: 12 hours' drive west of Brisbane; about 1100km). It's the beginnings of desert out there with a few lonely Marino sheep - until shearing time and they're all rounded up and you realise there're thousands of them. The desert changes just as dramatically too when the floods come. There's no or little rain out there - just drought and then flood from the Channel Country up north. Then the country becomes a carpet of colourful wildflowers, the colours so strong that when the sun rises, your eyes hurt.

I have a photo taken in 1989 of a paddock full of golden daisies. If you're not sure how large a paddock is, just imagine those thousands of sheep and how much space they need in dry country that offers little food or water. There's no such thing as a half-acre plot out there; most stations are thousands of square kilometres. Usually the bright red soil is mostly covered by coarse grey-green grass and pock-marked with scraggly eucalyptus trees, but when there's rain or a flood the flowers come out and suddenly you begin to wonder if you're really as far west as you thought.

The photo is from so long ago partially because I don't go out there any more and partially because the area rarely gets enough water for the flowers to bloom. Those sorts of floods happen once a decade.

What a difference a decade makes

Ten years ago, getting passport photos done meant I walked into the Post Office and asked for them. I stood against the wall, stared at the camera, paid my money, collected the photos and I was done.

I tried that two days ago. The process was the same but the results weren't.

Getting passport photos today means I need to have my eyebrows and eyelashes tinted and wear a foundation to even my skin tone. I even have to brush my hair - something I usually only do at night before bed.

I don't usually pay into the vanity shit for women, but then I've always been a reasonably good looking woman (and it's amazing what a difference smiling makes to your face). Now I'm seeing signs of aging. There's some grey coming in: not enough to colour my hair but enough to notice. My eyebrows were hit first, oddly enough. I also have sagging skin under my eyes that's a different colour to the rest of my face - hence the need for foundation. It's disheartening.

I don't mind getting older. I really like the person I am now and know I wouldn't be that person without all my life experiences. But I don't want to LOOK it.

Father's Day

I always get a Father's Day present. I know it seems strange because I also get a Mother's Day present. Yes, it's double-dipping, but I've done both jobs for so long I think I deserve the recognition for it.

Tomorrow is Father's Day here and Lauren gave me my present tonight.

F111 during afterburn

Tonight was the annual Riverfire celebration. Basically it's an hour of fireworks along the river that bisects the city. Before and after we have an F111 fly over and afterburn. It's a spectacular sight and this year was the last year for the F111s before they're retired from active service. Lauren rang at 5pm to see what my plans for the evening were.

The fireworks.

"Want to come up to Mt Gravatt and watch the fireworks from there?"

"Sure, sounds fun. What time?"

"I'll meet you at the bottom of the mountain at 6."

That's right. The bottom of the mountain. The road was closed off for the night as Mt Gravatt is a popular place to go to view the fireworks over the city. It's far enough away from the city so we can see the whole show without the interference of the bends in the river or the crowds. We can't hear the music either but that's not such a big problem. We get the birds' eye view. But it's nearly 2km from the road closure up to the top, and with the road closed we had to walk.

It took us nearly half an hour to walk up to the top. We were more interested in chatting so we just took our time and enjoyed the evening. The view from the top is spectacular with the city laid out all around us. Spring has just begun so the breeze was cool with a promise of rain later. Cool here in Queensland means that about half the people up there with us needed long sleeved shirts but mostly short sleeves were fine, even at night.

Afterwards we started the walk down again. Someone in the crowd called out 'shortcut' and, like sheep, we all followed a narrow, barely visible path down the mountain in the pitch black. The path was so steep it was like walking down a very steep flight of steps, only there weren't any steps, just slippery grass and gravel. And did I mention it was night time and dark?

Of course I can't ever suffer in silence.

Me: "We'll never find our way out. We'll still be wandering around the bush in three days."

Lauren: "You didn't bring any water with you, did you?"

Me: "No, but I know how to gather the dew from leaves in the morning."

Lauren: "Oh good. We'll be fine then."

Me: "They'll probably find our bodies next week."

Lauren: "No. With so many of us going missing at the same time, they'll find us before then."

You can't argue with that logic. It took less than 15 minutes to reach the road again.

Just to put it in perspective Mt Gravatt is a popular destination for walkers, runners and cyclists, and it's surrounded by suburbia. I've walked up there fairly often myself and have used the shortcut - in the daylight. It feels different at night because there's no perspective on distance or direction. And there were kids in the group I could scare. Couldn't miss that opportunity!

To dragon or not

I have a pet dragon. Not a tangible one, one in my book. She's based on a little pewter dragon a friend gave me years ago. She's portly and naive and unaware of her own strength, but totally aware of her appeal. She eats amber and grows exponentially. Her interactions with my characters provide humour in dire situations. I want to keep her.

The problem is she doesn't seem to have a role to play. In my head she's important and the four main characters can't achieve their goal without her but it's not coming through one way or the other. At the moment she's a little light relief, popping up at unusual moments and then disappearing just as suddenly, only to come back again when all the people seem to be doing is travelling on a long journey. She nearly drowns a couple of them - by accident, of course - and deafens and kills a whole heap of bad guys but mostly she's used to get my characters out of situations they can't get out of themselves and, therefore, probably weakening them. At the end of the book she has a major role to play but none of that is clear until right at the end (which I haven't written yet because I haven't worked it out).

Judging on the feedback, she's not working the way I wanted her to at all. All the critiques so far have said 'get rid of her' and 'she's detracting from the story', 'has no purpose'. So now I have a dilemma. Do I go back and write her out of the story completely so my characters can find their own way forward and save themselves, or do I go back and change her character so she ups the ante, so she makes life just that bit more difficult for everyone and no one knows if she's a good guy or a bad guy until right at the end?

I'll have to spend some time on the weekend plotting out both scenarios to see which one will travel the best.