Not a big fan of the big fancy word, so let’s instead use, studying human behavior shall we? So, I spent a lot of time over the last day and a half down at the fabulous Mt Barker JazzFest taking photographs. Lured by the legendary Don Burrows performance, and encouraging Tyson to listen and be inspired by all the awesome Clarinet players that were appearing over the different groups.
Actually, I think this particular fog comes from a little earlier than that. On Wednesday this week, *skip* and I had an appointment to meet the principal and have a tour of Tyson’s future High School. Why is it that a Home Ec classroom smell hasn’t changed in the last 20 years? Strange, but true. Also the woodworkshop and Metal Shop. Very familiar smells. We hope that he will be happy there, but there is no magic formula.
I left high school 19 years ago. I didn’t finish to Year 12, due to just never being the right type of person, and sadly, systematic bullying through the last couple of years. Now, when I look back on it, I know that it wasn’t handled properly, either by my parents, or the school, but that really is digressing. My point is simply that I don’t have that many happy memories from that time.
Fast forward to yesterday, and I ran into one of my old teachers performing at the Jazz Festival. Lovely man, who had a very nice son in my year, so we played the catch up game and were pleased to see each other. Of course, from there it’s only a short step today to playing around on facebook and finding so many people that were important for both good and bad reasons in my life then.
I just thought it was interesting, that this week just took me back such a long way, in just a few hours. Smells, sounds, familiar feelings and then suddenly off we go again.
It’s also interesting that you think how when you encounter stressful situations, then you revert to long forgotten coping mechanisms. I put myself out there somewhat last night, and felt just like a scruffy dirty school-child, as much as I did 19 years ago. It sent me reeling to feel like that, and filled me with fear and foreboding for my son’s future. May I survive, and may I be a supportive and encouraging parent. Whatever it takes, may I do it, to see him through. To teach him courage, to cope, the skills that he will need on his journey.
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