I was thirteen when my mother gave me Girl Stuff for Christmas. I remember looking at the bright blue cover and refusing to take a bar of it. The swirly pink writing and implication that I would be interested in anything girly was just downright offensive, thank-you-very-much. After all I was thirteen, well on my way to womanhood and fairly confident that I already knew everything there was to know about anything. Read More
I used to be one of you. I used to tread these hallowed halls in an academic gown, and ugg boots or thongs, weather dependent. I used to ask Deepak for extra sweet corn. I used to banter with Abdul, leave brunch with scones in my pockets, and burn cheese in the grill. I used to proudly wear my bumblebee at rugby matches and my pyjamas at breakfast. Read More
I remember moving into Ormond. It was Saturday, the 19th of February 2011. Ripped and Admiral helped me move into Picken C2, and as we ascended the stairs I stopped and looked at a poster full of pictures of the people I would soon regard as the most important people in my life.
That was two and a half years ago now, and for those of you out there who are also recalling that warm February day in 2011, you’re a third-year. And if that’s the case, this is probably your last semester at Ormond. A semester of lasts – it sounds so solemn. Read More
Ladakh, also known as ‘the land of high passes’, is a remote trans-Himalayan region of India which is tucked between Kashmir and the Chinese border. The landscape is mesmerising – arid, rocky mountains interspersed with lush green valleys and tiny villages nestled in between. Chortens, or stupas, dot the desert and traditional houses are built into the steep faces of the mountain ridge. Read More
In every institution I have entered, my year level has been the guinea pig for a new facility. In primary school, we were the first to stain the carpets of ‘Building A’ with our Texta nibs and sandwich crumbs. In high school, we were the first into the ‘Lyceum’, a split-story building that seated fifty-two in a classroom – their poster child for a new model of ‘integrated learning’. Read More
The stability of the roof is something most Ormondians assume is a fact. The plaster pile on my floor seemed more likely to be a mess of my own creation. However, the gaping hole in my ceiling meant my only option was to head home for the Mother’s Day weekend. With my room in need of repairs, the College arranged temporary accommodation. Read More