How it all began!

Education. It is one of the most important things in my life, both my personal life and professional. I believe learning and institutions that support learning are key to a rich and accepting society where prejudice and bigotry are counteracted by critical thought, where people don't 'tolerate' what they think they understand, but they accept difference by knowing and understanding and appreciating the diverse and wonderful uniqueness of people everywhere.

Starting at the beginning, my education began in a preschool 15 minutes from the small coastal town where I grew up. There was only one preschool available to families in the area and I am sure it began the positive associations I have with educational institutions. I spent several years as a three and four year old making bubble paintings, trying to secretly add water to the orange bowl of sand in the sandpit so it could be stirred like cake mix, trying desperately not to make a sound when eating my cheese and peels of carrot sandwiches at lunch, telling the teachers that I was not crying when my mother was leaving, but in fact the sun had melted my eyes. The smells and experience of walking over the bridge as my mother walked me in, the apprehension and anxiety that I felt on the way to preschool are so deeply embedded in my sense of self that I am more aware than ever of how important early experiences are.

My primary school years, all 7 of them, were spent at North Haven Public. This small school now bears very little resemblance to the school I attended, perhaps this was in my mother's mind when she enrolled me in 1989 as she had attended the school a few decades before. I recall a few pertinent moments from these years - chucking a tantrum in kindergarten and throwing a bead at someone else's mother, doing contract work on the novel, 'The Secret of Nimh' in composite class in Year 5/6, lying on the floor doing muscle relaxation, attempting to conjure spirits with an Ouija board drawn on a piece of paper (I chickened out), the Gumnut Club my friend created, making tracks in the leaf litter to run around in under the camphor laurel trees, bin cricket, saying the Lord's prayer in Year 6, making weird art sculptures, the book sales (how I loved the book sales - I would pour over the pamphlets for weeks making selections), lettering, the new classrooms with the computers with black screens and orange and green writing, trays, the bell and then the new electric bell, the blue covering and then the aluminium covering over the quad, the handball courts, the paperbarks, not knowing the word 'cupboard' until the teacher said it out loud, my 'ET' book (Every Thing) with white paper and a pattered of coloured pencils. The teachers - Mrs Moore, Mrs Easy, Mrs Eggins, Mrs Knightly, Mrs Gavigan, Mr Jordan, Mrs Vincent and Mr Vincent, Mr Ballasty, Mrs Ryan. Memories. So many. 

Primary school encouraged my love of reading, as did my parents, especially my mother and grandmother. Visits to the library, books for presents. There was always something to read in our house - encyclopaedias, a book about apparent ghost and alien spottings that intrigued and frightened the hell out of me. 'Baby Sitter's Club', 'Sweet Valley High', my brother's 'Goosebumps' books, Robin Klein, Roald Dahl (I read my first Dahl book, 'The Witches' whilst sick with pleurisy in Year 3), Enid Blyton - oh how I wanted to visit the magic faraway tree. My love of literature was fostered by the adults around me and my hunger for stories and for this I feel very lucky.