Another lazy post: an article I wrote for post.
As I was nervously anticipating the commencement of my assignment, one common piece of advice was consistent amongst the other volunteers who had returned from Fiji. This advice was loud and clear: take a back seat, get to know your colleagues, take time to talk to them and don’t enter the workplace with all guns blazing. Be prepared to do “nothing” for the first 3 months. Being a person who possesses an inability to sit still, I knew I would find this incredibly challenging. So I readied myself to move slowly, reserve all judgements and decisions and welcome a slower pace with open arms – essentially doing “nothing”. However, doing “nothing” didn’t prepare me for my first day at school.
I was cruising for the first 2 hours. I sat myself at the back of one of the classrooms and observed. I said “nothing” and I did “nothing”. I think I was getting used to the idea that I really could handle this “nothing” concept. Little did I know that “nothing” doesn’t quite apply in the busy hive of activity at Hilton Special School.
Recess arrived and I noticed the teachers rushing for their daily serve of morning tea. The teachers cautiously stepped around me with mumbled “tulou, tulou”s and eagerly reached over for their lemon leaf tea with one hand while performing a balancing act with a generous pile of bara and fried taro in the other hand. One of the teachers pulled me into sit next to them and pointed furiously at her food and edged closer to me. Keen to try local snacks and attempting to be polite and interested, I asked “and what is this we’re eating? It smells lovely!”. As I was mid-sentence, the teacher turned away and ignored me completely! I leant over gently and enquired again: “Sorry, excuse me. Um…” She still had her back turned to me. I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned to the friendly face of the assistant head teacher. “My dear, Teacher Leona cannot hear you, she is Deaf.” And with a sudden loud smack onto the tea room table which made me jump high enough to send me catapulting over the school’s fence and into Suva harbour, the assistant head teacher had successfully gained Teacher Leona’s attention and interpreted my question in Fiji Sign Language.
Before I could even find out the answer to my question, my counterpart, Linda, had approached and had a student and his mother behind him. “Yadra, Amanda. This is J – you can do something for him now?” I peered around Linda to get a better look at the student. Before me stood a large boy breathing heavily, clapping his hands and looking blankly into the distance. Having no knowledge about the child or without any briefing, I was ushered into a classroom and watched as the child’s mother pulled him onto a chair. Following in after us was Lauren, the Speech Pathologist who was also on assignment at Hilton Special School. “Ladies, you can tell us something we can do for J?”. With a bewildered look over at Lauren, both of us were now expected to do something to help this child. The idea of “nothing” was slowly fading. J’s mother and his teacher weren’t going to be satisfied with vague solutions to addressing her son’s needs, so Lauren and I did our best to offer only basic advice and stressed the importance of further assessment.
The bell for the completion of recess rang and after questioning J’s mother and performing basic assessments, I excused myself to return to another class to attempt to return to doing “nothing” at the back of the class. I was hoping to get used to the idea of doing “nothing”. It was comfortable and safe concept in a foreign country where I only had a patchy idea about its culture and customs. Once again, “nothing” was not to be as another teacher was beckoning me from the doorway of the classroom that I had nestled myself into.
“Kerekere, Amanda – I need some activities for my class, can you suggest some activities for me?” The Transition teacher had appeared at the classroom entrance and I was promptly ushered into the Transition class where the children with the highest support needs had their classes. From my first glance, this was a class for children who had major mobility and physical concerns. Half the class could not walk independently and most had issues with muscle control in their hands and a small proportion had global intellectual delays. From this moment, “nothing” was thrown out the window and over the fence into the banana-plant and ivy covered cliff that Hilton Special School sits on.
Since then, it has been non-stop assessments and activities with students, a constant barrage of writing wish-lists and recommendation reports to improve student’s mobility needs, a battle to maintain a hydrotherapy pool and keep inquisitive students from entering without my knowledge, juggling a large shipment of donated equipment and assisting students and teachers in their classroom environment.
I’ve grown so close to Hilton Special School and the children are endearing and call out my name in sing-song voices as I pass their classrooms at the school. I’m no longer lost in translation with Fiji Sign Language gradually de-mystifying itself through repetition and practice with the hearing impaired students. Most importantly, I’ve grown to know the school inside-out, including its overhead roof-cum-storage area space which is accessed somewhat precariously by a wobbly ladder. The mothers, aunties, teachers and students have become like an extended family. In Fiji, I’ve learnt that you drop everything for family and doing “nothing” would never be an option for my Hilton Special School family.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
THE DEVIL WEARS SOCKS WITH THONGS
Another lazy post - an email I wrote to Lauren (the speech pathologist who was working with me) who has since returned to Australia. I was just filling her in on a few recent events:
Dear Lauren,
This story is so amazingly funny that I have to share it with you and I am killing two birds with one stone by dictacting this email to Melina as we speak.
So Mrs P was away from school for two days last week. She was sick at home with fevers (what's new eh?). She returned to school today and was telling L that she had fevers and was posessed by a demon. She reported that this demon was in fact, her mother, and that her mother was haunting/possessing her. Mrs P said that her mother died when she was 4 so now she is coming back to haunt her. She said that when her cousin/sister/some relative that we won't actually know the exact detgails of because tha'ts what happens in Fiji... came to visit her over the weekend, she coughed really badly in front of him/her and the devil jumped from Mrs P to her family relation.
She also told L that while she was in her room which she swears that she had locked, had opened up mysteriously by itself, letting in a cool and creepy breeze. She also was coughing a lot today and told L that she had gastric/gastritis while pointing to her chest.
The end. You're missing out on a lot.
-Amanda
Dear Lauren,
This story is so amazingly funny that I have to share it with you and I am killing two birds with one stone by dictacting this email to Melina as we speak.
So Mrs P was away from school for two days last week. She was sick at home with fevers (what's new eh?). She returned to school today and was telling L that she had fevers and was posessed by a demon. She reported that this demon was in fact, her mother, and that her mother was haunting/possessing her. Mrs P said that her mother died when she was 4 so now she is coming back to haunt her. She said that when her cousin/sister/some relative that we won't actually know the exact detgails of because tha'ts what happens in Fiji... came to visit her over the weekend, she coughed really badly in front of him/her and the devil jumped from Mrs P to her family relation.
She also told L that while she was in her room which she swears that she had locked, had opened up mysteriously by itself, letting in a cool and creepy breeze. She also was coughing a lot today and told L that she had gastric/gastritis while pointing to her chest.
The end. You're missing out on a lot.
-Amanda
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
A LETTER
Oops. Looks like I've neglected this blog a bit. Mum won't be happy. A very interesting event happened the other day. I like to respect other professions that are seemingly similar but completely different to mine, but sometimes...you need to know your limitations.
To other healthcare professionals reading this, PLEASE:
Don't step outside your scope of practice (double standards, I know, but I don't think being a stand-in teacher is going to harm anyone). Don't think you have the answers to everything. Know what you don't know and admit when you've actually got no freakin' idea. And for crying out loud, DO NOT think or profess that you can cure the children at HSS!!! I have just lost a bit more respect for a certain healthcare profession.
I wrote to my surrogate mentor:
Dear H,
I thought I'd share this story with you. I nearly fainted watching this unfold and I'm not entirely sure why I didn't do anything to intervene. I think I was frozen from shock of the following events:
The background: we have a child with myelodysplasia who is non-ambulant, continent and one of our bright students at school. He's got extremely weak quads, and semi weak hip flexors and extensors. He stands with two people assisting (against no-lift policy in absence of a hoist) and can take 3 steps at his very very best, that is, if his knees don't give way. He's rather overweight and we've been plodding along nicely with diet assistance from a Dietician I befriended at the P hospital and has been doing hydro and daily sessions of weight-bearing exercise (mainly sit-stand, mini-squats, weight-shift/"dancing") and a once weekly extended session for floor-based therapy.
His mother approached me last week and asked if I could attend a specialist spinal Physiotherapist assessment of her son. I asked what kind of specialist this person was, but mum could only tell me that she was from the United States and has had very good results with children with s.b. Being used to the vague Fijian way of explaining things, I knew that more questions would just frustrate mum even further and probably wouldn't get me far anyway. I think I was being skeptical from the start, but I thought there wouldn't be any harm in getting a second opinion from a colleague. I also thought that mum had gotten confused and heard the word "spine" on the radio and "expert" and therefore thought this therapist could help her son, without knowing that the advertisement was probably directed at people with back pain.
So I said yes, of course I'd be happy to attend the clinic, except I thought it was a bit strange that the parents had to pay for this service. Usually overseas assistance comes without a fee as it is provided out of the generousity of overseas-trained staff. Having no idea what I was in for, I soon realised that we were about to see a chiropractor.
We were ushered into a small consultation room where our student was lifted onto the treatment plinth by dad. She was more interested in the therapy I had been doing with the student rather than the reports and scans we'd given her. She proceeded to poke at his back and bend his legs telling the parents that his pelvis was out of alignment because his legs crossed when she bent them. At this point, I was happy with the poking and prodding. All of a sudden, she was poised over him in what i remember as a screw-manip over the thoracic spine at uni. Before I knew it, without finding out more about his condition, without looking at any x-rays or CT scans, crack goes the spine and thump thump thump goes my heart.
After this, she asks my student to see if he can get up and try to take a few steps and walk. So he awkwardly turns over with assitance from Dad stands up, his knees collapse again and he's back to being on the floor. Sorry, but your magic crackin' is not happenin'.
I've since explained to mum about what myelodysplasia involves and how manipulating the spine is both dangerous and is not the most functional-based treatment her son could be receiving. I'm pretty sure that spinal manipulation will not make her son gain strength and may actually be harmful. We're realistic about expectations on his progress and agree that maintenance is far more important than gaining function at the moment.
I've advised mum and dad not to continue with the chiropractor. My gut feeling is that this child's spine shouldn't be manipulated and probably won't help his condition. They want to go back one more time, but do you have any stronger advice? Apparently the chiropractor says she's treated non-wheelchair dependent children with his condition before and has had success.... hmm.
I try so hard to respect other professions, but this makes it really, really, really difficult...
To other healthcare professionals reading this, PLEASE:
Don't step outside your scope of practice (double standards, I know, but I don't think being a stand-in teacher is going to harm anyone). Don't think you have the answers to everything. Know what you don't know and admit when you've actually got no freakin' idea. And for crying out loud, DO NOT think or profess that you can cure the children at HSS!!! I have just lost a bit more respect for a certain healthcare profession.
I wrote to my surrogate mentor:
Dear H,
I thought I'd share this story with you. I nearly fainted watching this unfold and I'm not entirely sure why I didn't do anything to intervene. I think I was frozen from shock of the following events:
The background: we have a child with myelodysplasia who is non-ambulant, continent and one of our bright students at school. He's got extremely weak quads, and semi weak hip flexors and extensors. He stands with two people assisting (against no-lift policy in absence of a hoist) and can take 3 steps at his very very best, that is, if his knees don't give way. He's rather overweight and we've been plodding along nicely with diet assistance from a Dietician I befriended at the P hospital and has been doing hydro and daily sessions of weight-bearing exercise (mainly sit-stand, mini-squats, weight-shift/"dancing") and a once weekly extended session for floor-based therapy.
His mother approached me last week and asked if I could attend a specialist spinal Physiotherapist assessment of her son. I asked what kind of specialist this person was, but mum could only tell me that she was from the United States and has had very good results with children with s.b. Being used to the vague Fijian way of explaining things, I knew that more questions would just frustrate mum even further and probably wouldn't get me far anyway. I think I was being skeptical from the start, but I thought there wouldn't be any harm in getting a second opinion from a colleague. I also thought that mum had gotten confused and heard the word "spine" on the radio and "expert" and therefore thought this therapist could help her son, without knowing that the advertisement was probably directed at people with back pain.
So I said yes, of course I'd be happy to attend the clinic, except I thought it was a bit strange that the parents had to pay for this service. Usually overseas assistance comes without a fee as it is provided out of the generousity of overseas-trained staff. Having no idea what I was in for, I soon realised that we were about to see a chiropractor.
We were ushered into a small consultation room where our student was lifted onto the treatment plinth by dad. She was more interested in the therapy I had been doing with the student rather than the reports and scans we'd given her. She proceeded to poke at his back and bend his legs telling the parents that his pelvis was out of alignment because his legs crossed when she bent them. At this point, I was happy with the poking and prodding. All of a sudden, she was poised over him in what i remember as a screw-manip over the thoracic spine at uni. Before I knew it, without finding out more about his condition, without looking at any x-rays or CT scans, crack goes the spine and thump thump thump goes my heart.
After this, she asks my student to see if he can get up and try to take a few steps and walk. So he awkwardly turns over with assitance from Dad stands up, his knees collapse again and he's back to being on the floor. Sorry, but your magic crackin' is not happenin'.
I've since explained to mum about what myelodysplasia involves and how manipulating the spine is both dangerous and is not the most functional-based treatment her son could be receiving. I'm pretty sure that spinal manipulation will not make her son gain strength and may actually be harmful. We're realistic about expectations on his progress and agree that maintenance is far more important than gaining function at the moment.
I've advised mum and dad not to continue with the chiropractor. My gut feeling is that this child's spine shouldn't be manipulated and probably won't help his condition. They want to go back one more time, but do you have any stronger advice? Apparently the chiropractor says she's treated non-wheelchair dependent children with his condition before and has had success.... hmm.
I try so hard to respect other professions, but this makes it really, really, really difficult...
Monday, May 9, 2011
TRIBUTE
A cloud of death surrounds my community at the moment. Loved ones have passed and feelings of grief and sorrow have ensued. I have reached out personally to those most affected, but only time can heal their souls. Words seem futile and can never equal the amount of sympathy you wish to convey towards those who have lost loved ones close to their hearts.
One of those who passed recently was a student at the school. Up until last year he had been attending sporadically. He'd have frequent seizures and was regularly sick with flu-like symptoms. His disability was undiagnosed. His awareness of the world was akin to a 1 months old baby. He would only walk towards light and his recognition of people was dubious. We'd know when he was at school because we'd hear him yelling at the top of his voice, or you'd hear his heavy, rattley breathing after walking down the corridor. In some respects, we feel deeply sorry for his mother and his little sister who is struggling to come to terms with her brother who won't wake up. In other respects, I feel that this world was too painful for him to live in. Perhaps he's in a happier, comfortable and understanding place.
It's at these times you remind yourself to let people know how much you love them. Perhaps it's the time you reflect and wonder if you're living your life, or just watching it float by. Do you start to fear regret and bad relationships? What if you're not given the chance to make amends?
Either way, I hope that those who have lost can gather strength from within to overcome the grief that they are facing.
I suppose it's only appropriate to end with a quote that's been quoted and re-quoted again: "Your life flashes before your eyes before you die - make sure it's worth watching."
One of those who passed recently was a student at the school. Up until last year he had been attending sporadically. He'd have frequent seizures and was regularly sick with flu-like symptoms. His disability was undiagnosed. His awareness of the world was akin to a 1 months old baby. He would only walk towards light and his recognition of people was dubious. We'd know when he was at school because we'd hear him yelling at the top of his voice, or you'd hear his heavy, rattley breathing after walking down the corridor. In some respects, we feel deeply sorry for his mother and his little sister who is struggling to come to terms with her brother who won't wake up. In other respects, I feel that this world was too painful for him to live in. Perhaps he's in a happier, comfortable and understanding place.
It's at these times you remind yourself to let people know how much you love them. Perhaps it's the time you reflect and wonder if you're living your life, or just watching it float by. Do you start to fear regret and bad relationships? What if you're not given the chance to make amends?
Either way, I hope that those who have lost can gather strength from within to overcome the grief that they are facing.
I suppose it's only appropriate to end with a quote that's been quoted and re-quoted again: "Your life flashes before your eyes before you die - make sure it's worth watching."
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
MY WARDROBE
Everyone in Fiji loves to wear brightly coloured, floral printed shirts, skirts and tops. I have cottoned on (chortle, chortle) to the fashion here and have had a few sulu/jabas made to get in touch with the Fijian culture.
Here's a picture of my week's washing (minus the disintegrating underwear):
I thought I'd better make the most of it because I'm not sure if I can get away with wearing such loud/bright colours back in black Melbourne. If I continue working with children, hopefully I can have a good excuse to be wearing these tops to work.
Here's a picture of my week's washing (minus the disintegrating underwear):
I thought I'd better make the most of it because I'm not sure if I can get away with wearing such loud/bright colours back in black Melbourne. If I continue working with children, hopefully I can have a good excuse to be wearing these tops to work.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
PROGRESS
Things are chugging along slowly at school. I have just over 3 and a half months left and my grand plan is to have most mini-projects finished in 3 weeks. This is for the sole purpose of being able to relax in my last term at school, monitor if my resources will get used and enjoying my time at school rather than stressing over things not being completed.
There's been lots happening and here's a few of the projects that I'm currently working on:
Making splints using the scraps of neoprene in our store room and inserting old spoons to act as a framework to set the wrist into a good position:
Making a stackload of worksheets that involve cutting, colouring, pasting and other general fine motor skills. This is me slightly extending my scope of practice where I've pushed at the boundary of being a Physio, stepped over the line into being an OT, ran a few more steps to the are titled: "teacher and curriculum development person". The children have a very limited amount of hands-on opportunities to cut, paste and interact with general classroom objects. Most lessons are spent being lectured by a teacher or copying off the blackboard. These ideas came to me when I was taking small groups for fine motor activities and then realised that I wasn't able to reach out to ALL the students who needed help. Then I realised that even some of the children in the Hearing Impaired department also needed opportunities for fine motor input to develop their language which then led to me taking classes to demonstrate to the teachers that interacting with paper, scissors, glue, peers and doing something other than copying off the board could actually have a myriad of learning opportunities, language development AND children with fine motor issues would get a chance at using their weak muscles during classroom activities. (Sorry, long sentence.) What was originaly basic therapy for the whole school has become a huge chunk of curriculum development.
So here's some beads made from brochures...
And some worksheets to learn about counting, houses, and shapes...
There's been lots happening and here's a few of the projects that I'm currently working on:
Making splints using the scraps of neoprene in our store room and inserting old spoons to act as a framework to set the wrist into a good position:
Making a stackload of worksheets that involve cutting, colouring, pasting and other general fine motor skills. This is me slightly extending my scope of practice where I've pushed at the boundary of being a Physio, stepped over the line into being an OT, ran a few more steps to the are titled: "teacher and curriculum development person". The children have a very limited amount of hands-on opportunities to cut, paste and interact with general classroom objects. Most lessons are spent being lectured by a teacher or copying off the blackboard. These ideas came to me when I was taking small groups for fine motor activities and then realised that I wasn't able to reach out to ALL the students who needed help. Then I realised that even some of the children in the Hearing Impaired department also needed opportunities for fine motor input to develop their language which then led to me taking classes to demonstrate to the teachers that interacting with paper, scissors, glue, peers and doing something other than copying off the board could actually have a myriad of learning opportunities, language development AND children with fine motor issues would get a chance at using their weak muscles during classroom activities. (Sorry, long sentence.) What was originaly basic therapy for the whole school has become a huge chunk of curriculum development.
So here's some beads made from brochures...
And some worksheets to learn about counting, houses, and shapes...
Saturday, April 2, 2011
CULTURE 101
This is a short one. I'm going to state the facts and the events without opinion or persomal commentary. Make up your own mind about what happened on Friday:
Friday's structure at school is "extra-curricular" activities. In the morning, the children have their "culture" lesson. After recess, the children have clubs and after lunch, they have gardening and sports.
During culture, the school is separated into "Fijian" and "Indo-Fijian" groups. The children in the "Indo-Fijian" group are of mainly Indian-Fijian decent and those who are in the "Fijian" group are all the other children who are Indigenous Fijian, Rotuman, Chinese, a fruit-salad of culture, but NOT Indo-Fijian. Those in the "Fijian" group learn about Fijian culture and those in the "Indo-Fijian" group learn about Indian-Fijian culture. So far, there has been no integration or cross-cultural learning during culture lesson times.
Last Friday, the children in the "Fijian" culture group went on an excursion to the museum. Opportunities to go on excursions are limited and so when an outing is actually organised and there are funds to venture out of school, there is much excitement and buzz about the school with regards to the upcoming excursion. An excursion is a special event in these children's school lives.
The Indo-Fijian children stayed at school while the Fijian children were given the chance to go out on an excursion to the museum. No excursion has been organised for the Indo-Fijian children at school.
I have my opinions about this situation, but will keep them to myself this time.
Friday's structure at school is "extra-curricular" activities. In the morning, the children have their "culture" lesson. After recess, the children have clubs and after lunch, they have gardening and sports.
During culture, the school is separated into "Fijian" and "Indo-Fijian" groups. The children in the "Indo-Fijian" group are of mainly Indian-Fijian decent and those who are in the "Fijian" group are all the other children who are Indigenous Fijian, Rotuman, Chinese, a fruit-salad of culture, but NOT Indo-Fijian. Those in the "Fijian" group learn about Fijian culture and those in the "Indo-Fijian" group learn about Indian-Fijian culture. So far, there has been no integration or cross-cultural learning during culture lesson times.
Last Friday, the children in the "Fijian" culture group went on an excursion to the museum. Opportunities to go on excursions are limited and so when an outing is actually organised and there are funds to venture out of school, there is much excitement and buzz about the school with regards to the upcoming excursion. An excursion is a special event in these children's school lives.
The Indo-Fijian children stayed at school while the Fijian children were given the chance to go out on an excursion to the museum. No excursion has been organised for the Indo-Fijian children at school.
I have my opinions about this situation, but will keep them to myself this time.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
RE-DIRECTION
The 8 month mark has passed now and there's 4 months left to go. School has been up and down and all around. As the teachers and staff gain more confidence in me, I've started to think of bigger and better things. However, things have become too big, out of my depth and unachievable in the little time that I have left. In this post, I'm continuing on my line of "not my profession, but I'll have a crack anyway". This time, I've been attempting to be a Music Therapist. For example, there's an extra-curricular group that does "Movement to Music". Unfortunately for most of the time, the children spend their time walking around to the same music CD every week. There's little structure and the goals of the class are very unclear. I am a Physiotherapist and therefore a movement specialist AND I love music so I'd be the right person to help this group along, right? Or so I thought... I LOVE music. I also happen to think that the Classical music genre is a powerful tool for children with disabilities. I haven't researched it, nor have I discussed this with a music therapist, but I'm sure I'd be somewhere on the right track. Naturally, I thought that the chidlren would also enjoy other types of music that wasn't raggae or samba beated, remixed top 20. I started to explore the idea of classical music after our psychological nightmare run-in (see http://mobilisedmanda.blogspot.com/2011/02/mothers-pain.html). Which, by the way, a big thank you to Sabura and Claire for their words of advice. Our little man is enjoying school A LOT more with positive experiences and activity redirection. My idea came to me when my housemate asked me to load some Classical music to help her get to sleep at night. She came back to me the next day saying it was exactly what she needed to calm down, relax and eventually fall asleep. I thought - why not compile a CD of Classical music for the children when they're having their rest time OR when a wave of anxiety was going through the classroom and Children were starting to misbehave. So away I went and burnt a CD of the same songs I had given my friend to help her sleep. I handed it over to the classroom teacher who, apart from being bored listening to it, felt rather sleepy after listening to it for 2 minutes. It was rather successful and has since been used for rest time at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. The children have been calm after lunch and have been enjoying their rest time. Now, back to the movement to music class. We'd recently had lectures from a linguist and teacher of the deaf about learning through stories. His main message was that children learn best through experience and that experience through a story made classroom activities more meaningful and motivating than teaching in discrete topics. Another idea floated into my mind - a story to music: Peter and the Wolf! For those who are not familiar with Peter and the Wolf, it's a story that's set to music. The story is about a boy who captures a wolf with the assistance of his animal friends and each animal is represented by a different instrument of the orchestra. Each section of narration is followed by about 45 seconds of instrumental music that reflects the storyline. It's at this point that I should let you know about the attention span of my colleagues at school. It is almost impossible to hold a conversation with the staff at school for one of two reasons - either you're interrupted rudely by another adult or child at the school or your conversation topic is too "kai-valagi" (western) to be interesting to maintain interest. Unless of course you're using an unprecedented amount of slap-stick humour, you're bound to lose interest in your audience very quickly. Undivided attention is a rare commodity at school. I find myself too often having a one-way conversation with a closed ear attached to a head of a colleague's head.
So I requested that the two teachers that took "movement to music" sit down with me during one lunch time and listen to the entire 20 minutes or so of Peter and the Wolf. I know, you're all shouting at me: "How is this culturally appropriate?", "Have YOU seen an orchestra in Fiji?", "ATTENTION SPAN!!", "Abstract ideas don't really work with this audience...", "You're professional boundary just ended about one kilometer behind us!!!!". However, I was so convinced that I had come up with a brilliant idea. Unfortunately, it was only 10 seconds into the musical section that the teachers started telling children off, picked up conversations with mothers that entered the room and looking away everytime a child ran past the room. By the end of it, I had realised how much of a bad idea this was when the teachers themselves where falling asleep at the end of the 20 minutes. What a "head-against-the-brick-wall" moment.
Yep. I should've seen it coming. How on earth could I EVER think that Peter and the Wolf could work in Fiji? I had visions of the children achieving gross motor goals while re-enacting different characters in the story and also incedently learning about instruments of the orchestra. I was so set with this idea that I was completely disheartened when it wasn't taken up with prompt enthusiasm. I think I had been yearning for some sort of approval or appreciation for my self-proclaimed awesome idea. How very wrong I was.
The lesson learnt from this whole fiasco is that I need to stick to my area of expertise. Stay with tried and true therapies that I know will work and focus on my assignment outcomes. Don't try to be someone I'm not. Don't try to offer professional advice and enhance a curriculum that I don't have the expertise to improve. I think the feeling of dejection was magnified by the fact that my efforts seem to have been going un-noticed recently that I was craving some sort of attention. I was so put-out that I was thinking "why o why am I even here at this school in the first place??!?" I just completely lost faith in what I was doing at the school that I decided to take a day off to redirect my thoughts and aims for my time here in Fiji. So there it is. The downer and the reality check. BUT it's not all bad news, for this story is "to be continued..."Monday, March 14, 2011
THE CRACKS ARE STARTING TO SHOW
Yep. The cracks are starting to show. Literally. Today, I arrived at school. I always arrive at school. But today was different. I was starting to lose motivation and had recurring instances of wanting to bash my head against a brick wall (more on that later). However, I woke up this morning and thought: "Right. I won't let annoying little things get to me and I won't be put off by teachers forgetting stuff that I'd told them over and over again. I'm going to push through and I'm going to focus on the little wins along the way". Little did I know that I would find this on my arrival to school:
A massive 3 metre long crack under the tiles in the middle of the therapy room floor. Something had happened to the floor of the therapy room that had made an entire row of tiles buckle.
It is so incredibly unmotivating to work in an environment like this. I was concerned that maybe this crack was the warning signs of an impending land slide. My counterpart joked that it was an earthquake and our therapy area just happened to be the epicentre. Great. Just brilliant. I'm very glad she was just joking.
Also, while I'm on the topic of really horrible OH&S issues, I'm pretty sure I've described a bit about the rat poo that we keep finding everywhere. Apart from eating my glue, they also seem to like dying in our hydrotherapy pool:
Again, another demotivating factor to remind you that your workplace environment is completely sub-standard and approaching a state of disrepair. It's really annoying to have to dust away the rat and mouse poo that finds itself on top of all of your equipment. I'm glad this one died but did it really have to die in the pool???
As for the bashing my head against a brick wall, I have been constantly teaching teachers how to teach handwriting. Again, it's not part of my qualification, but as the proxy school Occupational Therapist, I have been given the task of coordinating the roll out of the handwriting program. After harping on about ensuring that the children didn't write their letters too cramped, I found a teacher-made worksheet today that had an entire bunch of h's, n's, k's and m's squished in on one line.
So, I'm not going to focus on all the other little annoying things that have been a bit hard to deal with. I'll end it there. I hope you enjoyed the pictures!
A massive 3 metre long crack under the tiles in the middle of the therapy room floor. Something had happened to the floor of the therapy room that had made an entire row of tiles buckle.
It is so incredibly unmotivating to work in an environment like this. I was concerned that maybe this crack was the warning signs of an impending land slide. My counterpart joked that it was an earthquake and our therapy area just happened to be the epicentre. Great. Just brilliant. I'm very glad she was just joking.
Also, while I'm on the topic of really horrible OH&S issues, I'm pretty sure I've described a bit about the rat poo that we keep finding everywhere. Apart from eating my glue, they also seem to like dying in our hydrotherapy pool:
Again, another demotivating factor to remind you that your workplace environment is completely sub-standard and approaching a state of disrepair. It's really annoying to have to dust away the rat and mouse poo that finds itself on top of all of your equipment. I'm glad this one died but did it really have to die in the pool???
As for the bashing my head against a brick wall, I have been constantly teaching teachers how to teach handwriting. Again, it's not part of my qualification, but as the proxy school Occupational Therapist, I have been given the task of coordinating the roll out of the handwriting program. After harping on about ensuring that the children didn't write their letters too cramped, I found a teacher-made worksheet today that had an entire bunch of h's, n's, k's and m's squished in on one line.
So, I'm not going to focus on all the other little annoying things that have been a bit hard to deal with. I'll end it there. I hope you enjoyed the pictures!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
SIGNING AWAY THE LANGUAGE BARRIER
Last year, my housemates and I decided to tackle the Fijian Language. We took lessons each week for 12 weeks to learn how to speak Fijian. Unfortunately, our ability to pick up the language has been minimal. It's difficult to understand because when spoken, it sounds like an incredibly long sentence without pauses, breaks, articles or discreet words. It's hard to pick out nouns from verbs from articles. Additionally, one can get by very easily without speaking Fijian. It doesn't really have many advantages when you're out and about and everyone speaks some English anyway. There's also the other half of the population who speak Hindi and don't know a word of Fijian, so English becomes the common language in most situations.
At school the children speak English, albeit in a simplified, broken manner. This is mainly due to lack of exposure and intellectual impairment. For example, the other day one of the students asked me: "You have my change? I keep here then on Wednesday, I already bring. You keep for Friday sports?" which translates to: "Can you please keep my change of clothes with you until Friday? Then I don't have to bring another change of clothes for Friday sports."
It's not quite an English-as-a-second-language issue, as I've heard other children who are not enrolled at the school speak in sentences that are better formed than those of the students at our school.
So anyway, the point is, there is a mode of communication through English that is somewhat reliable at school and in the community.
However, this has not been the case for the hearing impaired children and teachers at our school. The ONLY means of communication so far has been through the school's sign language interpreter. I feel really bad that I haven't been able to communicate appropriately with the teachers and students at school. Even some of the teachers are still unable to communicate in sign language. This may be due to a number of different reasons, but my view is that out of respect to the entire school community, those working at the school MUST learn sign language.
That is what I've started to do in the past 2 weeks.
I've attempted to pick up as much as I can at school but the students sign REALLY quickly and at times they are inaccurate with their signs. Small nuances that make a huge difference in differentiating between signs such as "I", "my", "I'm" and "me". Being one of the teaching staff at school as well, I feel that it's appropriate to learn to increase the children's exposure to proper sign language. Therefore, there's been no excuse but to take myself along to the the Deaf Association twice a week to learn Fijian Sign Language. Apparently it's very similar to AusLAN but what the differences actually are, I'm not entirely sure.
One more thing - I've been trying to show the whole school that incorporating gross and fine motor skills into classwork to demonstrate concrete examples will enhance learning experiences. This includes the hearing impaired children because I believe that it's not only the "physically impaired" children that require maximised exposure to gross and fine motor skills. Again, I may be over-stepping my boundaries. Last week I wasn't a psychologist and this week, I'm definitely NOT a classroom teacher. However, I do feel that doing gross and fine motor activities, combined with instructions in signed and voiced language can't be doing much harm to the children.
At school the children speak English, albeit in a simplified, broken manner. This is mainly due to lack of exposure and intellectual impairment. For example, the other day one of the students asked me: "You have my change? I keep here then on Wednesday, I already bring. You keep for Friday sports?" which translates to: "Can you please keep my change of clothes with you until Friday? Then I don't have to bring another change of clothes for Friday sports."
It's not quite an English-as-a-second-language issue, as I've heard other children who are not enrolled at the school speak in sentences that are better formed than those of the students at our school.
So anyway, the point is, there is a mode of communication through English that is somewhat reliable at school and in the community.
However, this has not been the case for the hearing impaired children and teachers at our school. The ONLY means of communication so far has been through the school's sign language interpreter. I feel really bad that I haven't been able to communicate appropriately with the teachers and students at school. Even some of the teachers are still unable to communicate in sign language. This may be due to a number of different reasons, but my view is that out of respect to the entire school community, those working at the school MUST learn sign language.
That is what I've started to do in the past 2 weeks.
I've attempted to pick up as much as I can at school but the students sign REALLY quickly and at times they are inaccurate with their signs. Small nuances that make a huge difference in differentiating between signs such as "I", "my", "I'm" and "me". Being one of the teaching staff at school as well, I feel that it's appropriate to learn to increase the children's exposure to proper sign language. Therefore, there's been no excuse but to take myself along to the the Deaf Association twice a week to learn Fijian Sign Language. Apparently it's very similar to AusLAN but what the differences actually are, I'm not entirely sure.
One more thing - I've been trying to show the whole school that incorporating gross and fine motor skills into classwork to demonstrate concrete examples will enhance learning experiences. This includes the hearing impaired children because I believe that it's not only the "physically impaired" children that require maximised exposure to gross and fine motor skills. Again, I may be over-stepping my boundaries. Last week I wasn't a psychologist and this week, I'm definitely NOT a classroom teacher. However, I do feel that doing gross and fine motor activities, combined with instructions in signed and voiced language can't be doing much harm to the children.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
MOTHER'S PAIN
Today I experienced one of the longest 45 minutes I have ever had to endure. I sat outside a room with a mother, who had silent tears rolling down her cheeks while her son sat in a small room by himself crying, wailing and screaming.
We have a student who is 8 years old and has a complex disability including some cognitive impairment. He is now attending school regularly but he cried at the drop of the hat, especially if mum's not there. Mum is required to hang around school as there are no personal care attendants who work at the school. Additionally, it would be highly expensive to hire people for the children's most basic care needs.
The crying has become disruptive to the classroom environment. Due to his cognitive impairment, there is limited ability to reason with him to behave in the classroom. So instead, he cries and cries and cries. In the past, the solution has been for mum to be called in, pick him up and nurse him until he stops crying. Myself and the teachers at school have realised that this can't continue if he is to grow to be as independent as he can possibly be. So we decided to implement "time-out".
The plan was to lie the student down on the mat and wait until he stopped crying. Today, he cried as soon as mum left the room. He was crying because he either mum had left or he didn't particularly want to participate in the song that was being sung. We moved him quickly into our time-out space to let him cry. He cried, and cried and cried. We had left him with the door ajar and I could see him from my therapy room. Unfortunately, one of the other mothers at school saw him and called mum to go and pick him up.
This was the first time that mum had left her child to lie on the ground and cry on his own, alone in a room. She started to cry herself and it broke my heart to see her like this, let alone place a crying child in a room by himself. Some of the staff were being a bit insensitive to her and told her off for making her child like this. I couldn't stand how people were treating her, and though I had been stern with her myself a couple of days ago, I took her by the hand and told her that we would work through her child's crying together. I am not a psychologist or a counsellor but I don't think anyone else was even considering that she might've needed someone to talk to. I sat with her outside the room that her child was crying and explained why we were doing this.
To be honest, I really had no idea what I was doing. He didn't stop crying for an entire 45 minutes. He had a 45 second break in the middle of it, but the rest of the time, he cried, and cried and cried at the top of his lungs - I think I might be dreaming about his cries tonight.
So I'm not sure - I put it to anyone out there. What on earth should I do? Was 45 minutes along in a room staring at his mother's back too long? Do we keep persisting? Is this causing damage to this child's psychological state?
Here's me signing off and once again, stepping way out of my boundaries.
We have a student who is 8 years old and has a complex disability including some cognitive impairment. He is now attending school regularly but he cried at the drop of the hat, especially if mum's not there. Mum is required to hang around school as there are no personal care attendants who work at the school. Additionally, it would be highly expensive to hire people for the children's most basic care needs.
The crying has become disruptive to the classroom environment. Due to his cognitive impairment, there is limited ability to reason with him to behave in the classroom. So instead, he cries and cries and cries. In the past, the solution has been for mum to be called in, pick him up and nurse him until he stops crying. Myself and the teachers at school have realised that this can't continue if he is to grow to be as independent as he can possibly be. So we decided to implement "time-out".
The plan was to lie the student down on the mat and wait until he stopped crying. Today, he cried as soon as mum left the room. He was crying because he either mum had left or he didn't particularly want to participate in the song that was being sung. We moved him quickly into our time-out space to let him cry. He cried, and cried and cried. We had left him with the door ajar and I could see him from my therapy room. Unfortunately, one of the other mothers at school saw him and called mum to go and pick him up.
This was the first time that mum had left her child to lie on the ground and cry on his own, alone in a room. She started to cry herself and it broke my heart to see her like this, let alone place a crying child in a room by himself. Some of the staff were being a bit insensitive to her and told her off for making her child like this. I couldn't stand how people were treating her, and though I had been stern with her myself a couple of days ago, I took her by the hand and told her that we would work through her child's crying together. I am not a psychologist or a counsellor but I don't think anyone else was even considering that she might've needed someone to talk to. I sat with her outside the room that her child was crying and explained why we were doing this.
To be honest, I really had no idea what I was doing. He didn't stop crying for an entire 45 minutes. He had a 45 second break in the middle of it, but the rest of the time, he cried, and cried and cried at the top of his lungs - I think I might be dreaming about his cries tonight.
So I'm not sure - I put it to anyone out there. What on earth should I do? Was 45 minutes along in a room staring at his mother's back too long? Do we keep persisting? Is this causing damage to this child's psychological state?
Here's me signing off and once again, stepping way out of my boundaries.
Monday, February 14, 2011
VALENTINE'S DAY - FIJI STYLE
Yesterday was a combination of two days: Prophet Mohammed's Birthday and Valentine's day. Prophet Mohammed's birthday is significant enough to warrant a public holiday here in Fiji, but it's not big enough that it's in your face wherever you go. Valentine's day, on the other hand, receives radio advertisements, shop sales and tacky promotional gifts. It also gives an excuse for a once-a-year, only-in-Fiji, must-do-before-you-die experience. It is none other than this:
A candle-lit dinner at McDonald's restaurant complete with red table cloths, a-la-carte service and a complimentary ice-cream sundae to share with your lover. Even the waitresses are clothed in shiney red dresses for the occasion!
I requested a Happy Meal, but the waitress gave me a half-laugh/smirk of a condescending manner. Kind of like the cool kids at school who made you aware that you had said a lame joke that really wasn't worthy of their laughter. So I got a cheeseburger meal instead. I'm still unhappy that I didn't get a toy.
I don't usually "celebrate" valentine's day. However, this event held by the golden arches was one that could not be missed.
After this experience, I felt sick with love, and sick from being one step closer to heart disease. Thank you, Suva McDonald's!
Luke and Lauren share a romantic chip:
Gorgeous table decorations...
A candle-lit dinner at McDonald's restaurant complete with red table cloths, a-la-carte service and a complimentary ice-cream sundae to share with your lover. Even the waitresses are clothed in shiney red dresses for the occasion!
I requested a Happy Meal, but the waitress gave me a half-laugh/smirk of a condescending manner. Kind of like the cool kids at school who made you aware that you had said a lame joke that really wasn't worthy of their laughter. So I got a cheeseburger meal instead. I'm still unhappy that I didn't get a toy.
I don't usually "celebrate" valentine's day. However, this event held by the golden arches was one that could not be missed.
After this experience, I felt sick with love, and sick from being one step closer to heart disease. Thank you, Suva McDonald's!
Luke and Lauren share a romantic chip:
Gorgeous table decorations...
Thursday, February 10, 2011
STUDENT A
In the 6 months that I've been here now, I haven't really had thoughts of: "oh, those poor poor children" or "what sad cases there are at this school!". People have said to me that they couldn't do what I do because it would be too confronting to see these children everyday "struggling" and being those "unfortunate children". I've had so many labels of hopelessness attached to the children and have been told "what a great thing you're doing here, helping them get better."
Well I've got a different view: these children are LIVING and ENJOYING LIFE and LAUGHING and PLAYING and SOCIALISING. I come to school because I LOVE seeing all of these children PARTICIPATE and HAVING FUN. They're not "those poor children". You don't need to be a strong person if you see the ability, and not the disability. The children are happy, life-loving and similarly sporadically annoying as their non-impaired peers. I'm not a "blessed person" as someone once told me. I'm just doing my job.
Now don't take it the wrong way. It's not like I don't care about the children. I just don't see it as extra brownie points for social status, or taking a moral high-ground by working daily with these children. I rarely feel hopeless for the children.
Until today.
Student A is student A becuase he's one of the smartest in his class. He's enthusiastic, has a beautiful smile, he's really soft spoken and he tries so hard during his therapy. He's your typical A-Grade student. Student A also has a degenerative condition which won't be named in this blog post. I didn't know what his official diagnosis was because that information just wasn't available. Until now, I've been treating him a bit blindly based on the minimal information that I know and the vague information that I've been given by the staff at the school. Everyone seems to be under the impression that because I'm the resident "expert", I know EVERYTHING. It is for this reason that I don't get told much about the child because I am an "expert" and therefore know everything about the child just by looking at them. Yeah right.
Recently, we were sent a large bundle of medical reports by some visiting overseas doctors from one year previous. I found the report for Student A and discovered his official diagnosis. At first, this didn't mean much to me as my knowledge of the condition didn't reach very far. Being a good student myself, I looked it up when I got home. I was determined to understand the condition's ins and outs so I knew what I was dealing with. I felt that this would also allow me to answer Student A's mother's persistent questioning about whether her child will get better or what the future is like for him. I don't know...go ask a doctor.
Unfortunately, what I read was not what I wanted to hear. I saw the words "degenerative", "gradual decline with age", "gradual loss of mobility and function", "associated neural complications", "behavioural change". Lastly, I read: "child needs regular and consistent contact with neurologist to ensure child is appropriately managed". Where on earth am I going to find a neurologist when I only discovered TODAY that there are 10 paediatricians in Fiji...right across the road from the school!!!
The parent of the child also tends to avoid therapy and usually has brilliantly fabricated reasons as to why he can't attend. Either that or he just happens to be late every Thursday when he's been scheduled for his therapy. It doesn't help his cause. Overprotection, it seems, is exposure to danger.
Last year, he was walking. Now he needs to be hauled into a standing position from his wheelchair. Mum's not helping and his condition makes him fatter day by day. He's following the course of my text book and I don't like where it's headed. From here, according to my text book, it only gets worse.
Helplessness. Sorrow. It's overwhelming and I feel like breaking down in tears. What on earth am I doing to Student A that will really make a difference? My incomplete Allied Health team is starting to reveal its limitations and the lack of connection between the health system and the education system is starting to show its cracks.
All I know is to keep doing what I'm doing and attempt to make some sort of contact with the health system. Right now it just seems a bit too much, all because a text book case has materialised itself in the form of Student A.
Well I've got a different view: these children are LIVING and ENJOYING LIFE and LAUGHING and PLAYING and SOCIALISING. I come to school because I LOVE seeing all of these children PARTICIPATE and HAVING FUN. They're not "those poor children". You don't need to be a strong person if you see the ability, and not the disability. The children are happy, life-loving and similarly sporadically annoying as their non-impaired peers. I'm not a "blessed person" as someone once told me. I'm just doing my job.
Now don't take it the wrong way. It's not like I don't care about the children. I just don't see it as extra brownie points for social status, or taking a moral high-ground by working daily with these children. I rarely feel hopeless for the children.
Until today.
Student A is student A becuase he's one of the smartest in his class. He's enthusiastic, has a beautiful smile, he's really soft spoken and he tries so hard during his therapy. He's your typical A-Grade student. Student A also has a degenerative condition which won't be named in this blog post. I didn't know what his official diagnosis was because that information just wasn't available. Until now, I've been treating him a bit blindly based on the minimal information that I know and the vague information that I've been given by the staff at the school. Everyone seems to be under the impression that because I'm the resident "expert", I know EVERYTHING. It is for this reason that I don't get told much about the child because I am an "expert" and therefore know everything about the child just by looking at them. Yeah right.
Recently, we were sent a large bundle of medical reports by some visiting overseas doctors from one year previous. I found the report for Student A and discovered his official diagnosis. At first, this didn't mean much to me as my knowledge of the condition didn't reach very far. Being a good student myself, I looked it up when I got home. I was determined to understand the condition's ins and outs so I knew what I was dealing with. I felt that this would also allow me to answer Student A's mother's persistent questioning about whether her child will get better or what the future is like for him. I don't know...go ask a doctor.
Unfortunately, what I read was not what I wanted to hear. I saw the words "degenerative", "gradual decline with age", "gradual loss of mobility and function", "associated neural complications", "behavioural change". Lastly, I read: "child needs regular and consistent contact with neurologist to ensure child is appropriately managed". Where on earth am I going to find a neurologist when I only discovered TODAY that there are 10 paediatricians in Fiji...right across the road from the school!!!
The parent of the child also tends to avoid therapy and usually has brilliantly fabricated reasons as to why he can't attend. Either that or he just happens to be late every Thursday when he's been scheduled for his therapy. It doesn't help his cause. Overprotection, it seems, is exposure to danger.
Last year, he was walking. Now he needs to be hauled into a standing position from his wheelchair. Mum's not helping and his condition makes him fatter day by day. He's following the course of my text book and I don't like where it's headed. From here, according to my text book, it only gets worse.
Helplessness. Sorrow. It's overwhelming and I feel like breaking down in tears. What on earth am I doing to Student A that will really make a difference? My incomplete Allied Health team is starting to reveal its limitations and the lack of connection between the health system and the education system is starting to show its cracks.
All I know is to keep doing what I'm doing and attempt to make some sort of contact with the health system. Right now it just seems a bit too much, all because a text book case has materialised itself in the form of Student A.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A NEW SCHOOL YEAR
2011 and a new school year has commenced. I started back at school 3 weeks ago. I thought I’d visit the school on the holidays to get myself back into the swing of things. I needed something to re-spark my motivation after such a long break away from being at school. As I walked into the school grounds, I wished the school secretary, cleaner and Head Teacher a Happy New Year and proceeded to my therapy room.
What a mess it was.
There was old furniture stacked in the middle, a bench across the room, my ankle-foot orthoses strewn across another section of floor and papers that weren’t mine scattered across our desk. My cigarette lighter for my mosquito coil had grown legs and disappeared and the pen that I had tied to the desk and mummified in sticky-taped had been skilfully de-stick-taped and had gone to another home. That pen obviously did not want to be shackled to my desk and there was someone out there who had a better use for it.
However, this was not the worst of what I had walked into.
In the cupboard where I had stored all of my therapy equipment had been infested by rodents and had rat poo ALL. OVER. EVERYTHING. They’d even managed to bite through a container of drinking chocolate powder and leave bits of rat-bite-sized plastic lid everywhere. Quicker than you could say “rat poo!” I had snapped on a pair of gloves and was madly cleaning out the store room with the strongest cleaning fluid that Suva had to offer.
Linda, my counterpart, came to school the next day and we decided to attack the cupboard. For too long, the school has managed to accumulate a lot of useless, broken, musty-smelling and old equipment. There was also a pile of equipment in plastic wrap that had been sitting in a separate store room for a year. I suggested to Linda that we open it, clean off the rat poo and determine if it was in good enough condition to be used. What we found was a gold mine!
We found fantastic supportive seating and a large wheelchair pram. We also found things that were of little help like ancient looking foot braces which looked like they’d been worn by Forrest Gump and other bits of incomplete broken equipment. We also visited the school’s hostel which also had a pile of equipment in plastic wrap that wasn’t being used. We raided that and found more supportive seating, wheelchairs, suspension walkers and one really small saddle walker. It was like Christmas all over again!
Since then, the school has taken a turn for the better. The Head Teacher has been inspired to shake up the school’s curriculum. She said that if she walks, her staff will crawl. If she runs, they will walk and if she takes flight, they will run. We’ve been having extensive meetings with the aim of improving the curriculum and making Hilton Special School the best that it can possibly be.
So anyway, that is how the start of the school year has panned out: productive, innovative and leaping forwards with a view to be the leaders of special education. I hope that this is a preview of things to come!
What a mess it was.
There was old furniture stacked in the middle, a bench across the room, my ankle-foot orthoses strewn across another section of floor and papers that weren’t mine scattered across our desk. My cigarette lighter for my mosquito coil had grown legs and disappeared and the pen that I had tied to the desk and mummified in sticky-taped had been skilfully de-stick-taped and had gone to another home. That pen obviously did not want to be shackled to my desk and there was someone out there who had a better use for it.
However, this was not the worst of what I had walked into.
In the cupboard where I had stored all of my therapy equipment had been infested by rodents and had rat poo ALL. OVER. EVERYTHING. They’d even managed to bite through a container of drinking chocolate powder and leave bits of rat-bite-sized plastic lid everywhere. Quicker than you could say “rat poo!” I had snapped on a pair of gloves and was madly cleaning out the store room with the strongest cleaning fluid that Suva had to offer.
Linda, my counterpart, came to school the next day and we decided to attack the cupboard. For too long, the school has managed to accumulate a lot of useless, broken, musty-smelling and old equipment. There was also a pile of equipment in plastic wrap that had been sitting in a separate store room for a year. I suggested to Linda that we open it, clean off the rat poo and determine if it was in good enough condition to be used. What we found was a gold mine!
We found fantastic supportive seating and a large wheelchair pram. We also found things that were of little help like ancient looking foot braces which looked like they’d been worn by Forrest Gump and other bits of incomplete broken equipment. We also visited the school’s hostel which also had a pile of equipment in plastic wrap that wasn’t being used. We raided that and found more supportive seating, wheelchairs, suspension walkers and one really small saddle walker. It was like Christmas all over again!
Since then, the school has taken a turn for the better. The Head Teacher has been inspired to shake up the school’s curriculum. She said that if she walks, her staff will crawl. If she runs, they will walk and if she takes flight, they will run. We’ve been having extensive meetings with the aim of improving the curriculum and making Hilton Special School the best that it can possibly be.
So anyway, that is how the start of the school year has panned out: productive, innovative and leaping forwards with a view to be the leaders of special education. I hope that this is a preview of things to come!
Friday, January 28, 2011
UP TO SPEED
Jeepers, I'm getting very slack with this blogging thing. I'm mainly being incredibly lazy, but I have been busy and this negates any ability to complete decent blogging. I was speaking to my housemates and realised that even if this is my main communication with family and friends, I really need to keep blogging to keep a record of my time here. When I look back on my experiences, I'd like to have a good record of what went on. It's the seemingly insignificant things that are the most important, but they are the ones that I tend to forget. You blink and the moment's passed. Before you know it, the next moment's taken over and all the amazing moments with their individual nuances become generalised into one comment: "Oh yeah, Fiji was OK." And just like that, the detail is forgotten.
So anyway, the following is a pictorial representation of all the cool places I visited over December and January! I had 7 weeks of school holidays to kill, so I thought I'd see as much of Fiji as I could:
Levuka - Fiji's old capital on an island to the east of Viti Levu called "Ovalau". It's a little town that's rich in history, slow-going with spectacular reef and ocean views. To get there, you take a bus from the Suva bus stand, which then takes you to a landing (??lotovi landing?) which then takes you on a ferry, which then takes you to Ovalau Island from Viti Levu. Then when you get to Ovalau Island, you re-board the bus which takes you around the island to Levuka!
View from the peak that overlooks the township:
A war memorial...
The colonial-style township:
Crime free town? Not now...
Taveuni - and island that sits to the east of Vanua Levu in the north. It is an island which has been affectionately dubbed as "The Garden Island". This is due to the wide range of flora and bird life that inhabits the island. The national flower of Fiji, the "Tagimaucia" (Tung-i-mouthia) grows only on this island, at a certain altitude in specific conditions, near water sources such as the mountain lake on Taveuni at a specific time of year. The 180degree meridian line/international date line also passes through the western part of Taveuni.
Sunset between Taveuni and Vanua Levu. The Island in the picture is the east side of Vanua Levu.
The rare and unique tagimoucia...
Bird life...
What day is it again?
Koroyanitu National Park - on the west side of Viti Levu between Nadi and Lautoka is Koroyanitu National Heritage Park. It sits behind Abaca ("Ambatha") Village and the park has craggy cliff faces, jungle and waterfalls that loom over the village. From the mountains, you can see breath-taking views of cliff-faced peaks that frame a perfect view out towards the west coast and islands that are dotted along Viti Levu.
Then there was Volivoli resort which is near a small town in Viti Levu's north called Rakiraki. This was where we welcomed in the new year.
We then headed up North to Vanua Levu to a sleepy little town called Savusavu. The locals call Savusavu "Paradise", and it doesn't fall short of its reputation. Savusavu is home to the pearl farms, hot springs, marinas that welcome in yachts from around the world, stunning off-the-beach snorkelling and a picturesque bay. There aren't any stereotypical beaches, but everything else is superb enough to make up for it.
Split rock:
View from above of Savusavu bay:
The oysters at the pearl farm:
I then visited a friend and fellow volunteer in a town called Labasa, which is in the north of Vanua Levu.
We then headed down the main tourist track and visited a resort near Sigatoka and then further onto the Mamanuca group to South Sea Island. This is pretty much all I saw:
The coral coast, Mamanucas and Yasawas are the typical tourist destinations of Fiji. I am in two minds about these parts of Fiji as I feel like it takes away from the real Fiji. However, resorts and small island holidays have become part of Fiji, so really, is it so far removed from the truth? Either way, it employs a large amount of locals and for the vast majority of sunburnt, sun-seartching, island holiday seekers, it works.
I think I should apply for a job with Fiji tourism now =D
And before I leave this post, courtesy must go to my three travelling buddies, Robin, Bec and Lucie for providing me with some of the lovely photos that you've seen!
So anyway, the following is a pictorial representation of all the cool places I visited over December and January! I had 7 weeks of school holidays to kill, so I thought I'd see as much of Fiji as I could:
Levuka - Fiji's old capital on an island to the east of Viti Levu called "Ovalau". It's a little town that's rich in history, slow-going with spectacular reef and ocean views. To get there, you take a bus from the Suva bus stand, which then takes you to a landing (??lotovi landing?) which then takes you on a ferry, which then takes you to Ovalau Island from Viti Levu. Then when you get to Ovalau Island, you re-board the bus which takes you around the island to Levuka!
View from the peak that overlooks the township:
A war memorial...
The colonial-style township:
Crime free town? Not now...
Taveuni - and island that sits to the east of Vanua Levu in the north. It is an island which has been affectionately dubbed as "The Garden Island". This is due to the wide range of flora and bird life that inhabits the island. The national flower of Fiji, the "Tagimaucia" (Tung-i-mouthia) grows only on this island, at a certain altitude in specific conditions, near water sources such as the mountain lake on Taveuni at a specific time of year. The 180degree meridian line/international date line also passes through the western part of Taveuni.
Sunset between Taveuni and Vanua Levu. The Island in the picture is the east side of Vanua Levu.
The rare and unique tagimoucia...
Bird life...
What day is it again?
Koroyanitu National Park - on the west side of Viti Levu between Nadi and Lautoka is Koroyanitu National Heritage Park. It sits behind Abaca ("Ambatha") Village and the park has craggy cliff faces, jungle and waterfalls that loom over the village. From the mountains, you can see breath-taking views of cliff-faced peaks that frame a perfect view out towards the west coast and islands that are dotted along Viti Levu.
Then there was Volivoli resort which is near a small town in Viti Levu's north called Rakiraki. This was where we welcomed in the new year.
We then headed up North to Vanua Levu to a sleepy little town called Savusavu. The locals call Savusavu "Paradise", and it doesn't fall short of its reputation. Savusavu is home to the pearl farms, hot springs, marinas that welcome in yachts from around the world, stunning off-the-beach snorkelling and a picturesque bay. There aren't any stereotypical beaches, but everything else is superb enough to make up for it.
Split rock:
View from above of Savusavu bay:
The oysters at the pearl farm:
I then visited a friend and fellow volunteer in a town called Labasa, which is in the north of Vanua Levu.
We then headed down the main tourist track and visited a resort near Sigatoka and then further onto the Mamanuca group to South Sea Island. This is pretty much all I saw:
The coral coast, Mamanucas and Yasawas are the typical tourist destinations of Fiji. I am in two minds about these parts of Fiji as I feel like it takes away from the real Fiji. However, resorts and small island holidays have become part of Fiji, so really, is it so far removed from the truth? Either way, it employs a large amount of locals and for the vast majority of sunburnt, sun-seartching, island holiday seekers, it works.
I think I should apply for a job with Fiji tourism now =D
And before I leave this post, courtesy must go to my three travelling buddies, Robin, Bec and Lucie for providing me with some of the lovely photos that you've seen!
Friday, January 7, 2011
ONE PLASTIC
Happy New Year! First of all, an apology once again for sporadic posts. I've been touring Fiji for the past month or so. My goodness this country is absolutely stunning!
Anyway, I was on a round tour of Samabula on a mission to buy bread and milk this morning for breakfast. Whilst doing my milk/break run, I came up with some inspiration about this next topic.
So in Australia, we've been brought to obsession with the "green bag". Plastic bags have become a mortal sin and the person who requests for more is whole heartedly deserving of a deathly scowl. Check out assistants are trained to refuse or limit their use of plastic bags, while some companies have decided to charge money for the use of the wretched inventions. Such is the national mission to save your plastic bags, save the world. Towards a greener environment. Stop killing the dolphins. And all that...
Not in Fiji.
In Fiji, there seems to be an obsession with "plastic". You say "plastic bag" here and everyone looks at you with a raised eyebrow, or in most cases, two raised eyebrows (this one being the "I-know-you-said-something-but-I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about" eyebrow raise). So now, I bring you the top 5 personal examples of plastic bag usage in Fiji:
IN FIFTH POSITION..........
SUVA MARKET:
Onions and potatoes, along with other amazing Indian spices and kava, are sold in the upper level of the market in Suva. I came here the other day to buy a bag of onions and a bag of potatoes. I purchased both of these items from one stall. The onions went in one bag, the potatoes in another which to me, is logical.
THEN both bags went into a third plastic bag.
IN FOURTH POSITION...........
Cost-U-Less:
The overseas import store where you can get everything from tofu to olives, cheaper chocolate and storage solutions. Kind of like cost-co or some other bulk-buy import store. I purchased tofu and washing powder.
At the checkout, the tofu went into one bag, and the washing powder in another separate bag.
IN THIRD POSITION.............
Supermarket in Nadi:
I purchased 2 packets of biscuits, a carton of UHT milk and a small bottle of sprite. I was expecting all of the aforementioned items to be placed into one bag, and maybe the sprite left out for immediate consumption.
I received: one bag for 2 biscuits, one bag for the milk and one bag for the sprite.
IN SECOND POSITION.............
The bookshop near the bus station in Suva:
I purchased a ball of twine. One single ball of twine. I had my Aussie green shopping bags with me at the time. Thinking ahead at the register, I told the lady "no plastic" whilst handing her over the twine and the cash. She responded with an eyebrow raise. She processed the transaction and I watched as her hand reached towards the pile of plastic bags on the counter. I repeated: "NO plastic". She looked at me and replied, "Yes, you have one plastic" and handed me my single ball of twine in a plastic bag along with my change.
BUT this one, in my opinion, takes the cake.
FIRST POSITION:
I went to buy some milk. Just milk. Nothing else. I did have a loaf of bread with me, but that was from a different shop. I placed the milk on the counter with the money. The transaction was processed and I took my milk and change and proceeded to walk out of the shop. I don't think I looked unbalanced or like I was struggling with my minimal shopping. However, as I proceeded to exit the shop, and in fact I was probably outside the shop at this point, the shop lady called out after me: "Excuse me, Ma'am! You have one plastic?!"
Anyway, I was on a round tour of Samabula on a mission to buy bread and milk this morning for breakfast. Whilst doing my milk/break run, I came up with some inspiration about this next topic.
So in Australia, we've been brought to obsession with the "green bag". Plastic bags have become a mortal sin and the person who requests for more is whole heartedly deserving of a deathly scowl. Check out assistants are trained to refuse or limit their use of plastic bags, while some companies have decided to charge money for the use of the wretched inventions. Such is the national mission to save your plastic bags, save the world. Towards a greener environment. Stop killing the dolphins. And all that...
Not in Fiji.
In Fiji, there seems to be an obsession with "plastic". You say "plastic bag" here and everyone looks at you with a raised eyebrow, or in most cases, two raised eyebrows (this one being the "I-know-you-said-something-but-I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about" eyebrow raise). So now, I bring you the top 5 personal examples of plastic bag usage in Fiji:
IN FIFTH POSITION..........
SUVA MARKET:
Onions and potatoes, along with other amazing Indian spices and kava, are sold in the upper level of the market in Suva. I came here the other day to buy a bag of onions and a bag of potatoes. I purchased both of these items from one stall. The onions went in one bag, the potatoes in another which to me, is logical.
THEN both bags went into a third plastic bag.
IN FOURTH POSITION...........
Cost-U-Less:
The overseas import store where you can get everything from tofu to olives, cheaper chocolate and storage solutions. Kind of like cost-co or some other bulk-buy import store. I purchased tofu and washing powder.
At the checkout, the tofu went into one bag, and the washing powder in another separate bag.
IN THIRD POSITION.............
Supermarket in Nadi:
I purchased 2 packets of biscuits, a carton of UHT milk and a small bottle of sprite. I was expecting all of the aforementioned items to be placed into one bag, and maybe the sprite left out for immediate consumption.
I received: one bag for 2 biscuits, one bag for the milk and one bag for the sprite.
IN SECOND POSITION.............
The bookshop near the bus station in Suva:
I purchased a ball of twine. One single ball of twine. I had my Aussie green shopping bags with me at the time. Thinking ahead at the register, I told the lady "no plastic" whilst handing her over the twine and the cash. She responded with an eyebrow raise. She processed the transaction and I watched as her hand reached towards the pile of plastic bags on the counter. I repeated: "NO plastic". She looked at me and replied, "Yes, you have one plastic" and handed me my single ball of twine in a plastic bag along with my change.
BUT this one, in my opinion, takes the cake.
FIRST POSITION:
I went to buy some milk. Just milk. Nothing else. I did have a loaf of bread with me, but that was from a different shop. I placed the milk on the counter with the money. The transaction was processed and I took my milk and change and proceeded to walk out of the shop. I don't think I looked unbalanced or like I was struggling with my minimal shopping. However, as I proceeded to exit the shop, and in fact I was probably outside the shop at this point, the shop lady called out after me: "Excuse me, Ma'am! You have one plastic?!"
Saturday, December 25, 2010
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Merry Christmas to all my readers and to all the loved ones I have seen or not seen over this Melbourne Christmas break.
I've been back in Melbourne for 2 weeks just to catch up with family, friends and stock up on a whole heap of junk that I can't get in Fiji.
I also nearly destroyed Australia's ecosystem when I declared my shoes for inspection at customs. I had been traipsing through rural Fiji in rainy season rains (which are different from normal rains as they are MUCH more fiesty), which also meant walking through rural soil, mud, etc.
As I pulled my shoes out for close inspection, a spider jumped out from my shoes and scuttled straight to the customs officer. In true Aussie, "Border Security" fashion, she yelled out "SPOIDER!! SPOIDER!" and slammed her hand down on its small feeble black body. Followed by: "Oy Pete! We need the! We got a live one..".
Welcome home, you've arrived in Australia.
A trio of singing, guitar brandishing, happy men is to Fiji airport as stringent, jumpy customs officers are to Australia.
I did feel slightly guilty for bringing in a live spider into the country, but I did get my shoes cleaned in ultra-strong paint-stripper strength fluid though. Hope my shoes don't fall apart!
And here are a few photos just because I haven't posted any up in a while: They're from Abaca park, somewhere in between Nadi and Lautoka.
I've been back in Melbourne for 2 weeks just to catch up with family, friends and stock up on a whole heap of junk that I can't get in Fiji.
I also nearly destroyed Australia's ecosystem when I declared my shoes for inspection at customs. I had been traipsing through rural Fiji in rainy season rains (which are different from normal rains as they are MUCH more fiesty), which also meant walking through rural soil, mud, etc.
As I pulled my shoes out for close inspection, a spider jumped out from my shoes and scuttled straight to the customs officer. In true Aussie, "Border Security" fashion, she yelled out "SPOIDER!! SPOIDER!" and slammed her hand down on its small feeble black body. Followed by: "Oy Pete! We need the
Welcome home, you've arrived in Australia.
A trio of singing, guitar brandishing, happy men is to Fiji airport as stringent, jumpy customs officers are to Australia.
I did feel slightly guilty for bringing in a live spider into the country, but I did get my shoes cleaned in ultra-strong paint-stripper strength fluid though. Hope my shoes don't fall apart!
And here are a few photos just because I haven't posted any up in a while: They're from Abaca park, somewhere in between Nadi and Lautoka.
Friday, December 17, 2010
FEEDING NEMO
After months of waiting, pestering and disorganisation, I finally managed to get my open water diving license. AWESOME!
Em and I first contacted our instructor in August hoping to be certified by September. We had our first pool dive in August and that went swimmingly well (hur hur hur...). Next on the agenda for becoming certified were our two open water dives.
The next two months we endured:
"Sorry, the other people we were meant to go out with are sick so it's not cost effective for me to go out an extra time for you"
"Sorry, the boat's under repairs"
"Sorry, busy this Saturday, let's go on Sunday - call me on Saturday" ...except when we called on Saturday, the instructor happened to be out diving on his boat. Not sure why he was busy when we were initially scheduled for that day.
"Sorry, I've fallen off my boat and injured myself"
"Sorry, the weather's a bit choppy"
"Sorry, I'm sick"
"Boat's broken again"
And despite some of these being completely valid reasons for not going diving, it got rather tiresome after the 5th cancellation. I was beginning to think that it was a sign and that I wasn't meant to go diving. Anyway, we finally made a date to go out. The sun was batting for our team today and he also managed to chase away strong currents and winds.
Our wetsuits were on, water and snacks packed, information reference cards all ready to go and all the equipment was ready for us on the boat. Ready, set, dive.
The training spot for open water dives was in the middle of Suva harbour. There's an anchor spot where the boat was tied. The handy thing about this spot is that there's a rope between the anchor and the boat which you can pull yourself down on. It's a bit hard to sink the first few times. You're breathing heavily because you're anxious, you're going over all those details that your instructor went through with you 2 months ago, you're nervous as all hell that you might forget something, or something might go wrong...
And then you're greeted by the fish and the reef below you. There are blue ones, black and white striped ones, yellow ones, ones with huge black dots on their back. I've been told by one marine expert that recognising a fish by its colour is probably not the best way to identify a fish. However, the first time you go down, you're just mesmorised by the array of fish swimming away from you.
We were down for about 30 minutes and it was at this time that I wasn't feeling so great. As we were coming up, I felt an incredible wave of nausea come over me. I'm not entirely sure what happened or why, but I was about to establish my reputation as the chundering diver. I was waiting at 5 metres below sea level waiting for the 3 minute safety stop to be up. Then I looked at the diving instructor, motioned to him that I wasn't feeling too great, and vomited into my regulator.
At the time, I was too busy vomiting to notice, but my diving instructor swore to me that there was an incredible array of fish that came to feed off my regurgitated breakfast.
We had our break and I was feeling incredibly worse for wear. I'm not sure if I was feeling sea-sick from the boat ride. The water wasn't even that choppy! It was time to go down again for our second dive. I wasn't feeling terribly great but I was convinved that I'd feel better when I was down under the water again. I had only lasted about 15 minutes before I motioned to the instructor that I had to surface.
I was zonked by the end of the day. For the rest of the afternoon and the evening, I kept feeling like I was on the boat and a wave had hit me again and again. Thank god for stemetil.
So a fortnight later, we went out again and it was a bit choppier this time. I had drunk about a liter of ginger tea and had had no dairy for breakfast. I wasn't taking any chances. It was pineapple and toast for breakfast and tea without milk. So when I went down and felt that familiar feeling of nausea AGAIN, it was amusing to see bits of undigested pineapple projecting out of my regulator mouthpiece.
Since then, I've been to a little island called Caqalai and have successfully gone on 3 dives with only 1 vomit. Apparently there are two Amandas that go to Caqalai and I'm known as the vomiting Amanda, even though I haven't vomited all that much over there. It's been worth it though. I've seen nudibranches, sea turtles, a moray eel, butterfly fish, clown fish and god knows how many other amazingly coloured fish.
Emily has now gotten to know my signals for "time to chuck" and I am so glad she is there for me as she's the one who stops me from floating back up to the surface. I am beginning to think that it's all in my head and that I don't suffer from nausea...I'm just completely freaked out that I will vomit, to the point that I make myself sick thinking about it. The other theory is that I swallow too much air when I'm under the surface that when I come up again, the air bubbles in my stomach becomes so large that they stimulate a gag reflex as they grow larger.
I also went to Taveuni and saw some amazing sights: stereotypical nemos (clown fish) in molluscs, a table of coral and anemone with HEAPS of clown fish, a sea hermit crab thingo, these long eel-looking like fish, a reef shark, sea cucumber, coral that changes colour when you touch it. I just wish I had a camera and/or a fish book to know what I was looking at!
Oh yes, I vomited multiple times in Taveuni as well.
So anyway, this concludes my diving journey for now. I will go diving again despite feeling ill all the time. Afterall, it's only a transient nausea which goes away as soon as I've evacuated all contents of my stomach.
...and I also get to see way more fish this way :)
Em and I first contacted our instructor in August hoping to be certified by September. We had our first pool dive in August and that went swimmingly well (hur hur hur...). Next on the agenda for becoming certified were our two open water dives.
The next two months we endured:
"Sorry, the other people we were meant to go out with are sick so it's not cost effective for me to go out an extra time for you"
"Sorry, the boat's under repairs"
"Sorry, busy this Saturday, let's go on Sunday - call me on Saturday" ...except when we called on Saturday, the instructor happened to be out diving on his boat. Not sure why he was busy when we were initially scheduled for that day.
"Sorry, I've fallen off my boat and injured myself"
"Sorry, the weather's a bit choppy"
"Sorry, I'm sick"
"Boat's broken again"
And despite some of these being completely valid reasons for not going diving, it got rather tiresome after the 5th cancellation. I was beginning to think that it was a sign and that I wasn't meant to go diving. Anyway, we finally made a date to go out. The sun was batting for our team today and he also managed to chase away strong currents and winds.
Our wetsuits were on, water and snacks packed, information reference cards all ready to go and all the equipment was ready for us on the boat. Ready, set, dive.
The training spot for open water dives was in the middle of Suva harbour. There's an anchor spot where the boat was tied. The handy thing about this spot is that there's a rope between the anchor and the boat which you can pull yourself down on. It's a bit hard to sink the first few times. You're breathing heavily because you're anxious, you're going over all those details that your instructor went through with you 2 months ago, you're nervous as all hell that you might forget something, or something might go wrong...
And then you're greeted by the fish and the reef below you. There are blue ones, black and white striped ones, yellow ones, ones with huge black dots on their back. I've been told by one marine expert that recognising a fish by its colour is probably not the best way to identify a fish. However, the first time you go down, you're just mesmorised by the array of fish swimming away from you.
We were down for about 30 minutes and it was at this time that I wasn't feeling so great. As we were coming up, I felt an incredible wave of nausea come over me. I'm not entirely sure what happened or why, but I was about to establish my reputation as the chundering diver. I was waiting at 5 metres below sea level waiting for the 3 minute safety stop to be up. Then I looked at the diving instructor, motioned to him that I wasn't feeling too great, and vomited into my regulator.
At the time, I was too busy vomiting to notice, but my diving instructor swore to me that there was an incredible array of fish that came to feed off my regurgitated breakfast.
We had our break and I was feeling incredibly worse for wear. I'm not sure if I was feeling sea-sick from the boat ride. The water wasn't even that choppy! It was time to go down again for our second dive. I wasn't feeling terribly great but I was convinved that I'd feel better when I was down under the water again. I had only lasted about 15 minutes before I motioned to the instructor that I had to surface.
I was zonked by the end of the day. For the rest of the afternoon and the evening, I kept feeling like I was on the boat and a wave had hit me again and again. Thank god for stemetil.
So a fortnight later, we went out again and it was a bit choppier this time. I had drunk about a liter of ginger tea and had had no dairy for breakfast. I wasn't taking any chances. It was pineapple and toast for breakfast and tea without milk. So when I went down and felt that familiar feeling of nausea AGAIN, it was amusing to see bits of undigested pineapple projecting out of my regulator mouthpiece.
Since then, I've been to a little island called Caqalai and have successfully gone on 3 dives with only 1 vomit. Apparently there are two Amandas that go to Caqalai and I'm known as the vomiting Amanda, even though I haven't vomited all that much over there. It's been worth it though. I've seen nudibranches, sea turtles, a moray eel, butterfly fish, clown fish and god knows how many other amazingly coloured fish.
Emily has now gotten to know my signals for "time to chuck" and I am so glad she is there for me as she's the one who stops me from floating back up to the surface. I am beginning to think that it's all in my head and that I don't suffer from nausea...I'm just completely freaked out that I will vomit, to the point that I make myself sick thinking about it. The other theory is that I swallow too much air when I'm under the surface that when I come up again, the air bubbles in my stomach becomes so large that they stimulate a gag reflex as they grow larger.
I also went to Taveuni and saw some amazing sights: stereotypical nemos (clown fish) in molluscs, a table of coral and anemone with HEAPS of clown fish, a sea hermit crab thingo, these long eel-looking like fish, a reef shark, sea cucumber, coral that changes colour when you touch it. I just wish I had a camera and/or a fish book to know what I was looking at!
Oh yes, I vomited multiple times in Taveuni as well.
So anyway, this concludes my diving journey for now. I will go diving again despite feeling ill all the time. Afterall, it's only a transient nausea which goes away as soon as I've evacuated all contents of my stomach.
...and I also get to see way more fish this way :)
Saturday, November 27, 2010
RATED G
It was the last official day of school for the children. The original plan was to take them to Deuba ("deh-umba") park, but strong winds suggestive of a developing cyclone thwarted our day trip plans. No one fancied the idea of fishing out shivering children from freezing cold water or reversing the effects of hypothermia...if that's at all possible in Fiji. Of course, the children were severely disappointed. Their hopes as damp as my therapy room. ...nah, nothing can be wetter than that.
Just going off the track a bit, but here's something a little amusing:
There exists within the school a single manilla folder labelled "OH+S". Within this folder is a single sheet of paper which lists briefly certain aspects of the school that require reviewing. One of them is a lack of fire alarm/sensing system. On the second half of the page are a few strategies that have been brainstormed to solve the school's OH+S issues.
Recently, the school was donated a large amount of money from a very generous association. It was suggested that the money should be used to put in place a flashing light alarm system for the hearing impaired department in case of fire. Neighbouring the hearing impaired classrooms are classrooms where there are able-hearing teachers and students. The school is set up in such a way that a classroom of physically impaired children has to pass a hearing impaired classroom to exit the school. Due to their reduced auditory input, the hearing impaired children generally have a heightened sense of smell. Rather than hearing a person coming, they smell a person coming. In fact, they could even smell a fire better than you or I. This is provided that the school is dry enough to catch on fire - which is how this tangent is developed.
So yes, the spirits of the children were dampened, on par with the dampness of the school itself.
Our head teacher called a meeting to decide what was to be done with the children as an alternative for the day. Meetings are interesting. For the most part, the head teacher will take the floor, not because she likes the sound of her own voice, but if she doesn't there is usually a mammoth of awkward silence placed on the table. People are mostly too soft spoken to bring their ideas forward to the group. They much prefer to discuss it with their neighbour and hope that the head teacher over hears them. We tossed up ideas of driving them to Deuba next year and sending them home today. There was also talk of driving 2 and a half hours to kula bird park in Sigatoka, but half of the kids had already been, so of course we couldn't go there again. Ideas kept throwing themselves about but would land lifeless and limp on teh table once another teacher had shot it down. Finally, someone suggested that we go to Village 6 - our local cinema.
We looked up the movie times and we had the choice of Harry Potter, or a fine selection of bad-boy rough and tough, shoot-em-up movies. Excellent range for a school trip. Most movies were starting at 10:20 and it was now 10:00. This happened to be an appropriate time for debating about how we were going to get there and where was the money to pay for it. A lengthy discussion ensued and it was finally decided at 10:20 that we would pack 40 kids onto a mini school bus and cart them down to Village 6. The children would be paid for and any adults who wanted to go would have to pay for themselves.
10:30 we arrived at Village 6 and the movies had already commenced. We were standing at the ticket box. No one knew which movie we were seeing. I assumed we were seeing Harry Potter as it was the only mildly child-friendly movie appropriate for children as young as 6 years old. Somehow, the ticket lady managed to convince us that the movie called "Faster" was rated G and so she sold us 40 tickets. We ushered the children in as quickly as possible and what followed was the most awkward, uncomfortable movie viewing experience I have ever had.
In case you haven't heard of the movie, "Faster", it's got that huge wrestler-turn-actor guy. Now, in the short 15 minutes that we were in the cinema (and 15 minutes too long), we saw the following scenes:
- a car chase with lots of swearing (this was only minimally awkward)
- a semi-naked muscley man doing a series of hard-core yoga poses who then turns soft-core porn when he wakes his naked lady friend whose rude bits are draped by a sheet.
- a heist scene in which the presumed bad guys are torturing the presumed good guys into giving information with guns pointed at their head and shooting past their ears (this is me squirming in my chair wanting to run to the younger ones to cover their eyes and ears)
- an old man pretending to be a little bit more frail than he actually is so that he can lure a young woman into his apartment, drug her and then....
Finally, it was decided that the movie was too violent and inappropriate for the children. And sure enough, we made a beeline to cinema 1 where Harry Potter was about 30 minutes in.
It was such a comforting noise to hear the children laugh and gasp in response to the movie. I was so glad to be out of the other cinema. I couldn't stop writhing and twitching out of awkwardness and discomfort. No child should ever be viewing such violent scenes. I have no idea how the ticket lady thought it was even appropriate to suggest that movie to a bunch of 6-18 year old kids.
Anyway, sega na leqa, in the end the children had fun and even pretended to be fighting wizards when they returned to school!
Just going off the track a bit, but here's something a little amusing:
There exists within the school a single manilla folder labelled "OH+S". Within this folder is a single sheet of paper which lists briefly certain aspects of the school that require reviewing. One of them is a lack of fire alarm/sensing system. On the second half of the page are a few strategies that have been brainstormed to solve the school's OH+S issues.
Recently, the school was donated a large amount of money from a very generous association. It was suggested that the money should be used to put in place a flashing light alarm system for the hearing impaired department in case of fire. Neighbouring the hearing impaired classrooms are classrooms where there are able-hearing teachers and students. The school is set up in such a way that a classroom of physically impaired children has to pass a hearing impaired classroom to exit the school. Due to their reduced auditory input, the hearing impaired children generally have a heightened sense of smell. Rather than hearing a person coming, they smell a person coming. In fact, they could even smell a fire better than you or I. This is provided that the school is dry enough to catch on fire - which is how this tangent is developed.
So yes, the spirits of the children were dampened, on par with the dampness of the school itself.
Our head teacher called a meeting to decide what was to be done with the children as an alternative for the day. Meetings are interesting. For the most part, the head teacher will take the floor, not because she likes the sound of her own voice, but if she doesn't there is usually a mammoth of awkward silence placed on the table. People are mostly too soft spoken to bring their ideas forward to the group. They much prefer to discuss it with their neighbour and hope that the head teacher over hears them. We tossed up ideas of driving them to Deuba next year and sending them home today. There was also talk of driving 2 and a half hours to kula bird park in Sigatoka, but half of the kids had already been, so of course we couldn't go there again. Ideas kept throwing themselves about but would land lifeless and limp on teh table once another teacher had shot it down. Finally, someone suggested that we go to Village 6 - our local cinema.
We looked up the movie times and we had the choice of Harry Potter, or a fine selection of bad-boy rough and tough, shoot-em-up movies. Excellent range for a school trip. Most movies were starting at 10:20 and it was now 10:00. This happened to be an appropriate time for debating about how we were going to get there and where was the money to pay for it. A lengthy discussion ensued and it was finally decided at 10:20 that we would pack 40 kids onto a mini school bus and cart them down to Village 6. The children would be paid for and any adults who wanted to go would have to pay for themselves.
10:30 we arrived at Village 6 and the movies had already commenced. We were standing at the ticket box. No one knew which movie we were seeing. I assumed we were seeing Harry Potter as it was the only mildly child-friendly movie appropriate for children as young as 6 years old. Somehow, the ticket lady managed to convince us that the movie called "Faster" was rated G and so she sold us 40 tickets. We ushered the children in as quickly as possible and what followed was the most awkward, uncomfortable movie viewing experience I have ever had.
In case you haven't heard of the movie, "Faster", it's got that huge wrestler-turn-actor guy. Now, in the short 15 minutes that we were in the cinema (and 15 minutes too long), we saw the following scenes:
- a car chase with lots of swearing (this was only minimally awkward)
- a semi-naked muscley man doing a series of hard-core yoga poses who then turns soft-core porn when he wakes his naked lady friend whose rude bits are draped by a sheet.
- a heist scene in which the presumed bad guys are torturing the presumed good guys into giving information with guns pointed at their head and shooting past their ears (this is me squirming in my chair wanting to run to the younger ones to cover their eyes and ears)
- an old man pretending to be a little bit more frail than he actually is so that he can lure a young woman into his apartment, drug her and then....
Finally, it was decided that the movie was too violent and inappropriate for the children. And sure enough, we made a beeline to cinema 1 where Harry Potter was about 30 minutes in.
It was such a comforting noise to hear the children laugh and gasp in response to the movie. I was so glad to be out of the other cinema. I couldn't stop writhing and twitching out of awkwardness and discomfort. No child should ever be viewing such violent scenes. I have no idea how the ticket lady thought it was even appropriate to suggest that movie to a bunch of 6-18 year old kids.
Anyway, sega na leqa, in the end the children had fun and even pretended to be fighting wizards when they returned to school!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
DAILY ROUTINE
Apologies about the hiatus in posting. I have become accustomed to Fiji time and attitudes of: mmmyes, it will get done...or maybe not. I believe that my mother's main concern about me coming to Fiji has come true. That is, excluding the ohter concern of my mother's which was to avoid bringing home any local Fijian boyfriends - at any cost.
It's not that nothing's been happening. In fact, a lot has happened. I spend about 2 hours a day debriefing with the whole household at the end of each working day and I've been away on heaps of weekend trips.
There's also been Diwali where we all dressed up in Salwar Kameez (apologies about incorrect spelling) and went to Emily's teacher's house for an amazing Diwali lunch:
It also sounded like a warzone on Diwali night with fireworks being set off across the whole of Fiji. There was even a fireworks display in the middle of our street. This was courtesy of our neighbours who probably spent hundreds of Fijian dollars on explosives. We also dabbled in a bit of pyrotechnics ourselves. In fact, I've never set off fireworks and just HAD to live up to my ancestors invention of gunpowder and fireworks. Seeing as everyone here thinks I'm from China and they stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I'm from Australia, it was completely warranted that I set off a ridiculous amount of fireworks to live up to my stereotype.
Au dau vuli vosa Vakaviti e na Moniti. Au a sega ni rawa ni vosa Vakaviti baleta, au sa exceptionally embarrassed to try.
I also finally found Nemo...but maybe I'll leave that for another post.
Finally, before I get on with the main story, I've discovered that everything grows mould here. Even my milo. You know how milo gets spilled on the rim of the tin when you spoon more than the recommended heaped teaspoon amount into your cup? Well, those little bits of milo that have been left behind on the rim of the tin have actually managed to grow mould. It's also a wonder that my stomach isn't more upset when I proceed with eating my fried noodles despite discovering that the oyster sauce that I had poured into it actually had a layer of mould growing on its surface.
Anyway, I thought I'd go into detail about my daily routine at school:
Lauren and I catch the bus to school. Sometimes we run into Kelvin or Peni who are students at the school. Other times, we run into Meg who's the other volunteer pharmacist at the hospital across the road from the school. Most of the time it's pouring down with rain and if I'm lucky, Viliame will walk up the driveway with an umbrella to cover me on my walk from the road, down the driveway and into the school.
We say "Yadra" to Mrs Wright who is usually sweeping the front assembly area or is in the office tapping away at the typewriter. "Tina" is usually there sitting with Mrs Wright and greets us with her slurred "Good Morning!".
We walk down the corridor to our double doors to the therapy room. As it has been raining heavily recently, Lauren and I like to guess which part of the room contains either a flood or a waterfall. I usually guess that the left side of the room is flooded and Lauren will predict a waterfall on the right side of the room. Most of the time, we are both correct.
Following the discovery of a flooded therapy room (which also happens to be a perfect example of what not to do to maintain OH&S standards), I unlock the cupboard to take out the aeroguard. While Lauren sprays herself with aeroguard, I busy myself with lighting a mosquito coil. "Sarah" will ALWAYS walk over to us and ask "This, the what?" which Lauren in all her Speech Pathology glory will correct her: "What is this for?". And EVERYTIME we will have to explain to her that the can is called "Aeroguard" and it "helps keep the mozzies away".
Now, everyone is exceptionally protective of their possessions at school. This also includes the mop which is desperately needed to mop the many puddles on the therapy room floor. It's extremely annoying that there is no mop at school and so the room stays flooded until Aunty Una gets to school (about 2 hours later) to mop the floor.
Student "Mary" will arrive on the first trip of the school bus. Sometimes she puts her hands over our eyes to play "Guess who?". She makes a good effort, but it's so easy to tell that it's her because of the way she holds her hemiplegic (weak) hand over my eyes. She then asks: "Today is who?". Which Lauren then corrects her: "Who is exercising today?". Which Mary then replies: "Today, me? Me and who?". Everytime she asks this, I tell her to read the timetable (because I think it's a very important skill to know how to read a timetable). Slowly, she reads out all the names that I have listed for the day. If her name is listed, she'll hiss out an excited "yessssss!" and run to her classroom.
From there, the day rolls on but with varying events depending on what day it is.
It's not that nothing's been happening. In fact, a lot has happened. I spend about 2 hours a day debriefing with the whole household at the end of each working day and I've been away on heaps of weekend trips.
There's also been Diwali where we all dressed up in Salwar Kameez (apologies about incorrect spelling) and went to Emily's teacher's house for an amazing Diwali lunch:
It also sounded like a warzone on Diwali night with fireworks being set off across the whole of Fiji. There was even a fireworks display in the middle of our street. This was courtesy of our neighbours who probably spent hundreds of Fijian dollars on explosives. We also dabbled in a bit of pyrotechnics ourselves. In fact, I've never set off fireworks and just HAD to live up to my ancestors invention of gunpowder and fireworks. Seeing as everyone here thinks I'm from China and they stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I'm from Australia, it was completely warranted that I set off a ridiculous amount of fireworks to live up to my stereotype.
Au dau vuli vosa Vakaviti e na Moniti. Au a sega ni rawa ni vosa Vakaviti baleta, au sa exceptionally embarrassed to try.
I also finally found Nemo...but maybe I'll leave that for another post.
Finally, before I get on with the main story, I've discovered that everything grows mould here. Even my milo. You know how milo gets spilled on the rim of the tin when you spoon more than the recommended heaped teaspoon amount into your cup? Well, those little bits of milo that have been left behind on the rim of the tin have actually managed to grow mould. It's also a wonder that my stomach isn't more upset when I proceed with eating my fried noodles despite discovering that the oyster sauce that I had poured into it actually had a layer of mould growing on its surface.
Anyway, I thought I'd go into detail about my daily routine at school:
Lauren and I catch the bus to school. Sometimes we run into Kelvin or Peni who are students at the school. Other times, we run into Meg who's the other volunteer pharmacist at the hospital across the road from the school. Most of the time it's pouring down with rain and if I'm lucky, Viliame will walk up the driveway with an umbrella to cover me on my walk from the road, down the driveway and into the school.
We say "Yadra" to Mrs Wright who is usually sweeping the front assembly area or is in the office tapping away at the typewriter. "Tina" is usually there sitting with Mrs Wright and greets us with her slurred "Good Morning!".
We walk down the corridor to our double doors to the therapy room. As it has been raining heavily recently, Lauren and I like to guess which part of the room contains either a flood or a waterfall. I usually guess that the left side of the room is flooded and Lauren will predict a waterfall on the right side of the room. Most of the time, we are both correct.
Following the discovery of a flooded therapy room (which also happens to be a perfect example of what not to do to maintain OH&S standards), I unlock the cupboard to take out the aeroguard. While Lauren sprays herself with aeroguard, I busy myself with lighting a mosquito coil. "Sarah" will ALWAYS walk over to us and ask "This, the what?" which Lauren in all her Speech Pathology glory will correct her: "What is this for?". And EVERYTIME we will have to explain to her that the can is called "Aeroguard" and it "helps keep the mozzies away".
Now, everyone is exceptionally protective of their possessions at school. This also includes the mop which is desperately needed to mop the many puddles on the therapy room floor. It's extremely annoying that there is no mop at school and so the room stays flooded until Aunty Una gets to school (about 2 hours later) to mop the floor.
Student "Mary" will arrive on the first trip of the school bus. Sometimes she puts her hands over our eyes to play "Guess who?". She makes a good effort, but it's so easy to tell that it's her because of the way she holds her hemiplegic (weak) hand over my eyes. She then asks: "Today is who?". Which Lauren then corrects her: "Who is exercising today?". Which Mary then replies: "Today, me? Me and who?". Everytime she asks this, I tell her to read the timetable (because I think it's a very important skill to know how to read a timetable). Slowly, she reads out all the names that I have listed for the day. If her name is listed, she'll hiss out an excited "yessssss!" and run to her classroom.
From there, the day rolls on but with varying events depending on what day it is.
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