News from the
Library
Final Artisan of the Month Entries Open
The final Artisan of the Month for 2022 is now open and closes Sunday 23 October, 11pm. If you have created something you are proud of, email the Library with a digital image or sound file and a brief description:
library@wantirnacollege.vic.edu.au
A reminder that it must be your own work, and that Family & Friends submissions need to mention which student or staff member they are connected to. You can enter anything creative (photos, drawings, sewing, knitting, carpentry, pottery, origami, an original piece of music, decorated cake etc.) so long as it can be submitted digitally (eg photo or sound recording). A maximum of 5 entries per person, preferably in .jpeg or .png format.
Remember – every entry also goes into the end of year Artisan of the Year, with the winner from each category receiving a trophy. Best of luck!
Resident Writers
Congratulations to the following winners of the Term 3 Resident Writers:
- Hannah Game
- Linda Stocks
All Resident Writers entries can be read in the gallery attached to the Resident Writers channel, Library Teams page.
The final 2022 Resident Writers is now taking entries and will close Sunday 13 November, 11pm. All Wantirna College community members are encouraged to enter. The student category winner gets a prize, and the staff and community winners get fame and glory 😊.
Send us those short written pieces you are proud of; essays, stories, poems, lyrics, etc. If it is a Family & Friends submission, please mention which student or staff member you are connected to.
Entries can be emailed to library@wantirnacollege.vic.edu.au
By submitting, you agree to be published in the school community (on Teams, in the College Yearbook, etc) - please let us know if you want to submit but prefer to keep your work anonymous.
Term 3 2022 Student Winner:
The Lake, by Hannah Game
I saw her sitting at the lake, the rain pouring down harder than ever, the pockets of her dress filling up with water, I couldn’t let her sit there any longer not knowing the excitement of the letter in my hand that I did. So down the hill I went. My legs felt that they could just fly off! I could feel the mud soak into my shoes and reach my socks.
When my shoes met the bottom of the hill, my sister finally realised I was there, she set down her pen and paper she was writing and sighed of relief.
‘Don’t sneak up on me like that!’ She snapped. ‘I thought you were mother!’
The opportunity to tease her found me and I took it, she’s my sister after all.
‘You know,’ I said, slyly ‘There’s a reason the people are not allowed out of their houses, it’s dangerous, you realise. Maybe I should tell mother!’
Her smiled of relief faded into an awful death stare.
‘Don’t you dare! She’ll tell the government so that she can get the reward money then I’ll go to the dip and live there for the rest of my life!’
I smiled. Everyone knew the rules, you’re not allowed to go outside of your house unless you have an invitation from the president to come to her palace, otherwise they dump you in this prison called the dip and every week they bring in some sort of device to torture you with. Nobody knows what it is, though my aunt once went to the dip, she was allowed to send letters, but her handwriting was all messed up and her words didn’t make sense, that was odd, considering she’s a very formal lady. She’s the only person I know who’s ever been in the dip, everyone else is too scared to venture outside, either that or they’re too smart to get caught.
‘I don’t know,’ I said to my sister. ‘If you’re so scared to get caught then you shouldn’t have gone out in the first place.’
Her face went pale, and her breath started getting shorter. I couldn’t exactly hear what she was saying, but I heard the occasional ‘please’ once or twice. I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
‘I’m kidding!’ I laughed. ‘I came down here to give you this.’
Her face changed from scared to relieved to confuse, I put the invitation into her hand, and her eyes got bigger and a little smiled appeared on her face.
‘Oh my gosh! It’s from the government! I think I got an invitation!’ She exclaimed, ‘It is! I held it up to the light so I could read it.’
She ripped open the envelope and handed it to me to hold on, I turned it over to see the front and the emerald, green ink glimmered in the sun. Her name smoothly written in neat, curvy handwriting.
‘I’m going to tell mother! She’ll be so excited!’
And she walked off, but deep down I knew that this wasn’t going to be a happy story.
. . . . .
The engine on the train ran as background noise of the field we were in, we said goodbye to our mother, and hopped onto the carriage, the envelope said that she was allowed to bring a guest, they suggested it was a very close family member in the same household. So, I got to come too, as there was no-one else in our family except mother, and God knows what would happen if she took her.
The inside of the carriage was beautifully decorated, a chandelier hung on the roof, a glow emitted from the 5 carefully lit bulbs, it was a white light, not yellow, it made the train seem like the moon was shining on it.
Half an hour later the train started to slow down, it took 3 minutes for it to fully stopped and we jumped out of the train. Once we were out, we walked up a stone path to what seemed like the town square for the government, you see, the richest of the rich get transferred to the government quarters, meaning they get to go outside, into what they call the village. We were immediately bombarded with welcome signs and marching bands, invitations are rare, so they try to make them special. After many photos from the press with the president herself. We were taken to the palace and the mood changed to grim, the smile for the paparazzi on the president changed to a frown, we were taken into a bland meeting room, and she took a seat at the head of the table.
‘Sit!’ She snapped, we quickly sat down, my heartbeat like a drum the way it beats, if there is one person you don’t want to disobey, it’s the president.
‘Now, I think we need to have a little bit of a chat here girls,’ she said, ‘I don’t know if you have noticed, but this is not your average invitation party.’
I could feel my stomach drop, it’s not good news when the person who could kill you with just a snap of the fingers has that grimacing look.
She clicked a button on a little remote and a screen appeared, she clicked the button again and a picture of my sister and I appeared on the screen, outside. Click! Another one. Click! Again! One final Click turned the screen off and she stared deep into our eyes.
I didn’t know what the future would intake, but I knew we were going to the dip.
Term 3 2022 Staff Winner: The New Arrival by Linda Stocks
She came without knocking,
her arrival life changing.
She brought nothing,
no food
no clothing
no worldly belongings
no pre-conceived ideals.
She was a blank canvas,
a picture not yet drawn.
Her history shaped by ancestors,
but her future depended on family.
Days passed like a passenger train to the city,
stations were milestones.
Her smile gave pleasure,
her cries fatigue.
Food, clothes and worldly belongings appeared.
She spat out dislikes
and embraced passions.
A personality like a sculptured masterpiece
grew into an identity.
Words expressed thoughts,
movement led to discoveries.
An unexplored world
full of life, love and adventure.
Her understanding was a watered seed.
Roots of knowledge
and stems of skill
blossomed into wisdom.
She captured hearts
and made herself known
to the outside world.
A destiny to unravel,
a life journey had begun.
Joanne Montgomery
Library Manager