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Saturday 28 December 2013

Crazy day in the middle of the silly season!



Today! When I got up I thought I had all the time in the world to get of to Greg and Allister's home by 1. Mom needed Lotto tickets. Pick mom up get the tickets take her home. Just doing some computer work and writing and my silence is shattered by a whatsapp message from my daughter. Cristen says she is off duty from 12 to 1 today and can see you.

A little bit of adjusting to be done. One big one is Does mom want to see Cristen. – Yes she does so next call to Greg can I bring mom? Gorgeous Greg says NO Problem! AND can I pitch ½ hr late? Also fine!
Off to the shop for Lotto checking and buying. As we getting into the car Cristen phones. 
"When are you guys coming?" 
"We are leaving New Germany now – gives us 30 minutes!"
"Cool!" says my girl.

We get to the harbour and All I can think of is "Follow That Ship!" – Not so easy! Thank heavens for lovely personal lining the route and steering you in the right direction.

It was just an hour so we didn't manage to get on board but we chatted up a storm in the stormy wind conditions. I watched the clouds scudding by a quite a pace. A helicopter came in to land - the wind was skewing the tail around making it difficult to land, she introduced us to quite a few crew members who helped her settle and look after her. We went in to try to book a 7 day cruise – her treat! For her mom, dad, sister + sister's bf, gran (that's me!) and great gran. I am viewing it with a bit of trepidation!

Then off to our lunch. Lovely company! There was Di and Di and Greg and Greg (no I wasn't seeing double!) Allister, mom and I. 3 friends stretching back in time and two new friends + the dog population and the FOOD! Oh Greg! First the table was creaking and Then I was creaking (and growling weird noises!) the orchids adding an exotic ambience!

Your dogs are so well behaved and are excellent guard dogs.

Guys! Thank you for the island of fun in amongst the rest of the things that happen in the silly season!

Wednesday 25 December 2013

Extract from new novel



One last kiss for both of them and then Sharon turned away to hide the tears that were threatening. Just before she disappeared through the gate she turned back to see her parents standing, arms around each other, smiling and waving goodbye. One last wave and then she walked quickly through the gate and stood in line to put her hand luggage through the x-ray machine before stepping through the metal detector.

As she approached the device airport security provided a bin for her cell phone and laptop. She placed her hand luggage and bag on the conveyor belt and was startled to hear the operator shouting "Knife! Knife!" Her bag was removed and searched.

"You've got to be kidding!" she exclaimed as they extracted her tiny penknife. It was so small that it had become entangled in the lining of the bag. It had sentimental value and couldn't even cut anything – the blade, all one centimetre of it, was so blunt. It was a childhood toy given to her by her first boyfriend, thirteen year old Karl. She always carried it with her. She felt that it was a good luck symbol. "Who am I going to threaten with that?"

"Sorry it can't go on board with you."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Put it in the bin and then you can proceed."

"But…" Sharon looked at the unsympathetic sea of faces staring back at her. She shrugged her shoulders, bit back the tears, dropped the penknife in the bin, collected her electronics, her bag and her hand luggage and carried on. What a horrible way to start her new life!

She collected her bags and laptop and made her way to the plane. She had never been on a flight before so she watched the people in front of her to see what they were doing. They were carrying what looked like a booklet in their hand – Oh damn – her boarding pass! She stepped to the side to allow other passengers to pass her and scratched in her bag. Just as she was feeling frantic her fingers curled over the booklet. She pulled it out, adjusted her bags and joined the queue again. Her mind raced over a list of things  - "Oh God! Am I becoming OCD?" she thought. "Keep calm – take a few deep breaths … there! You have everything. You can do this!"

By this time she was on the tarmac aiming for (she hoped) her plane. She mounted the steps and had a crazy moment on the top step. She wanted to turn around and wave regally! No maybe it would be better to pretend there were throngs of fans lining the tarmac being kept back by hordes of policemen and security guards all screaming her name!
"That's better, Sharon keep a smile on those lips!" she chided herself as she waited for the hostess to help her find her seat.

Tuesday 24 December 2013

Christmas wishes or Happy Holidays?



What's on my mind? Greta Garbo! I REALLY "vant to be alone!" As a result I have not posted for ages.


However it is the time to be jolly and one must socialise otherwise I might as well dub myself



Scrooge! It's been a year of extremes. The highs have flown over the top, the lows have plummeted below ground level I am not sure if I want to wave this year goodbye and wish it good riddance or if I want to cling on to it for as long as possible. This is the latest I have ever left Christmas shopping so I hope I will be home by 8pm! I hate crowds so whoopdedo! My own fault - I just didn't see it coming!



Lets look at two things Christ + Mas = celebration for Christ. I really don't care if his birthday was on another day, lets celebrate it whenever. For years I wanted to change my birthday from the 26th Dec to 26th June but no-one will co-operate! An actual day does not matter. Let us just select a day (Wednesday is convenient) and all (Christians, Jews, agnostics etc) just spend one day to try to be the best person you could ever be and who knows it may become a habit. And if you are Christians I wish you a Merry Christmas and if you are not Christians, well feel free to enjoy our holiday and I will wish you a happy holiday.



Last night a lovely Muslim lady wished me Merry Christmas! Thank you Mariam! And have a good holiday season.

For those of us who are Christians may I take this opportunity to wish you all the joy of Christmas with this photo to remind us where it all began

And for everyone a bit of humour my cat loving self  adores thius cartoon!


Love to all!

Friday 6 December 2013

Amazon has Full Circle!

My book, "Full Circle" has gone live on Amazon.

"Full Circle" was unveiled on 26th November at a librarian conference in the ICC in Durban.
The official launch took place on 27th November at Exclusive Books.
During the Thisability Expo on the 2nd and 3rd December it received attention from Mr Musa Zulu and Tape Aids for the Blind.

Now it is available as an e-book at Amazon. It can be viewed at:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H58VB80




Tuesday 26 November 2013

Full Circle





Cover Design By: Manuela Cardiga © 2013
Published by umSinsi Press © 2013


I have drawn inspiration for this book from the wonderful work done by many who work with people with This Ability and from the people themselves who have fought for acceptance.
I was privileged to teach at the Open Air School in Durban for a short stint as a locum. I was feeling bruised and battered by an experience in a main stream school. The children welcomed me with open arms. Their ready acceptance and joy for education helped heal my battered teacher's psyche. I salute them for their abilities to achieve regardless of major physical problems. In four short weeks they crept into my soul.
"Full Circle" will be launched at Exclusive book stores on the morning of 27th November.
I have a stand at the "ThisAbility DEEP Expo" on the 2nd and 3rd December where all my books will be on display.
All my books are available as e-books on Amazon. "Full Circle" will be published on Amazon towards the end of the first week of December.
Reviews:
Manuela Cardiga (author of “Guilty Pleasures”):
Bandile was a boy like any other boy. He loved soccer, TV, music and dancing. Most of all Bandile wanted to dance, and then one moment in one carefree day something happened and all his dreams were swept away.
He had to learn that with courage and a little help from friends and family he could dance the true dance of life.
Vera Alexander has gifted us with a story of perseverance and courage all wrapped up in a stubborn joyous optimism, uncluttered by cheap sentimentality.
This is the story of one boy’s life – Full Circle – from a devastating loss to his recovery taking back his life and his dreams; and Alexander writes it with the impassioned and unpretentious simplicity of a true story teller.
Alexander has captured the African culture, its very tone and cadence and attitude with great tenderness and admiration. I love this book!
Elaine Duncan:
I sat down and read your book in one sitting. The flow and staccato sections are an integral part of the story; the characters’ names are as colourful as they are; the tragedy touches one’s heart, without being over-dramatic.  The book is great.
The concept of this story is unusual and, in fact, quite unique. The story progresses effortlessly page by page, and one never knows what to expect next, or where it is going.  An initial reaction that baby Bandile’s life is destined to tragedy dissipates as soon as the colourful characters in the story are established, and it becomes apparent that he is part of a very loving family. This holds him in great stead when his life takes an unexpected turn. There are morals in the story, but they are not shoved down one’s throat. It’s a thoroughly engrossing story, and a very good read.
Heather Miller (Primary School Teacher):
I simply loved Bandile! Thank you so much for the privilege of reading it.
Peter Turner (Photographer):
I read "Full Circle" and enjoyed it very much. My first impression was that it was a children's story that had much bigger undertones but that is fine - look at the many 'children's' books that have been taken seriously at all ages - like 'I am David' - have you read it? Keep on going!
A write-up of the book can also be found on www.umsinsi.com

Wednesday 13 November 2013

Horror for a Pacifist

I am a peace loving person.

Travelling back home along the M7 (the highway connecting Durban to Pinetown) I was horrified to see one man kicking, pushing and beating another man with what looked like a stick. (I was to discover later that it was a baseball bat.) My cell phone was in the back pocket of my jeans and I battled to get it out. I pulled off the road a few metres in front of these two and managed to get my cell phone out of my pcket. As I phoned the emergency number I watched as another man ran across both lanes of the highway to join in the fray with a very thin "stick". (Later I discovered this was a golf club.) Both were now attacking the victim. Beating him, pulling him across the tar by his feet as he tried to shield his head.

I was shaking as I viewed this barbarity. My one thought was what could a single (lets face it – elderly) white woman do in the face of this barbarity. By now two other cars had pulled off the road in front of me. But no-one got out to help. One police car screamed past us – sirens blaring. I was still on the phone with emergency when another cop car came rushing by. By this time I had my window down and started hooting and waving to attract their attention. They swerved off the road in front of me and casually got out – a white woman and a black man.

By this time the trio were making their way towards the cops. The two weapon wielding individuals dragging a blood soaked victim between them.

I called out the window, "Do you need me?"

The cops either ignored me, were too busy with the group or didn't hear me. So I got out of the car to repeat my question. It was then that I saw just what the weapons were.

The white woman cop answered "Yes you can go. We know about this man. These others caught him."

"But using those weapons?" I blurted out. "I don't care what he has done no-one deserves the barbaric attack that I saw!" (This was ignored by the cops, the attackers and the other on-lookers.)

As I made my way back to the car I glanced at the victim. His haunted eyes locked with mine for an instant, blood pouring down his face, head and neck, shirt blood soaked. I caught a glimpse of relief and thanks in his eyes as I climbed into my car.

The horror of what two human's could do to another in a fit of rage permeates my being tonight.

Tuesday 12 November 2013

South African Rural Literature


I am one of the typists/editors of stories written by rural children of all ages.

A very sad fact is becoming evident to me. These young authors come from one district. This district encompasses many schools. The race spread of these young authors reflects the race percentages in our country. The children are free to write in English or the language of their instruction. In this region that language is Zulu. I type and edit the English stories. As I open up a bundle sent by the school, I read the first paragraph or two before starting to type and this is where some disturbing facts become evident.

  • All the learners from some of the schools write very well necessitating minor editing.
  • All the learners from some of the other schools cannot string together a coherent sentence.
  • And then we have the schools where some of the learners write excellent stories, others write imaginatively with a few grammatical or spelling mistakes and some do not write that well. This is to me reflects the norm.

How can our English education differ so much in schools where all things should be considered equal? Why has this escaped the powers that be? Instead of griping about all sorts of issues we need to get down to grass roots level and give these children the best education in English that is humanly possible. They need to be understood in a language that is generally understood by many people world wide and that language, according to many sources, is English. It saddens me that we are allowing this lack of knowledge to perpetuate in the modern world.

But something very positive is evident in these stories – some of the children display incredible imaginations.  I am transported to other worlds, the text may be faulty but the gift of storytelling is there. Please give these children the gift of knowledge so that they can become amazing citizens in this crippled country of ours – these children are the ones who can lead us to greener pastures if they are given the power.

Sunday 10 November 2013

Salute to Felicity



Tonight I want to introduce a lady called Felicity Keats. Felicity has a vision. She believes that a lot of South Africa's problems would be solved if our children were led in a positive way by educating their minds to lead them to a brighter future.

She travels to rural areas where she trains teachers and children to write using their right brains. It is an established fact that creativity stems from the right brain. She teaches her delegates how to switch off the left brain so that the creative right brain can explore its ideas.

The resultant stories are typed, edited and printed. The school, area or writing club receives a copy. This copy brings delight not only to the authors but to the rest of the children in the area as they know that this book was written by people who can relate to their life. This project serves two purposes. The first one being encouraging the children to write creatively and secondly to encourage the children to read.

Felicity is currently assembling an anthology of work resulting from trainings held in Westville Prison.

It is not for nothing that she received one of the prestigious Living Legends awards last year.

Just one word: Please don't rush to submit scripts to Felicity – Felicity only publishes those she trains or has been instrumental in having them trained.

If you are interested in learning more about Felicity or her Dancing Pencils Writing Clubs or her web details are:

As the organisation is a non-profit organisation, it has recently signed up with Given Gain. If anyone is interested finding out about the present project please go to:
http://www.givengain.com/cause/3991/

Thursday 7 November 2013

Addictions



For some reason today my thoughts turned to addictions.

Addiction takes many forms. Some people are addicted to the predictable things like drugs and alcohol. Others are addicted to food, shopping, watching soapies, craving affection and love.

I know of many women who have more shoes than there are days in the year. They see a picture of a new style and they have to have it. And they have to have it in every conceivable colour. Why? You can only wear one pair of shoes at a time. I am a women and I hate it when the acquisition of shoes is viewed as a "woman thing". If a pair of shoes is comfortable I will wear it day in and day out. When I was a young sexy (hopefully the guys weren't lying!) thing I used to wear stiletto heels – I taught in stiletto heels but I still only had a sensible number of shoes – 4 maybe 5 (and that included the sloppy ones I wore around the house). I did not need more. Is the acquisition of shoes an addiction? I think it is.

My first personal thoughts on this topic were "Nah! I'm not addicted to anything." But suddenly, out of my subconscious, popped the thought, "I'm addicted to dance." And then fast on the heels of that thought, "I'm addicted to writing." I know I can survive a few days without one or the other but very soon I start to get itchy feet and/or itchy fingers.

So what is an addiction and what makes a person an addict? I went to my reliable internet source – the freedictionary. Do you know that the word addict has its roots in the phrase "to award as a slave"? Transcribing this to the modern world infers that an addict is a slave to their addiction. This now begins to make a bit more sense.

From here my thoughts travelled to the word "Fan". This is short for "Fanatic" – a person who is motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm for a cause. This word comes from the Latin fanaticus (inspired by orgiastic rights) (Again my heartfelt thanks to the freedictionary)

My weird mind has now taken this leap – If you are a fan then you must be an addict.

Logical or not?

Tuesday 5 November 2013

Nothing comes from nothing



Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good


Thanks to Maria from the Sound of Music!

The scales of justice should be firmly balanced but the scales that reflect my life are extremely out of kilter. The good things in my life far outweigh the bad. 


I have experienced the horror of losing a child just 6 weeks after losing my father – my guiding light. 

I have experienced monetary problems. (Who hasn't? even the wealthiest think they have problems.)

BUT

My family has always had a roof over our heads. We never went to bed hungry. I was always able to get to my place of work and the children were always able to get to school. I gave them every advantage that I could. So all in all I was lucky (or blessed).

Lately I have made contact with several of my ex pupils. Some of them via Facebook, where we share the daily funnies or events of our lives. I am always amazed at the little things that link us together. I have developed mature relationships with some of them. I want to talk about some of these.

  • First there is Alan who lives in Australia now. A few months ago we went out to dinner and had a whale of a time! Alan re-introduced me to:
  • Manuela – a gifted artist (she will bomb me for that! She thinks she is an illustrator!) who has done the illustrations for my books. We have become firm on-line friends and will each give the other a kick in the pants if needed. Her fascinating book Guilty Pleasures… is soon to be launched. As she stays in Lisbon we have a long distance relationship (Thank you FB and e-mails!)
  • Sharleen – we are both ardent fans – she admires my writing and I admire her photos! A mutual admiration society if ever there was one! This is another long distance relationship.
  •  Ian – full of nonsense – always good for a laugh or a quick come back! And his wife Claire – I have never met you but we get on well on line!
  •  Kyle – I met him for tea just yesterday. He was one of my first dancing pupils and was extremely talented particularly as a Latin dancer. I also introduced him to computer programming and web development when he took the IT course at school. How proud am I? He is earning (in his words) a salary that he had only dreamt of and he is still dancing and competing!
A few weeks ago I was approached by one of the kids who gave me untold problems in the classroom. He approached with the words. "I really want to apologise for the hard times I gave you. I now realise that you could have taught me a lot!" – prized words for any teacher!

My family and friends you add so much dimension to my life – thank you!

When I look at the scale – the only bad thing that is out of whack is the struggle to keep body and soul intact as the cost of living increases – but we are all party to that! So all in all I have a great life and I say again…

So somewhere in my youth or childhood

I must have done something good.

Sunday 3 November 2013

Closing doors



As we travel through the corridors of life we are faced with many doors. We choose which doors to open and which to ignore.

Let us follow Barry and see what he does with the doors on his route through life. Probably the first door that Barry became aware of was the door to his parent's room. As he grew older they felt that the time had come to stop the free entry into their domain. Barry now had to knock. Sometimes he was allowed in, sometimes he was met by his father who opened the door a crack and would not allow him to even glance inside before being sent on his way. And sometimes he got a resounding "NO!"

So Barry soon began to realise that a door, although a physical thing, separated him from the mystery on the other side both physically and mentally.

As Barry grew up he became aware of many doors lining his passage through life. The doors all had different appearances. Some were dull and dreary and seemed to offer no promise of fun or possessions on the other side. Barry ignored these doors and sought for something better.

Once while out with friends he came across a door that appeared to be made of opaque blue glass. It intrigued him. He turned the handle but it wouldn't budge. So he knocked at the door. A pair of thin lady's arms encased in long sea green gloves appeared through narrow opening. They reached for his tie and dragged him in. He felt like a rodent slithering through the narrow opening. After what seemed hours the doors erupted open and he stumbled out into the passageway again. He was as white as a sheet, his clothes were in disarray and friends did not know what had caused it and he would never talk about it. The strange thing was a dark mark appeared below his hairline and above his right eye. He tried to wash it off but it remained. It became a permanent mark of his time behind that door.

So some doors are dangerous and others are innocuous. With experience Barry soon began to tell if the door was safe. But still there some mistakes along the way.

He learnt that he could open a door for a quick glimpse inside. He may decide to enter and stay, or he may choose to close the door and move on or he may be shooed out because that door is not for him.

He also learnt that if he chose to enter a door it was never a permanent decision.

When he decided to leave a room it could be for many reasons. Sometimes he would leave the room, close the door but not lock it. It is almost as if he was hoping to come back. I hope he didn't go back because time changes everything and everyone and what satisfied him before may no longer please him.
 
Once he occupied the space behind the door for a long time. Many things happened to him here but suddenly he left the space leading one child, a toddler, by the hand and carrying the other, a mere baby. He fumbled for the key to the door, locked it and threw the key as far from him as he could.

Saturday 2 November 2013

2013 Thisability Deep Expo



Last night I received an invitation to participate in the 2013 Thisability Deep Expo to be held on the 2nd and 3rd of December to be held in the Durban City Hall. 

This Expo is the brain child of Musa Zulu, an author, an artist and a motivational speaker who has turned his disability following an accident into an ability. I heard him speak at the annual speech night held at New Forest High School. I took my courage in my hands to approach this humble man. He is as quietly inspirational face to face as he is on the stage. He accepted my (cheeky) invitation to my book launch.

Those of you who read my posts know that the time I spent at Durban's Open Air School was a life changing experience which lead to me completing my novella, "Full Circle" (to be launched towards the end of this month at Exclusive Books Westville). This novella will be displayed (together with my other books and material from my publisher) at the expo.

The purpose of the expo is to open doors for those citizens who have had to overcome physical obstacles just as Musa had to do. There is a mine of talent out there, Musa is helping to pave the way.


I am very excited to be included in the expo and can't wait to report back in this blog!

To learn more about Musa and his initiatives please visit his web site:
 

Friday 1 November 2013

Extract from "Easter's Fairy Adventure"



They found a nice place to sit under a tree. They spread the blanket on the grass, had something cool to drink and then set off to explore. 

Della held Easter so that he could see all the exciting things around him.

This enchanted garden had all the famous fairies from all the storybooks.

The fairies were very still during the day because fairies are not really allowed to move when people are around.

It was very different after sunset though.

As the sun disappears he blows a goodnight kiss. This goodnight kiss helps us to go to sleep but it wakes the fairies up. 


Soon it was lunch time. Della, Mummy, Daddy and Easter went back to the blanket.

The picnic basket was unpacked. There were chicken nuggets, crisps and fruit and lots of other nice things.

Right at the end of lunch Mummy gave Della her favourite sweet, a marshmallow fish.

It was lovely and warm under the tree and Della began to feel a bit drowsy.

Mummy and Daddy were talking softly. It was so quiet and peaceful.

Della could hear the birds calling to each other as they flew from tree to tree.

Slowly her eyes began to close.


Easter was sitting next to the picnic basket looking out at the fields in the distance feeling a bit bored. He wanted to play but Della was fast asleep.
 

Suddenly two bunnies hopped out from behind the tree. They sat looking at Easter, wiggling their noses at him.

They wondered if they should ask him to come and play in the fields. 

The wonderful Illustrations are by Manuela Cardiga.

Available at:

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/254380

Amazon  - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ASDEMKS



 

 


Thursday 31 October 2013

An ode to teachers across the world.



Most teachers have entered or will soon enter the "marking phase".

Sang to the tune of "Ol' man River"(and apologies to the original)

This ole lady Vera
That ole teacher Vera
She does know something
But kids know nothing
The marking keeps coming,
it keeps on rolling along

The red stripes fly
across the kids work
The kids get Bad marks
Which are soon forgotten
But ole teacher Vera
She just keeps marking all night

You and me, we keep on marking
'Cos everyone's waiting for those ma-arks!

Lift that bag,
take the work
Can’t take a little break
To land in dreamland

Ah gets weary
Am sick of red pens
I’m tired of marking
The kids are waiting,
the head is waiting
for marks to come rolling along

Wednesday 30 October 2013

I am South African



I am proud to be South African
I am sad to be South African.
I am weak
I cannot change your attitude to me
I am South African.

I was born in the apartheid era.
I did not ask to be part of it.
I hated it.
I wanted South Africa to be free.
I am South African.

The colour of my skin defines me
I want to stand with pride
I cannot –
My skin decides who should be my friend
I am South African

People say that Apartheid has gone
I look around and I ask
But has it?
The people around me cling to their kind
Sadly I am South African

I appreciate the power of the intellect
Madiba I look up to you
Bring back Logic.
My mind, my thoughts, my intellect
Make me South African

Madiba where is your dream for us?
Where is the Rainbow nation?
The country rebels
Madiba lay your peace around us
Help me be South African

Dissatisfaction is all around us
Black, brown, white Unite
Work together
to bring about the change that is needed.
I am a South African…


But my skin is white

 I have just listened to SA news tonight:

  • A schoolboy has been killed at school by other school boys.
  • People in Cape Town (our Mother City) rioting in the streets - smashing windows and people - some of the women were worse than the men.
  • More corruption in the Government and the police.

Can we survive?

 




Tuesday 29 October 2013

The Dancing Dream



I was destined to have a body capable of dancing. Because of this I was given a very huge challenge in life. I would never have a ballerina’s body – my inherited body type was wrong. I was short and well built and the more I danced the more my legs developed. I was the butt of jokes with some family members which led to a poor body image. I rebelled over a very silly thing in ballet – I was one exam away from being able to train as a teacher but left never to return.
The music was in my blood however, I played musical instruments and enjoyed dancing at parties. I wanted to learn ballroom and Latin and again proved talented but again rebelled when I couldn’t dance competitively with my best friend who was my partner of choice. I think he also gave up at that time. When I got married my husband had only one interest in life and it was not dancing – it was boozing -I didn’t beat him or join him. After the divorce I pined to start dancing again and tried out a few socials but I was too shy to mix with people so pulled out.
I met a guy, had a relationship and he also was not interested in dancing when that broke up I lost weight and started dancing in earnest and have now started teaching ballroom and Latin dancing.
This favourite thing makes me very happy!!!!!
My partner is my best friend – the first to celebrate and the first to commiserate. Extremely supportive of me. We have fun together and share a love of opera – I like Rom Coms he likes Sci-Fi. We like intelligent cop programs, we love mystical series and a good old fashioned musical speaks to our heart!
I have met some absolutely great people at dancing. The not so nice ones either become better or drift away. My life would be empty without my dance friends. When I need it I am surrounded by a cocoon of comfort. When I need it I get spoken to like a Dutch uncle. Our classes are filled with love, fun, frustration and support! My teacher and Mentor believes that we gather the people in as we need them and they need us to further our plan in life.
My dancing lessons give me exercise, peace and well being. If I start a lesson feeling down, I soon spark up!
Since starting to dance I have become more spiritual.

Friday 25 October 2013

Open Air School prize giving



Today I attended the prize giving at the Open Air School. For those who do not know the school it is an LSEN (Learners with Special Needs) school. The special needs are all physically related and it was wonderful to see how little they allow their physical problem to impact their life. The school motto is "I can and I will." A motto that the learners take to heart. Last year I taught there for four weeks after being severely traumatised by a gang of pupils in a so called "normal" school. The teachers had a running battle with a lot of the children who were in Grade 8 (Std 6) and Grade 9 (Std 7). These pupils (South Africa declares they must be called learners however that implies that they take some responsibility for their school work. This was not done.) Teachers have to battle with violence in the class (I had a near strangulation take place) total lack of work ethic and jeering at any pupil who did try to co-operate or who was different in any way. They did not care what you, the teacher had to offer – you were not wanted. Only the young sexy teachers were tolerated but their ears frequently burned with the sexual innuendos muttered in their presence. Once they reached Grade 10 (Std 8) a semblance of normality became a bit wider spread but there were still problems and these problems were bigger because the kids were bigger.
So now back to the Open Air School. In my four weeks they took me in and very soon realised that I had a lot to offer them. They co-operated, they learnt, they chatted, they flooded the room during break time. These children who have such physical problems – problems I cannot even imagine – worked cheerfully. Their sense of humour was finely tuned, they laughed together. They did not laugh at one another – they laughed with each other. A more able bodied learner would always help those who were having difficulty in some way. The blind were helped along by the sighted, the wheelchairs were wheeled by the hard of hearing. In the classroom the sight challenged would be helped by the amputee. The deaf child would watch the teachers lips and get help from neighbouring children. They CARE for each other. No child was considered strange or inferior to their class mates. They met on equal footing of being somewhat out of the ordinary – not special – their disability became abilities to do things in a different way – helping each other find the right way for them. This almost makes them sound angelic. They were in a way! But they could be as mischievous as little devils if they wished. The big thing is – I never saw malice. I visit there frequently as I do their web site and the kids still remember me and greet me with HUGE smiles and waves. They are polite and friendly – not familiar. I count myself blessed to have had even just a short time with them.
Today: The tears were hovering in the corner of my eyes too frequently. I wasn't sad. I was touched. Admiration streamed forth as child after child took their place in the line to get their prizes. Some were led due to sight impairments; Some were helped in their wheelchairs; Some walked clumsily on their crutches; some dragged useless limbs behind them as they walked to get their prize. One young boy lurched across the stage to receive a trophy that was bigger than him. His unstable hands battled to take hold of it. All the while a beautiful smile lit up his face. He never stopped smiling. He also got the most prestigious trophy for the child who helped others, was always cheerful and would go out of his way to be pleasant and nice to others. I am afraid the tears trickled a little further out of my eyes. And then the was the choir. These angelic voiced children sang 3 songs. The Prayer nearly dissolved me into tears. The school song is also very moving.
Thank you for a beautiful experience. I can't wait to receive all the information and photos that I need for your web site. www.openairschool.co.za
Open Air School thank you for making me humble – tonight I can really thank God for His blessings.
These children helped inspire my book which is being launched on 27th November – "Full Circle"