Letter to Students 29 September 2009

Dear Reader

Letter 1.

It is a wet, grey day, and yet the birds are singing, unaffected by the dullness which pervades.  We should emulate the birds, and sing at the beginning of each morning, discarding our problems, and enjoying the new day which breaks.  The positive energy which exudes from the book, the Secret, is sometimes hard to muster, but the fresh new leaves on the golden elm tell me that there is a always a promise of new life, and new opportunities for us all.

I am sitting at my dining table, looking out over the climbing rose, dripping freshly fallen rain as its branches crawl along the deck.  The daffodils in the blue vase, so boldly yellow and orange, need to be replaced, and I need to dredge up more inspiration to write.  The realisation that I haven’t written since my trip to Australia made me further aware that my pool of creativity had dipped to a seriously low level, and although I usually feel more able to write in times of inner sadness, I have retreated to doing much about nothing these past few weeks.  I find this such a waste, and I hate waste!

However, in the greater scheme of things, I am still extremely blessed with my life.  The past two Mondays, Jan and I have sat down to a delicious roast of free range chicken, organic potatoes, carrots, garlic and onion, with a fresh spinach salad with a zesty dressing.  While the roast is cooking, Jan has been my personal trainer, teaching me how to stretch muscles I didn’t know I had!  My youngest son and I have become even closer through the tough times we have experienced, and I loved watching him get excited as the Logan Park formal approached.  The annual high school formal is such a highlight in the lives of the senior students, but it is really the preparation for the big night which pumps the adrenalin, and plans for the after formal party which stir the heart.  Jan hired a pin stripe suit, read waistcoat and tie, and bought matching red shoes.  He modelled for me the night before the big day, and I was so proud of my youngest son who towered over me.   Although it wasn’t cool for me to see him with his date, I managed to pass him in my car as he walked through the Octagon, and I was over the moon when he texted me near midnight to tell me that he had been chosen as best dressed male.  He said it was the best award he had ever received, far eclipsing the “blue” he received last Thursday for his outstanding performance on the basketball court.  In my day, when we received a blue, we then wore a band around our blazers.  Jan’s school is reintroducing the blazer next year, but this will be too late for Jan who will wear mufti in his last year of school.  Jan and I share a love of clothes, and Jan wants to have a pinstripe suit made in Thailand.  He loves the corporate look, interesting for one so young. 

So much has happened since I last wrote to you, and that is why I decided to stay at home this morning, and attempt to get some of my memories down on paper for you.  Yesterday, I spent the day as message girl, running errands for Karina, and taking my time.  Getting the mail, buying freshly ground coffee from our local café, and choosing a pair of cheap glasses took me two hours!  Wherever I went, I met people I knew, and I enjoyed taking the time to stand and chat.  I even met up with Shahan, Nicky and my grandchildren Ella and Jade, and we sat in my oldest daughter’s café and spent some precious time together. People are often too busy to do this now, and yet it is such an important part of our daily lives. 

A lot of last weekend seemed to be spent driving, and how I wish I had been more attentive to the speed I was driving on Saturday night!  Shahan arrived back from having visited her sister, Suny, and family in Hawea, and as we talked on the straight piece of road leading to her house in Brighton, conversation turned to the man who had tried to commit suicide on the dark night on that very road.  I was so engrossed in what she was saying that I failed to look at my speed, and it was only when I saw the red and blue lights flashing in my rear view mirror did it occur to me that I was travelling over the speed limit.  My heart raced as I cursed my stupidity, and then I panicked as I remembered that I had had some wine at my friends’ home in Warrington where I had spent the afternoon.  The Dutch sounding policewoman asked me to blow into a breathalyser, and a combination of a heavy cold and fear made it almost impossible for me to take a deep breath.  I had never been breath tested after drinking so I didn’t know what my alcohol consumption was.  I certainly felt fine, but I know that I am not large.  Thankfully, the delicious food I had eaten at the barbecue combined with time had obviously settled any alcohol, and I was cleared of any drunk driving.  However, she spotted the car’s warrant of fitness had expired, something which I had not noticed, and luckily she gave me a week to have this updated.  Shahan was a rock of positive affirmation for me, and I just wished that I had felt as in control as she was.  I didn’t let my inner annoyance at myself take control until after Shahan had returned to her home, and the police officer had returned to her car. It was at this time that the floodgates opened, and I cried all the way to Portobello, a forty-minute drive.  I wallowed in self pity; angry that I had been caught speeding after months of not breaking the speed limit, upset that I had panicked in front of Shahan who needed me to be strong; sad because I was returning to an empty house; devastated that my marriage was over and I had worked so hard to keep it together; bereft of my only sister who had survived a car crash only to die a month later; alone with no “significant other” to reminisce over the past and dream for the future.  How much more self-indulgent can one be?  On returning home, the house felt so cold, and I wandered around the garden to calm myself.  I sat on the verandah of the cottage, and took stock of my life, and realised yet again, how incredibly blessed I was.  Seven healthy children and grandchildren who love me dearly, and whom I love more than life itself, excellent health, an amazing school created by fabulous people, and supportive, loving friends.  My little cottage will be my new haven where I can write and feel whole, allowing me to express my inner feelings, create new memories, and envelope me in love and security on my return home.  In this more positive frame of mind, I rang my daughter, Nicky, in Harwood as she had my other car, which I now needed as I couldn’t drive the Previa till it had its warrant.  Colin was at home, Nicky having gone out to a quiz night, and he said he would put the kettle on for a cuppa.  It was good to step into their cosy home, and feel the warmth of the family.  I calmed down as soon as I stepped through the door, and my feelings of familial love were reinforced.

Mentioning that Nicky went to a quiz night reminds me that I invited our teachers to a quiz night, last Thursday evening, which was a fundraiser for a service club I belong to called Zonta.  Last year, the members had thought up the questions, but it was such a time consuming exercise that we left it to someone who offered his services.  Unfortunately, the quiz master was a bit like an old, strict school master, his questions often rather obscure, and if the teacher is uninspiring, as well meaning as he may be, and questions are too difficult, one tends to lose interest.  As in the classroom, we need to be able to relate to what we are learning, have material which is pitched at our level or just slightly higher, and most importantly, be motivated by the teacher.  Why do I relate a social activity back to teaching and learning?  Nicky said that at her quiz night, a fundraiser for the local volunteer fire brigade, the questions tended to be about sport, but although they didn’t win the quiz, her table won lots of raffles!  At our quiz night, we won neither the quiz nor any raffles, while the people at the table next to us won about six.  There is no fairness in this world!  Actually, only joking about being upset about not winning the quiz or the raffles.  It was an enjoyable evening, and we raised a lot of money for a worthy cause.  (One woman at the quiz did complain about not winning, and I find that so sad.  What a sad life she must live!) However, although I can joke about not winning, I am not joking when I said that life wasn’t fair!

Jan has just come in, very excited that he has a personal trainer, and is developing his upper body muscles.  He was selected to work with a student who is training to be a personal trainer at the Otago Polytechnic and this is a win-win situation.  I am feeling inspired to do some more exercise as I have certainly lost the suppleness I used to have!

I will close this letter now, hoping that you are happy and well, and not letting this grey weather get you down.  Han has gone to Nelson with his new partner, taking the West Coast route which is so stunningly beautiful.  It was a trip we were always going to do, so it hurt when I heard that he was doing it with someone else. However, we always had the children, little money, and a huge garden which took all our time.  Do I sound bitter?  Not after the initial knot in my stomach dissolved.  No regrets, a life well lived so far, and a lifetime of new dreams to chase! 

Love

Sharron