Middle School

Bourinjin

Students from Year 7 to 12 are representing the school on Friday 14/9/18. Cass Mossman and Mazz Post have selected teams to ensure all students have a chance to try the sport if they were not successful last year. For more information please refer to the the flier above.

Good luck to the teams!

Poems from the heart

The year 8 Students have completed a unit ‘ Australian Poetry’. All poems have been submitted in a writing competition as they demonstrate a greater connection and understanding of what is a current issue in Australia.

Attached are poems written by Noah Sullivan, Emily Jeffs and Angus Bourchier.

Dungala- Kaiela Writing awards.

The Dungala Kaiela 'Express Yourself" Writing Awards give Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people with a connection to the Goulburn Valley region a voice and encouragement to express themselves and develop literacy in their own cultural styles, and to share, and earn awards for their writing in any form - stories, yarns, articles, poems. The competition is into its sixth year. Mazz Post’s 2018 entry is below. Mazz was awarded a prize for her piece last year and we wish her luck again this year.

The crack of the branch warned me that he was close.

I froze, the terror rushing through my spine. I want to scream but that will let him know where I am hiding. I am cold. I want to be in the warmth of my Mother’s arms but if I move and he catches me I would never be able to feel that tenderness again. I can see the sun start to set over near the river. I should be collecting the wood for my family for our evening fire, instead I am hiding from a stranger who threatens to take me away from my home and everything that is important to me in this world. He takes another step in my direction. I can smell the scent of tobacco and sweat strong in my nostrils. Still frozen, my body betrays me and I let out a whimper. I blink. When my eyes open I am looking into the eyes of a monster. I can’t run fast enough to escape his grip, his fingers digging into my arms make me cry out in pain. He drags me to his car, he then throws me into the back seat. I can’t see through my tears. My heart is racing, I am scared, I want to see my mum. I’m fighting so hard to escape. My screams are not helping, no one is close enough to hear my pain. I’m so exhausted that I stop fighting, stop screaming, stop feeling, I am numb.

I feel the sun on my bare arm and it reminds me of home. I open my eyes and see rows and rows of beds with other kids just like me. I can see their unspoken hurt. I don’t feel safe here. I want to get out of here and go home. I can feel that home is ages away and I have no way of getting there. All I could do is run but even that is hard. I’m too weak. I have no energy. No hope. My heart is torn, I miss my Mother’s voice. I’m finding it hard to not think about my Mother, I’m close to crying. There is an ache in my throat. My bottom lip is quivering. I close my eyes to stop the pain. I must’ve fallen asleep when I felt a soft touch. I turned to cuddle my Mother but when I opened my eyes it’s not my mother but the kind eyes of a girl. She soothed me and whispered that ‘everything was going to be okay’. As the hours turn into days, the days turn into weeks, the weeks turn into months, the months turn into years. We became the best of friends and without her I don’t think I would have survived that horrible place.

My friendship with her grew strong. We shared everything. Our fears, our dreams, our wishes for home and our deep ache of missing our lost family. We whispered our language so we wouldn’t forget where we were from and where we wished to return. We promised each other that we would get out of here together. To find home. To go back to our families. We plan and scheme and decide to escape on the next big moon.

We wait for everyone to be asleep and with terror in our hearts we tiptoe out of the room and sneak down to the fence that divides us from our freedom. The terror is once again rushing through my spine. This time we will run, not hide. We look at each other our eyes wild. We hear the crack of a branch and we smell tobacco and sweat. I let out a cry. She grabs my hand and forces me to run with her. I can hear the thud of heavy boots but we run until we can’t breathe. The thought of home gives me the strength to keep going. I finally have hope. The cold is leaving me, I can finally feel the warmth of my Mother’s arms. -Mazz Post

Horror- 9B English

This term Year 9s have been developing their reading, writing, speaking and listening skills using the theme: Horror. They have drawn creatures, described haunted houses, written stories, and presented to their classes on a range of horror topics that have interested them.

Reading  At St Joseph’s Primary School

On Wednesdays during the month of August 2018 a group of our wonderful Year 9 students

Molly Poole, Taryn Miller, Jade Williams, Isla McCracken and Mitchel Payne

assisted the Year 5/6 teachers at St Josephs Primary School with their daily reading program.  

Our students loved the experience interacting with the younger students and supporting them with such an important part of their schooling.

Feedback from the St Joseph’s staff is that our students conducted themselves in a very mature manner and that  their assistance was greatly appreciated.

So much was their assistance valued, that the staff have asked for this reading support to be ongoing.

Thank you to our students for setting such a wonderful example, we are very proud of you.