It's been frantic at school this week: the annual Book Fair in our school library and today is the culmination, Grandparents' Day! (I'm the teacher-librarian, up to my neck in Book Fair books and overly-decorated stationery.)
I just had to share a wonderful moment from yesterday afternoon. One of the Year 1 students came racing into the library, wild-eyed - just as I was trying to slip away from the Book Fair for a quick lunchtime coffee.
"Mr McLean! Mr McLean!" he exclaimed, "There are some Bad Words out here, under the stairs."
I'd noticed some chalked arrows on the steps earlier in the day, but I hadn't thought to investigate further. Crouching down, I could see some choice four-letter words on a support beam of the stairs attached to our portable building.
"Well," I reflected. "You'll just have to make sure that you don't read them until I can get them removed."
"It's okay, Mr McLean," he said, beaming at me. "I can't read!"
(The funny thing is, he's quite a talented little reader.) It was just the release I needed towards the end of a tense day, topped off only by numerous parent visitors, getting a sneak preview of the Book Fair stock.
"My kid talks about the library all the time," several of them said. "He/she just loves coming to this library!"
Yes, enough ego-boo to get me through Grandparents' Day, I reckon.
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Happy St Patrick's Day
To be sure, to be sure.
Even though she wasn't of Irish descent, my grandmother Jessie made a point of wearing green - and carrying her leprechaun charm - on St Patrick's Day, which was also her birthday.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
The ring and the Circle
Something happened this weekend that sent me reeling back in time - in a scene reminiscent, if you've ever seen the movie "Somewhere in Time", of when Christopher Reeve finds a modern-day coin in the pocket of his hired period costume he'd used to astral project himself into a bygone era, and is sent hurtling back from whence he'd come.
I was removing my signet ring to place it on the nightstand and, in the dark, I heard a SNAP!. The band on the ring had severed, and I guess I'm up for a hefty amount to get the ring re-soldered, although maybe they can also re-seat and re-polish the bloodstone that is set into it at the same time?
The ring carries lots of sentimental value, and quite a bit of quirky McLean history to it. The ring used to belong to my paternal grandmother, Jessie and she bequeathed me the ring because as a kid I'd always impressed upon her that it was my favourite. We used to love looking at the dark green stone in strong sunlight together, as then you could discern the bloodspots within it. And yet, in normal light, or at first glance, the stone appeared to be a black onyx. Many years before even making a Will, my grandmother presented the ring to me one Christmas when I was in my late teens or early 20s, as she wanted to see me enjoying it. The ring has survived my skinny early 20s (with a size-reduction band clipped inside it) and my fattest periods when I feared it would become stuck fast, which is the main reason I made a point of removing it every night.
This ring is actually not the original. Nanny's first bloodstone ring was too big for her finger, especially on cold days, and one fateful town visit she hung it on a hook in the restrooms of David Jones in the city, lest it tumble into the toilet bowl. Of course, she then went home, taking her coat but leaving the ring still on the hook. Phoning the store's "Lost and Found" department that afternoon did no good; she'd have to travel back into the CBD, in person, to make an identification. When she told the staff she was seeking the return of her bloodstone ring, they said, "We're sorry, we have no red-stoned rings at all."
"No," said Nan. "It's a green stone with red bloodspots."
"We're sorry, we don't have any green-stoned rings either."
Of course, if it was in the tray in the back room, they probably thought it was a black onyx.
When my grandmother went to Proud's to order herself an identical replacement, they had to remodel a man's signet ring to achieve the appearance of the original. Ironic that the thinness of the remodeled ring is probably what caused it to snap on me this weekend. (I've been much tubbier, so I'm not blaming the thickness of my fingers this week.)
So I guess I'll soon be off to Prouds in the CBD to get a quote on a repair job.
But, as I said, the ring snapping sent me deep into the nostalgic recesses of my TV trivia-filled mind. Visions of my grandmother, sitting in her chair knitting or crocheting - usually for "her ladies" at the Coles store in Rockdale (another complicated story) - while my two brothers and I presented our absolute best behaviour to be allowed to watch our favourite television shows in glorious black and white: "The Magic Circle Club", as mentioned here a few days ago, "The Flying Nun", "The Dick Van Dyke Show", "Please Don't Eat the Daisies", "Batman", "Disneyland", "Captain Nice" and "Mr Terrific". Ah, the 60s!
Max and Nancy with the "Magic Circle Club" cast; and a three-shot of Mother Hubbard, Fee Fee and Fredd Bear
In my case, today I resolved to search out an Internet contact for Max Bartlett, my idol and role model from the early 60s (before he was inevitably replaced by "Batman and Robin" - I mean, they had gum cards to collect!) And so I sent Mr Bartlett the fan letter I should have sent him in 1965. I'd never sent in any MCC fan mail for Nancy Cato or Liz Harris to read to Fredd Bear on the toadstool, so I thought I'd make up for it today and say, "Thanks for the memories".
Undoubtedly, Max was my favourite MCC character, and I recall the day I told my parents that "Max" was my middle name, since they hadn't given me one. As a teacher and teacher-librarian in 2007, I know only too well how influential television is on young lives. Luckily for me, I had "Magic Circle Club" to watch, but it's hard to convey to today's kids that there was ever anything better on TV of similar importance to "The Simpsons". I think of "The Magic Circle Club" often as I break up kids choking each other, Bart & Homer-style, in the playground.
As I write this, I have a sudden recollection of the episode where Max got tied up to one of the big papier-mache trees and had to be rescued. We all played MCC in the playground at school. Again, until "Batman" took precedence. You know, at Christmas, my grandmother used to take my brothers and I to visit Santa each year, in a magical grotto of papier-mache trees at Grace Bros' old Broadway store in Sydney - and we were convinced that we'd somehow found our way into the Enchanted Forest of "The Magic Circle Club" because of all those giant papier-mache trees. I could almost hear Fee Fee Bear (John-Michael Howson), and "her" high-pitched voice, screeching from within.
As a young adult, at teachers' college, I ended up spending three years (1977-79) in a building right behind the Grace Bros buildings - and was often there in GBs for lunch. One day, I actually ended up taking a wrong stairwell... and seeing a vast storage room, still filled with those papier mache trees from the early 60s!
Magic Circle Club - in colour, as we never saw it on our b/w television monitors!
Bring on the papier-mache trees! And to Max, Nancy, John-Michael - and Jessie: "Thanks for the memories".
I was removing my signet ring to place it on the nightstand and, in the dark, I heard a SNAP!. The band on the ring had severed, and I guess I'm up for a hefty amount to get the ring re-soldered, although maybe they can also re-seat and re-polish the bloodstone that is set into it at the same time?
The ring carries lots of sentimental value, and quite a bit of quirky McLean history to it. The ring used to belong to my paternal grandmother, Jessie and she bequeathed me the ring because as a kid I'd always impressed upon her that it was my favourite. We used to love looking at the dark green stone in strong sunlight together, as then you could discern the bloodspots within it. And yet, in normal light, or at first glance, the stone appeared to be a black onyx. Many years before even making a Will, my grandmother presented the ring to me one Christmas when I was in my late teens or early 20s, as she wanted to see me enjoying it. The ring has survived my skinny early 20s (with a size-reduction band clipped inside it) and my fattest periods when I feared it would become stuck fast, which is the main reason I made a point of removing it every night.
This ring is actually not the original. Nanny's first bloodstone ring was too big for her finger, especially on cold days, and one fateful town visit she hung it on a hook in the restrooms of David Jones in the city, lest it tumble into the toilet bowl. Of course, she then went home, taking her coat but leaving the ring still on the hook. Phoning the store's "Lost and Found" department that afternoon did no good; she'd have to travel back into the CBD, in person, to make an identification. When she told the staff she was seeking the return of her bloodstone ring, they said, "We're sorry, we have no red-stoned rings at all."
"No," said Nan. "It's a green stone with red bloodspots."
"We're sorry, we don't have any green-stoned rings either."
Of course, if it was in the tray in the back room, they probably thought it was a black onyx.
When my grandmother went to Proud's to order herself an identical replacement, they had to remodel a man's signet ring to achieve the appearance of the original. Ironic that the thinness of the remodeled ring is probably what caused it to snap on me this weekend. (I've been much tubbier, so I'm not blaming the thickness of my fingers this week.)
So I guess I'll soon be off to Prouds in the CBD to get a quote on a repair job.
But, as I said, the ring snapping sent me deep into the nostalgic recesses of my TV trivia-filled mind. Visions of my grandmother, sitting in her chair knitting or crocheting - usually for "her ladies" at the Coles store in Rockdale (another complicated story) - while my two brothers and I presented our absolute best behaviour to be allowed to watch our favourite television shows in glorious black and white: "The Magic Circle Club", as mentioned here a few days ago, "The Flying Nun", "The Dick Van Dyke Show", "Please Don't Eat the Daisies", "Batman", "Disneyland", "Captain Nice" and "Mr Terrific". Ah, the 60s!
Max and Nancy with the "Magic Circle Club" cast; and a three-shot of Mother Hubbard, Fee Fee and Fredd Bear
In my case, today I resolved to search out an Internet contact for Max Bartlett, my idol and role model from the early 60s (before he was inevitably replaced by "Batman and Robin" - I mean, they had gum cards to collect!) And so I sent Mr Bartlett the fan letter I should have sent him in 1965. I'd never sent in any MCC fan mail for Nancy Cato or Liz Harris to read to Fredd Bear on the toadstool, so I thought I'd make up for it today and say, "Thanks for the memories".
Undoubtedly, Max was my favourite MCC character, and I recall the day I told my parents that "Max" was my middle name, since they hadn't given me one. As a teacher and teacher-librarian in 2007, I know only too well how influential television is on young lives. Luckily for me, I had "Magic Circle Club" to watch, but it's hard to convey to today's kids that there was ever anything better on TV of similar importance to "The Simpsons". I think of "The Magic Circle Club" often as I break up kids choking each other, Bart & Homer-style, in the playground.
As I write this, I have a sudden recollection of the episode where Max got tied up to one of the big papier-mache trees and had to be rescued. We all played MCC in the playground at school. Again, until "Batman" took precedence. You know, at Christmas, my grandmother used to take my brothers and I to visit Santa each year, in a magical grotto of papier-mache trees at Grace Bros' old Broadway store in Sydney - and we were convinced that we'd somehow found our way into the Enchanted Forest of "The Magic Circle Club" because of all those giant papier-mache trees. I could almost hear Fee Fee Bear (John-Michael Howson), and "her" high-pitched voice, screeching from within.
As a young adult, at teachers' college, I ended up spending three years (1977-79) in a building right behind the Grace Bros buildings - and was often there in GBs for lunch. One day, I actually ended up taking a wrong stairwell... and seeing a vast storage room, still filled with those papier mache trees from the early 60s!
Magic Circle Club - in colour, as we never saw it on our b/w television monitors!
Bring on the papier-mache trees! And to Max, Nancy, John-Michael - and Jessie: "Thanks for the memories".
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Murphy's Laws of school book fairs
1. First sale of the day - an 80 cent pencil - will inevitably be countered by a crisp $50 note.
2. If you put a signature on the item's price sticker at a school book fair, in an attempt to prevent shoplifting, the child will inevitably have a single ten cent coin to pay for a $10 item. Or even a $25 item. (These kids have expensive tastes. And a totally unrealistic idea of the value of money. They also believe that if you keep buying items that give you change, you'll never run out of money.)
3. If a student hands you a bunch of 16 shiny $1 coins, and it looks like he raided Mum's money box, he probably did. (And why was he so desperate to purchase a personal burglar alarm, anyway?)
4. If someone sees you sneaking a look at the EFTPOS machine manual, they'll suddenly demand you test it out on their card. Dammit. ("Go use the Ready Teller across the road please, these instructions are too obscure, okay?")
5. Of course, you're supposed to charge up the EFTPOS machine the night before. (Thanks for not telling me, Book Fair company.)
6. Stationery is still way more exciting than books, even on Day 3 of a Book Fair.
7. Tired teachers only make addition errors in front of the parents, not little students, who wouldn't notice anyway.
8. Today's grandparents are younger than most of the teachers. (Welcome to the middle ages.) But they are quite generous (Ka-ching! Ka-ching! - sound of cash register).
9. A major computer system changeover shall occur on the same day as the takings of the annual Book Fair must be finalised. It will also be the last day of term, and only one day before a public holiday.
10. The final tearful request for a $1 scented eraser will be announced precisely ten minutes after the van, full of all the cabinets of product, leaves the school grounds. (A prediction: just you see if I'm right.)
2. If you put a signature on the item's price sticker at a school book fair, in an attempt to prevent shoplifting, the child will inevitably have a single ten cent coin to pay for a $10 item. Or even a $25 item. (These kids have expensive tastes. And a totally unrealistic idea of the value of money. They also believe that if you keep buying items that give you change, you'll never run out of money.)
3. If a student hands you a bunch of 16 shiny $1 coins, and it looks like he raided Mum's money box, he probably did. (And why was he so desperate to purchase a personal burglar alarm, anyway?)
4. If someone sees you sneaking a look at the EFTPOS machine manual, they'll suddenly demand you test it out on their card. Dammit. ("Go use the Ready Teller across the road please, these instructions are too obscure, okay?")
5. Of course, you're supposed to charge up the EFTPOS machine the night before. (Thanks for not telling me, Book Fair company.)
6. Stationery is still way more exciting than books, even on Day 3 of a Book Fair.
7. Tired teachers only make addition errors in front of the parents, not little students, who wouldn't notice anyway.
8. Today's grandparents are younger than most of the teachers. (Welcome to the middle ages.) But they are quite generous (Ka-ching! Ka-ching! - sound of cash register).
9. A major computer system changeover shall occur on the same day as the takings of the annual Book Fair must be finalised. It will also be the last day of term, and only one day before a public holiday.
10. The final tearful request for a $1 scented eraser will be announced precisely ten minutes after the van, full of all the cabinets of product, leaves the school grounds. (A prediction: just you see if I'm right.)
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Advance stationery fair?
We are having a book fair at my school this week, so every spare hour of each day sees me patrolling the school library with a three-litre ice cream container in the crook of my arm, selling stationery to students who wander into the library and attempt to "buy" a book for under $1.
It's great that Scholastic have seen to it that there is an amazing range of novelty pencils, pens, erasers, highlighters, bookmarks and sharpeners to satisfy those holes burning in some kids' pockets, but I eagerly await Grandparents' Day (tomorrow) and the hope that (a) today's grandpas and grandmas are ovely-generous when spoiling their grandchildren, and (b) that no child uses all of their grandparents' money to buy even more novelty pencils, pens, erasers, highlighters, bookmarks and sharpeners.
Someone, please buy a book!
It's great that Scholastic have seen to it that there is an amazing range of novelty pencils, pens, erasers, highlighters, bookmarks and sharpeners to satisfy those holes burning in some kids' pockets, but I eagerly await Grandparents' Day (tomorrow) and the hope that (a) today's grandpas and grandmas are ovely-generous when spoiling their grandchildren, and (b) that no child uses all of their grandparents' money to buy even more novelty pencils, pens, erasers, highlighters, bookmarks and sharpeners.
Someone, please buy a book!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Sunday on Saturday
Today, after voting (Labor was returned to power, by the way), I went to see the local production of the musical, "Sunday in the Park with George" at the Joan Sutherland Performing Arts Centre (scene of my recent stage escapade), and I found "Sunday..." to be very moving. Sometimes, a musical comes along at just the right moment in one's life and, only this morning, I'd been contemplating some themes that were brought into perspective by the messages in today's performance.
A few weeks ago, one of my new Star Trek friends (discovered via the online Meetup group) happened to ask if his father was welcome to attend the next meeting. Well, of course he could. But the topic was mulled over in my head, until... I emailed him back today, saying, "I just realised, of course, that your Dad is probably about my age. I feel so old! ;-)
Ben wrote back, "He's just turned 40. Does this make you feel any better/worse?"
I'm 48. Gosh, I dunno how I feel? It's really weird. I relate to Ben - and AdamJ, for that matter - as equals, because we are all science fiction media fans. However, Ben's Dad is not only younger than me, he's also younger that both of my younger brothers.
Actually, I'm looking forward to meeting Ben's Dad; every now and then (but not often) I regret not ever having kids. To think, by now, in some alternate universe, I have a whole household of some really cool 20-Something kids who like SF. So bizarre. And very, very kewl (to coin a phrase). Actually, AdamJ, who's already taken to calling me "Dad", tells me that his parents are visiting Australia this year, from the UK. (Cheeky young whippersnappers!)
Anyway, all this "woe is my future" stuff was reflected, quite unexpectedly, by the plot of the second half of "Sunday in the Park with George". The action jumps from the 1880s to the modern day. One of the characters, a wheelchair-bound character in her 90s, had been a tiny babe-in-arms in the famous painting being celebrated ("A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte" by Georges Seurat). The important thing, she explains to an art gallery first-night audience, is to leave a legacy after one has died: and that can be children and/or art.
I guess, since I'm not producing any children of my own (not counting, I guess, the 380 young students I teach every week), I'm really going to have to get my act together, and finish preparing something from the arts to be my legacy!
The other scary thing is: we have Grandparents' Day coming up again at school, just before Easter. We teachers realised a few years ago that most of the grandparents who attend are actually younger than most of us. Sigh.
A few weeks ago, one of my new Star Trek friends (discovered via the online Meetup group) happened to ask if his father was welcome to attend the next meeting. Well, of course he could. But the topic was mulled over in my head, until... I emailed him back today, saying, "I just realised, of course, that your Dad is probably about my age. I feel so old! ;-)
Ben wrote back, "He's just turned 40. Does this make you feel any better/worse?"
I'm 48. Gosh, I dunno how I feel? It's really weird. I relate to Ben - and AdamJ, for that matter - as equals, because we are all science fiction media fans. However, Ben's Dad is not only younger than me, he's also younger that both of my younger brothers.
Actually, I'm looking forward to meeting Ben's Dad; every now and then (but not often) I regret not ever having kids. To think, by now, in some alternate universe, I have a whole household of some really cool 20-Something kids who like SF. So bizarre. And very, very kewl (to coin a phrase). Actually, AdamJ, who's already taken to calling me "Dad", tells me that his parents are visiting Australia this year, from the UK. (Cheeky young whippersnappers!)
Anyway, all this "woe is my future" stuff was reflected, quite unexpectedly, by the plot of the second half of "Sunday in the Park with George". The action jumps from the 1880s to the modern day. One of the characters, a wheelchair-bound character in her 90s, had been a tiny babe-in-arms in the famous painting being celebrated ("A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte" by Georges Seurat). The important thing, she explains to an art gallery first-night audience, is to leave a legacy after one has died: and that can be children and/or art.
I guess, since I'm not producing any children of my own (not counting, I guess, the 380 young students I teach every week), I'm really going to have to get my act together, and finish preparing something from the arts to be my legacy!
The other scary thing is: we have Grandparents' Day coming up again at school, just before Easter. We teachers realised a few years ago that most of the grandparents who attend are actually younger than most of us. Sigh.
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