Theatre Club 2021…It’s the Arts that got us through COVID

After our family and friends it is probably safe to say it is the Arts that got us through COVID. That music you listened to, the books you read and endless Netflix you watched is what kept you entertained. All those Netflix actors started their careers on stage and sadly theatre has been one of the worst hit industries this year.

However, as always, the Arts find a way to adapt and survive and luckily for us our theatre partners have made it through 2020 and will be reopening in 2021, which means Theatre Club can continue to run.

Theatre Club is open to the whole school community, whether you are already an avid lover of theatre or have never been and are a little curious we would love to have you join Theatre Club 2021.

The idea behind this initiative is to broaden the experiences our students have with the theatre and to start a dialogue about the ideas they have seen. We book a range of shows at different theatres. Theatre has always been about telling stories. Stories that entertain and engage us, stories that hold up a mirror to society and show us the truth of the world. It is not always a beautiful truth, but there is beauty in the feeling that theatre gives us, coming together to hear and watch a moment spring to life on stage. We are able to leave feeling hopeful and connected.

All the shows are booked in the evening to avoid taking students out of class and so that parents, carers and families may attend. As this is an invitation and not an excursion, the College will not be providing transport to or from the theatre.

Information on the plays we are seeing can be accessed on the following link:

https://www.spc.nsw.edu.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/SPC-Theatre-Club-Flyer-2021-002.pdf

Bookings can be made using the online booking system by following this link:

https://fs12.formsite.com/DGcTIp/dok1bpv07g/index.html

As we need to give the theatres numbers, it would be greatly appreciated if you could fill out the form before the end of term if you are interested in joining Theatre Club. For those who fill out the online form, once numbers and dates are confirmed you will be contacted to confirm before the cost is added to your 2021 school account.

If you have any questions please contact me - rebecca.duff@spc.nsw.edu.au

Rebecca Duff

Drama Teacher

English Imaginative Writing

The development of students’ creative and imaginative writing is an essential component of the work we do in English at all year levels and stages. It improves written expression, which is an essential transferable skill; it engages students in a deeper evaluation of what they read; and it develops creativity. Below are two outstanding examples of imaginative writing from boys in Year 9.

Hefley’s Hill

Hefley’s Hill stood high over a small rural town in outback Australia, its shadow like a blanket over the town. After a disastrous bushfire, there was no life on the hill, only dead grass covering its surface. At the peak of the hill stood a tree stump. The town was sceptical as to how it survived the fire, many were amazed and many were curious, however, no one had ever gone up the hill since the fire, as it was rumoured that the disastrous fire that wiped out the town was started at the hill’s peak.

*******

“Hurry up and get your bloody snacks! Then get out of my store.” As usual Anthony, the store owner, was angry. He ran the only convenience store in town, so if I wanted snacks, I had to put up with him. He was in his mid-seventies and I had been alive for 15 years, and not once seen him smile. He hated me and I hated him. I had been wanting to try a cigarette for the first time, and the only way I could get one, was to steal it from his store. The only problem was that he kept the cigarettes behind the counter. So I had to wait for him to go into the back before I made my move. I wandered through the aisles, keeping him in the corner of my eye as he sat behind the counter.

Soon after, he got up with a groan and walked into the back of the store. I dashed to the counter, leaned over it and managed to slip a packet of cigarettes into my hand. I quickly put them in my back pocket and put a bag of chips on the counter, followed by some left over change. He came out from the back and approached the counter, eyeing me down all the way. “You took that long in my store, just for a bag of chips?”

I kept my head down and nodded. He continued to stare at me as he gathered my change. I could feel my legs shaking beneath me, I thought he knew.

“Don’t fall on your way out,” he laughed, throwing my chips on the floor. Relieved, I picked up my chips and headed straight for the door smiling, because I had the last laugh.

*******

It was a beautiful summer’s day in 1973. The kids were playing in the streets, the men at the markets and the housewives preparing a feast. Anthony, the local store owner was struggling to keep up with business. Between all the kids coming in with their chore money, and all the mothers keeping up with the groceries, Anthony hadn’t stopped working. He served one last kid a bottle of orange juice then put up a sign – “be back soon” – on the front door. It was time for his daily smoke. He grabbed his cigarettes from the back, along with his lighter, and walked up a hill that sat just behind the store. As he was smoking, wind picked up and took his cigarette. It landed on a patch of dead grass and lit immediately. Anthony saw this and walked away, thinking the fire would put itself out.

The whole town was at their dinner tables at 7pm. As usual, Anthony took this time to take a nap. The streets were dead, the birds were asleep, everything was quiet and peaceful. However, no one realised the fire mountain just behind the town. The little fire that Anthony told himself would put itself out, had engulfed the whole hill, and was rushing quickly towards the houses, like a big wave.

The aftermath was disastrous. Everything was destroyed except for Anthony’s store. When Anthony finally woke, he heard screaming and crying. He went up to the front door to take off the sign, when he froze witnessing his town ablaze. Then he remembered his wife. He ran out into what felt like hell, fire all around him. It was when he saw the hill consumed by flames, he realised what he had done. By the time he made it to his house, it was too late. What used to be his house was now nothing but ashes, piling up on the floor. He tried to run in and look for his wife but was held back by firefighters. “My wife!” he screamed, “My wife is in there.” "No she's not," one of the firefighters said, "she's up there now, " pointing towards the sky.

*******

Behind the store was this hill, where I was planning to smoke. After finally reaching the top I found a tree stump, where I sat down and lit the cigarette. I was about to have my first puff when I heard someone scream, “STOP!” I dropped my cigarette in shock and turned to see the store owner. He started running towards me and I braced as he approached me. After a couple of seconds, I looked up from behind my arms to see him standing above me trying to put my cigarette out. “Go down to my store, and start cleaning, or your parents will hear about this,” his voice came out shaky.

I had been mopping the floor for about 15 mins before he came back. His eyes were red and his lashes were wet. He was crying. I pretended I didn’t see him and continued mopping as he sat back down behind the counter. I continued to mop as we both stayed silent. “My wife- my wife was beautiful,” he began, “She had beautiful eyes, and the finest hair. We were inseparable.”

I looked and saw tears rolling down his cheeks. “We always used to hangout up on that hill and would sit on that same tree stump you did, and just watch the town below us. We would sit up there ‘till the early morning, not wanting to go down to reality below us. I eventually gained the guts and I proposed to her on a summer night, knelt on that exact tree stump. She said yes.” He smiled. “We got married up on the hill, just us two and the town priest.”

He paused, as he tried to collect himself. “I was working one day back in ’73 and went up that hill to have a smoke, just like you,” he gulped. “I dropped my cigarette and it immediately lit the grass up there. I didn’t think anything of it and ran back to the shop.”

He then went on to tell me what we had learned in school, the ‘Great 1973 Fires.’ But one thing I didn’t know was that the store owner had started it. This explained why he was always grumpy and moody. He walked around everyday carrying the burden that he had killed many people in this town, including his wife, and I treated him like rubbish. I was shaken. I didn’t know how to repay him. There was only one thing I could do. I finished mopping the floor and approached the counter. His head was buried into his arms, weeping. I grabbed the cigarettes from my back pocket, placed them on the counter and walked out.

Christian Bitar - Year 9 Student

Be Careful What You Wish For

Mum’s always said to be careful what you wish for, but at the time all I was wishing for was for my twin brother Simon to get lost. It wasn’t until he really did, that things changed. All siblings fight, but since we became teenagers, Simon and I were constantly at each other's throats. I always felt very different from my twin and embarrassed by his reserved nature and awkward social behaviour. The more my friends made fun of him, the more I convinced myself that he was weird and that we had nothing in common. What was so ironic about this was that Simon and I were identical. We both got our mother’s golden blonde hair and her crystal blue eyes. We even had the same birthmark as our dad, on our right calf.

When we were younger, Simon and I were inseparable, we did everything together. We played sport together, we went to the beach together, we tried new things together. It wasn’t until we were 13 that I moved into my own room. Mum couldn’t stand the constant fighting. Every night it was like a warzone. It always started with me saying something stupid that I would later regret. Then from there it would just escalate. When we were fighting, I was always under the impression that he was the one initiating the fight but then as soon as we stopped, I would go to my room and cry. He would never hear me though, because he was in his room.

One day we were at Main Beach for Australia Day. There wasn’t one grain of sand that wasn’t being sheltered by the shade of the umbrellas. Forster isn’t a big place, but every man and his dog was there that day, the only person I couldn’t see was Simon. He’d said he would be there but there was no sight of him, but I shortly concluded that he had taken shelter from the crowds.

Nobody knew much about it, but those who did, called it Henley’s Hideout. Simon and I had found out about Henley’s Hideout back when we were younger and named it after an old surfer who died after getting sucked into the treacherous rocks that lined the shores of the beach. Most people avoided Henley’s Hideout and wouldn’t attempt to cross the rocks to get there. Those who did, never made it back without at least a few scratches. The razor-sharp, slippery rocks coated in moss guarded the cave, making it near impossible to reach. However, once you did get there it was amazing. The walls caved in, providing shelter from the elements and if you were brave enough to wait till dusk it was picturesque. The clear water shimmered peacefully and reflected the shades of pink, violet, orange and red. It was like a place of refuge for Simon and me because we only ever told our closest friends about it.

My mate Pete and I scaled the rocks making our way to the hideout. We laughed and insulted each other as we semi-consciously raced for nothing but pride. We turned the corner and there he was, nervously talking with Kate. You could tell he was nervous by the way he kept looking down and uncontrollably tapping his foot. I decided that I was going to ruin Simon’s day. For what reason? I will never know. I slowly approached him, placing my hand on his shoulder and said, “Hey Simon, did you tell Kate about your little bedtime problem?” He froze and turned to me. The look on Simon’s face wasn’t one of anger but one of pure disappointment. He gave me a look that simply said “why?” He looked down at his ball and pegged it at me, missing miserably, sending it into the rocks. The only thing for him to do was to leave. He shoved me as he stormed off. “Get lost!” I remember shouting. As he left, I heard him mumble under his breath, “Maybe I will!”

The next morning, I woke up to a silent household. I hadn’t slept much the night before; I couldn’t get that look on Simon’s face out of my head. Something felt different about that morning and I had a weird feeling in my stomach. Dad had gone to work, and mum had gone on her weekly grocery shop. I yawned and stretched my way out of bed and limped toward the kitchen looking for something to eat. Simon’s door was closed and there was no sound coming from his room. I poured myself some cereal and sat by myself at the kitchen table, throwing and catching Simon’s ball in one hand and eating my breakfast in the other. As I threw his ball, I thought about what had happened the day before. I thought it was just a joke and that Simon had made it way bigger than it was. As always though, I knew deep down that I was being an idiot, so I went back to Simon’s room to give his ball back. The wooden door was cold as I rested my ear against it listening to see if he was awake. Nothing. I gently opened the door, trying not to make any sudden noises. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, I just wanted to give his ball back. As I opened the door I realised he wasn’t there. His bed was perfectly made like any other day with everything in its place, except Simon.

It had been the whole day since Simon had gone missing. It had been a whole day that this immense feeling of guilt, anger and regret had churned inside of me. Terrible thoughts bounced around my mind as Simon’s ball bounced around in my pocket. Word had spread fast that he had disappeared, and I worried that it wasn’t long before people started pointing fingers. I acted innocent as if I had no idea why he’d run away. But I knew. All the pain I had put him through, yet he’d always insisted we put our differences aside. I had to put on a tough face around everybody as I walked through the town looking for him. Even after he had gone missing, I still cared more about what my so called ‘friends’ thought of me. That afternoon I lay in bed, throwing and catching his ball. I couldn’t let this feeling sit inside of me any longer.

I went out to my parents who had just got off the phone with the Jones’, some of our close friends. I took a deep breath and spat everything out in one breath. “It’s all my fault. This is all my fault. I have been the worst brother for Simon’s whole life, and he couldn’t take it anymore!” That was all I could manage before I burst into tears.

“Nicky, stop. This isn’t your fault; you can’t push this all onto yourself.”

“But you don’t understand” I said through tears. “Yesterday, I did something bad and told him to get lost and now he has!”

My mother's warm hands comforted me, and we all sat in silence. It was only then that I realised that Simon had to be at the hideout. Where else would he be. I told my parents I needed to go now before it got dark. They were confused. They didn’t even know what Henley’s Hideout was. We raced down to the beach as the sun slowly fell. My parents couldn’t keep up as we climbed the rocks. Mum’s always said that twins have a sixth sense and I swear I could feel it now. I turned the corner, breathing heavily expecting to see Simon sitting there, but he wasn’t. I was confused, I was sure he was going to be there. A minute later my parents came around the corner and started tearing up when they saw me sitting alone. I was finished. I had nowhere else to look.

When it seemed our search was over and that Simon was beyond our reach, he appeared from around the corner. Our eyes locked and I remember sitting there speechless. I had so much to explain. So much I needed to tell him. I reached into my pocket, but the ball wasn’t there. I looked at him and he held the ball out in his open hand, “I think you dropped this.”

I was stunned, that ball hadn’t left me this whole time, it must’ve fallen out while I was climbing the rocks, “It’s fine, you can keep it.” I finally felt at peace with myself and Simon, this time I wasn’t going to let him go. Mum’s always said to be careful what you wish for, I finally understood why.

Alessandro Romeo - Year 9 Student

Adam Leslie

English Faculty Leader

Co-curricular

Wind Ensemble Hits the High Note