I just wanted to scare them off, but I accidentally hit one. Its beak got caught in the strings and I crashed again.
The magpie flapped about, trying to get free, but it was stuck in my tennis racquet. I knew there were some types of lizards who, when they’re grabbed from behind, could drop their whole tail off and run away. Could magpies do that with their beaks?
The magpie stared at me and attempted to squawk, as if it were trying to tell me something.
THINGS THE MAGPIE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL ME
‘Oww! My beak!’
‘I give up. I’m sorry. Let me go and we’ll never swoop you again. I’ll tell the others.’
‘Oh, no. This is the end. I’ll never get to vomit up those worms I swallowed for the kids.’
I grabbed the magpie, pulled it out of the racquet, and let it go. It squawked and then flew into the sky, and I waved it goodbye. Maybe now that I’d freed it, it would understand that I meant no harm and we could live in harmony. Then it turned around and swooped me again.
Next morning I got up early to try and get past the park before the magpies woke up, but birds get up early too – who knew? – and I still got swooped.
I got to school before anyone else and went to my classroom to dump my bag. By coincidence, it was the day after our old teacher, Mr Boreman, had left. He’d told us he was going to Africa to save endangered animals. Looking back, the giraffe tattoo he’d got on his arm a few weeks earlier might have been a clue.
Inside my classroom was a tall woman with big, round glasses and dark hair. She smiled at me.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Miss Lee, your new teacher. And you are . . .?’
‘Umm . . . a boy?’
She smiled. ‘I meant, what’s your name?’
‘Oh. Sam.’
‘Could you show me where the spare paper is, Sam?’
‘Sure,’ I said. I ended up showing her where we kept everything around the classroom and answering lots of her questions about where we were up to with maths and other stuff. Nice, right? But also, I was soon to realise, very dumb.
That’s why I figured that everything that happened after that was the magpies’ fault. If I hadn’t got to school early that morning, everything would have been fine.
The first thing Miss Lee did with our class was an incursion, which is what they call an excursion where you don’t go anywhere except the school hall. When we got there, she told us this incursion was about learning to cooperate and be creative.
MISS LEE: And in this exercise don’t think of me as a teacher. Think of me as a collaborator.
WILL: What’s a collabora-gator?
MISS LEE: Well, today my role isn’t to be in charge or to tell you what to do . . .
JOHNNY WILSON: Great. Can we go outside and play handball?
(EVERYONE LAUGHS)
MISS LEE: (LAUGHS) That’s funny. See, I want to work with you to help you find your own ideas and solutions. I’m not in charge. We’re all in charge.
JOHNNY WILSON: So why can’t we all decide to go outside and play handball?
MISS LEE: (UNEASY SMILE) Yes, very humorous. You’re a card, you are. Okay, I’ll start by expla—
JOHNNY WILSON: But you said that we’re all in charge. So why can’t we go outside and play ha—
MISS LEE: Be quiet! Now! (TAKES A FEW DEEP BREATHS) Sam, can you help me hand out the worksheets?
This is what the worksheet said, and what I think it actually meant.
WHAT IT SAID:
In an innovative and collaborative breakout area and work space . . .
WHAT IT MEANT:
In the school hall . . .
WHAT IT SAID:
. . . get into small focus idea teams.
WHAT IT MEANT:
. . . get into groups of four.
WHAT IT SAID:
Brainstorm innovative solutions for providing a sustainable water source to an isolated community.
WHAT IT MEANT:
Work out how to get water to a village.
WHAT IT SAID:
Prioritise the best ideas.
WHAT IT MEANT:
Shout at each other until Johnny Wilson threatens to punch anyone who doesn’t vote for his idea.
WHAT IT SAID:
Design a real-world, scale model.
WHAT IT MEANT:
Play with playdough.
WHAT IT SAID:
Reconvene into the larger class group, report and share ideas, and agree on the best idea or ideas.
WHAT IT MEANT:
Get back into one big group and shout at each other until Johnny Wilson threatens to punch anyone who doesn’t vote for his idea.
WHAT IT SAID:
Discuss what you have learnt about teamwork with a partner.
WHAT IT MEANT:
Talk to Gary about what we’re going to do on the weekend.
When the bell rang, Miss Lee asked me to stay and help her clean up.
‘Why does she always ask you to help her?’ asked Johnny Wilson on his way out.
I shrugged. ‘She probably doesn’t know anyone else’s name yet.’
I didn’t mind helping and besides, doing important, highly skilled tasks for Miss Lee (picking up worksheets and emptying the bins) made me feel special. Maybe, I thought, I could be popular with both teachers and kids?
6
ONLY-CHILD CRICKET
Meanwhile at home, the bigger Mum’s pregnant tummy got, the weirder she acted.
(NEXT MORNING, SATURDAY 9.15 AM. SAM ENTERS KITCHEN.)
MUM: Well, you had a good sleep.
SAM: Mmmm.
MUM: I’ve been up since six. As usual. Except on Wednesdays when I get up at five-thirty so I can get to my jazz ballet class.
SAM: Mmmm.
(SAM SITS AND POURS CEREAL INTO HIS BOWL)
MUM: And I’ve already been for a walk and done the washing and made your father’s breakfast and stewed some pears. And I’m pregnant. Would you like some dried apricots with your cereal?
SAM: No, thanks.
MUM: But you like dried apricots! And they’re good for you.
SAM: I just don’t feel like them.
MUM: But I got the jar out of the cupboard and everything. (PAUSE) I even unscrewed the lid.
That was normal weird for Mum. But then she went extra weird.
MUM: Anyway, I got you a present.
SAM: Thanks, Mum!
(MUM HANDS SAM A PACKAGE)
SAM: Yay! (SAM TEARS PAPER OFF) . . . A doll?
MUM: Do you like it?
SAM: If I was four the answer would be ‘yes’, but, Mum, I’m twelve.
MUM: I know, but you’re about to have a baby.
SAM: No, that’s you.
MUM: Oh, you’re so funny with your funny jokes. It’s going to be our baby, so you need to get used to looking after one.
SAM: You want me to get ready for the baby by playing with dolls?
MUM: Just carry it around and practise not dropping it. Sometimes you can be a bit clumsy. Remember when you dropped that meat pie and it went all over your nice new corduroy trousers? We don’t want you doing that with the baby.
SAM: (SARCASTICALLY) Maybe I can carry the doll around at school.
MUM: What a good idea!
(DAD ENTERS)
MUM: You can play with the doll too, Henry.
DAD: (EYES NARROW INTO HIS ‘IS-THIS-WORTH-HAVING-AN-ARGUMENT-ABOUT-OR-SHALL-I-JUST-SAY-“YES-DEAR”?’ EXPRESSION) Yes, dear.
I still wasn’t sure about the whole new sister business. For most of my life I’d wished I’d had brothers and sisters to play with, but now that I had friends, I was fine with being an only child.
When we first moved to Canberra I used to lie around all mopey and bored after school and on weekends, but now I’d worked out some good ways to amuse myself.
ONLY-CHILD TENNIS
In the backyard I’d hit the ball against the wall of our house as many times in a row as I could. I even played ima
ginary points against the wall, but I always lost. The wall never missed! I reckon it could have gone on the professional tennis circuit.
ONLY-CHILD CRICKET
The wall couldn’t bat or bowl, so I had to hold the bat in one hand and bowl at it with the other. As soon as I let the ball go, I’d grab the bat in both hands to hit the rebound, but usually by then, the ball had already gone past me. Once again, the wall was too good for me.
ONLY-CHILD TIP
When I got sick of losing to the wall at tennis and cricket, we’d play tip.
SAM: (TO THE WALL) I’ll be in. You’ve got ten seconds to get away.
THE WALL: (SILENCE)
SAM: One, two, three, four, five . . . you better move or I’m gunna get ya! . . . six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Here I come.
(SAM RUNS TO THE WALL AND TIPS IT)
SAM: Got ya! You’re in.
THE WALL: (SILENCE)
SAM: (MOVES A FEW STEPS AWAY) Come and get me. Come on, slow coach. What’s the matter, your legs stuck in the mud? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have any legs. Boom!
THE WALL: (THINKS) When’s this kid gunna move out?
7
THE STRONG SILENT TYPE
On the marble field, everyone still wanted to play me for Swirly. I played for her a couple of times and won, luckily, but then I got scared. What if I lost? Then I wouldn’t be special anymore, and someone else would get all the popularity points that came with having the school’s most wanted marble.
I started refusing to play for Swirly, but that just made everyone keener. Every time I went to the marble field, kids ran up to me shouting out their offers. Noah said that if I beat him, he’d give me his six best marbles. Will said that if I played him for Swirly and I won, he’d give me his whole marble collection, and Eva said that if I beat her she’d give me $10 and do my maths homework for a month (which wasn’t as good as it sounds because she was terrible at maths).
I refused them all. The more they offered, the more desperate I was to hang on to Swirly. At school I kept her in my pocket all day, and kept checking to make sure she was there. At home, I spent hours staring at her, turning her over and over in my hand and getting lost in those magical orange swirls.
Swirly was sooo beautiful. And she was mine. All mine! I didn’t realise it at the time, but I’d become just like King Midas, who was obsessed with his gold and spent his days counting it, except that when I counted my marble I only got up to one.
SAM: (STARING AT SWIRLY) ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . . ONE . . .
I started to worry that someone might try to steal Swirly from me.
(IN THE PLAYGROUND. SAM is STARING AT SWIRLY. GARY APPROACHES.)
GARY: Hey.
SAM: (CLUTCHES SWIRLY TO HIS CHEST) Get away! She’s mine. You can’t have her.
GARY: Oh . . . kay. I was just going to offer you some of my muffin.
SAM: (LOOKS AT GARY SUSPICIOUSLY, THEN RELAXES) Sorry.
(GARY BREAKS SOME MUFFIN OFF AND GIVES IT TO SAM)
SAM: Thanks. I think this marble might be making me a bit paranoid. (STARES AT MUFFIN) Wait! (POINTS) What’s that?
GARY: A chocolate chip.
SAM: Is it? Is it, ‘Gary’? If that’s even your real name. Or is it a pellet of poison?! You’re trying to poison me to get Swirly! (SAM THROWS MUFFIN TO THE GROUND AND STAMPS ON IT) Hah! You won’t get her that way. You’ll NEVER get her!
GARY: Oh, boy.
There was only one thing that could snap me out of my marble obsession. My new girlfriend. At lunch, I was sitting and staring at Swirly when Amy came up.
AMY: Hi, Sam. Let’s walk around together.
SAM: Sh . . . Sh . . . Sure.
(SAM STANDS UP, KNOCKS HIS LUNCH BOX ONTO THE GROUND AND THEN STEPS ON IT. SOUND OF PLASTIC CRACKING. SAM IGNORES IT. AMY GRABS SAM’S HAND.)
SAM: YIKES!
AMY: What? You’re my boyfriend.
(AMY DRAGS SAM ACROSS THE PLAYGROUND TOWARDS JULIA DICARLO’S GROUP)
SAM: (STAMMERING NERVOUSLY) So . . . Um . . . it’s a nice day. Warm . . . ing.
AMY: Try and look cool.
SAM: Cool . . . that’s . . . cool.
(THEY APPROACH THE GROUP OF GIRLS)
AMY: (WHISPERS QUICKLY TO SAM) Don’t speak too much. In fact, don’t speak at all. Let’s just go for the strong, silent type. (AMY LOOKS SAM UP AND DOWN) Actually, maybe just the silent type. (TO GIRLS) Hi. Just passing by with Sam, my boyfriend. Sorry, can’t sit with you right now. We need some time for us. Bye.
(SAM AND AMY WALK AWAY)
AMY: (WHISPERS) Stop crushing my hand!
SAM: (RELAXES GRIP) Sorry.
AMY: And it’s sweaty. Can you do something about that? Okay, same time tomorrow. See ya.
SAM: Wait. I don’t understand. Have you always liked me?
AMY: Liked you?
SAM: Isn’t that why you asked me to be your boyfriend?
AMY: (SIGHS AND ROLLS HER EYES) Sooo needy. Okay. Julia DiCarlo got a boyfriend, which means that having a boyfriend is cool, which means I need one. And everyone thinks you’re cool at the moment because of your marble, so . . . (SHRUGS)
SAM: (PROUDLY) It’s a pretty awesome marble. Wanna see it?
AMY: Wow! Can I?
SAM: Sure.
(SAM REACHES INTO HIS POCKET)
AMY: (ROLLS HER EYES) Please! I wasn’t serious. Like I care about a marble.
SAM: (DISAPPOINTED) Oh.
AMY: Anyway, this is going to be good for both of us. Everyone will think we’re cool.
SAM: Okay, but how does it work? What do I do?
AMY: Just . . . I dunno . . . act like a boyfriend. See ya.
(AMY WALKS OFF)
SAM: But . . .? How . . .? What . . .?
8
TRAIN BRAIN
After the incursion, Miss Lee started teaching us normally. She was quite nice, but for homework she made us do a project about trains. What could be more boring than that?
PROJECT TOPICS MORE BORING THAN ‘TRAINS’
Train wheels.
Train engines.
Train seats.
The history of the word ‘train’.
The history of toothbrushes.
The history of people researching the history of toothbrushes.
The history of school assemblies.
This was my first attempt at the project.
TRAINS PROJECT
Trains take you places. You get on them, then they move, then they stop, then you get off. I never catch trains. Canberra doesn’t even have them, except if you want to go to Sydney, but it’s quicker to drive. Trains probably have an engine or something to make them go, and a steering wheel, and I guess seats to sit on, but I wouldn’t know because, like I said before, I never catch trains.
I knew it was pretty bad, but the subject was too boring to spend any more of my valuable time on. I wanted to go outside and try to beat the wall in tennis. On the other hand, I didn’t want the first project I did for my new teacher to be hopeless.
Then I had a brainwave. I’d get Dad to do my project for me.
Parents usually only agree to help you when you can’t do something for yourself. When you’re born, your parents do everything for you – feed you, dress you, download games for you, even wipe your bottom (YUCK!). But as you get older, they think you should do more for yourself. As soon as they see you walk, they won’t carry you anymore. As soon as they see you cut up your food, they won’t do that anymore, and as soon as they see you wipe your bottom, they’re out of there (fair enough).
Unfortunately, I worked all this out too late. If I’d known how it worked from the start, I wouldn’t have let Mum and Dad see me walk until I was eight.
Dad knew I was capable of doing a project on trains by myself, but I had a few ways of getting him to do things for me.
HOW TO GET PARENTS TO DO STUFF FOR YOU
METHOD 1: IT’S SOMETHING THEY WANT YOU TO DO
SAM: Dad,
can you get my book from my room?
DAD: Why don’t you get it?
SAM: I’m so tired after school. I can’t move. Maybe I should play on the iPad instead. It’s right here.
DAD: (JUMPS UP) I’ll get the book.
METHOD 2: THERE’S SOMETHING IN IT FOR THEM
SAM: Dad, can you get my book from my room?
DAD: Why don’t you get it?
SAM: I could, but I just had this brilliant idea for Father’s Day and I’m planning it out.
DAD: (JUMPS TO HIS FEET) Don’t move.
Then there was Method 3, the one I was going to use to get Dad to do my trains project. See, Dad loved trains.
METHOD 3: ENGAGE PARENT’S ENTHUSIASM
SAM: Hey, Dad, can you help me with my homework?
DAD: Have you done as much as you can yourself?
SAM: Definitely.
DAD: What is it?
SAM: A project on trains.
DAD: (RUSHES OVER) Wow! How exciting!
SAM: I’m a bit stuck.
DAD: I’m not surprised. There are so many areas. The history of trains, how they work, the creation of the first steam-powered locomotive, the future of trains, how the electric train works, improvements in passenger comfort, the list goes on and on. How long does your project have to be?
SAM: Three pages.
DAD: Whoa!
SAM: I know.
DAD: How will you fit everything in? Can we do eight?
SAM: No!
DAD: Hmm. This is going to be a challenge. I’ll get all my train books and magazines. Let’s start with the first steam engine. Everyone knows it ran in 1804, of course, but how many people know what colour the seats were?
So, for the next half hour, Dad did my project. He chose the subjects, did the research, worked out what to write and printed out the pictures while I ate chocolate biscuits.
Very Popular Me Page 2