Despite also being kinda plane hungover in the morning, we bundled ourselves out and caught the train to Shinjuku. From Sasazuka you can only use the Keio line, which is a much smaller train line. It means you have to do connections to most places, but not to Shinjuku! The trip was super short and we arrived at about 11ish. I got excited to show Ellicia, Cooper and Tara the giant Godzilla, but sorta realised that I am a child and excited by things less people are. Anyway, we walked there – pushing through intense crowds of people – and checked it out. It was actually pretty warm, so we decided to find somewhere to get a beer and found ourselves at home in the English themed pub St James. The people working there really leaned into their characters, serving us in the most surly way. I was amused. About 20 mins into drinking our beers, a couple of Japanese dudes came and sat beside us. One was drunk as fuck and told us (randomly) that he was 44. Lee and I are 44, so we all had a laugh. Bazzy has been learning Japanese at uni, and so he engaged them in some funny half Japanese, half English conversation. Turns out, the super drunk guy is the Tokyo 2023 World Poker Champion. Baz and Keenan exchanged numbers with the dude’s friend and took a photo. So cool and so random.
Next stop was Pokémon Station – totally not worth it, just FYI. It was just a bunch of chairs in front of a Pokémon themed vending machine. Disappointing. We did enjoy the Macca’s though – Lee got a shrimp burger which he rated. Afterwards, we jumped on the Yamanote Line to Harajuku. Harajuku on a Saturday is all kinds of insane, but in a good way. Just super busy – like bumper to bumper with other human beings type busy. But everyone is happy and ready for a good time. You just walk from the top of Takeshita Street to the bottom, about 500 metres, and it takes about 20 minutes. You have to let yourself flow with the tide of people. The funny thing is, that is you want a break you jump into one of the shops. A bit like a fish sliding into a knot of roots on the bank to take a break. The shops themselves were almost always quiet and mostly empty. So bizarre! We popped into a couple so I could look at the cute jewellery and Lee searched for socks. We both snagged some goodies, plus a new dog toy for our three doggos. At the end of the street, we divided up – letting Ellicia and Cooper take a breather and the bigger kids to go in search of an animal cafe. We all met up about 45 mins later and shared stories of the silliness we got up to. The big kids got to cuddle hedgehogs which is cool. I am a bit jealous!
Once we managed to get back to Shinjuku station and find the Keio line, we came back to Sasazuka to chill. Again, my spirit wanted to go out at night to experience Japan at night, but my body just didn’t wanna play the game. 17,000 steps per day is about average for Japan, but I’m still not adjusted to it and thus bedtime was early again. Maybe when we get to Osaka I’ll be able to share some reflections on nightmare adventures. Watch this space!
Last March we lost my gorgeous nephew to osteosarcoma. It’s a real fucker of a cancer, and despite all the treatment and the pain he endured hoping to get better and live the incredible life he should have, his little body succumbed. Cohen desperately wanted to visit Japan. He knew so much about the country – the food, culture, history, all of it. Throughout his sickness, I took him snacks and cute things from Daiso, sent him and his brother yukatas, and delivered him a range of goodies from a Japanese bakery. The last big family outing we had, we went to Regent Plaza in the city, played claw machines, and he tried more Japanese food like cheese tarts, bubble tea (I know, not Japanese per se) and ramen. He didn’t actually like any of them, which we giggled about, but it was likely because he was in so much pain. He was in so much pain but he pushed on, determined to wring every last drop of experience from the day.
The last time I saw Cohen, he told me he’d see me again. He passed away before that could happen, but my sister told me he asked my family to take his ashes to Japan and the cherry blossoms. So, that’s what we are doing and that’s why I’m here in Japan, lying in a strange room, thinking about Harajuku and how much Cohen would have loved trying all the interesting foods it has to offer. Telling myself to embrace every experience. Not to take anything for granted.
I’m travelling with my sister and Cohen’s big brother, Cooper. The boys are only 11 months apart. This is Cooper’s first overseas trip and he has been a fucking champion. The whole thing is overwhelming enough for us adults, but at 17 (almost) he’s just braving it out, confronting his fears. The flight was an overnight one from Sydney to Tokyo. I sat with my eldest son’s girlfriend (Tara) as she’s a nervous flyer too. Lee and Keenan sat behind us and pretty much slept most of the flight. Cooper did well to sleep a few hours. My sleep was broken because I don’t like turbulence and plane chairs are bloody uncomfortable. But it was all worth it when we landed and the plane taxiing in revealed the most incredible red sunrise. For me, the sunrise is Cohen. It was early morning when he passed away… not long before the sun rose, really. I’ve walked to see the sunrise as often as I can since, and that red glory yesterday made me smile and made my sister cry.
Because my youngest son decided he was coming on the trip a bit after we had decided, he booked a different flight and ended up in Tokyo about 8 hours before us. After wandering around Haneda airport in the cold and making friends with some Japanese people, he finally met up with as when we landed at 7am. It was such a cool experience having him there, smiling and laughing. We had been a bit anxious coming through customs with Cohen’s ashes but it was a non event in the end – we just walked right through, no questions asked. I was so relieved for Ellicia (my sister) as that anxiety had been plaguing her for months.
After picking up our Ninja wifi at the airport, we left Lee in charge of the trains and we realised too late that catching a train in peak-hour in Japan is a bad but quite hilarious idea. Those videos you see online of people being crammed into carriages literally like sardines? Yeah, that’s completely accurate. Ellicia and I found ourselves with two women pushed flush against our bodies. It was bizarre and incredibly amusing and despite it being a bit of a cultural misstep, we found ourselves laughing until we cried.
We decided to head to Shibuya to check out the scramble crossing and just wander around for a few hours until our AirBnB was ready. This was quite the experience also. We popped our luggage in some lockers but stupidly did so inside of the train gates – so when we returned to collect them (after an incredibly painful drama trying to relocate the actual lockers – Shibuya is a mess of doors and gates and people) we had to pay to go through the gates. Let’s just say we paid once, and when that didn’t reveal our locker, we ended up jumping the gates the next time. Such rebels. Probably don’t follow my tips for travelling in Japan!
We had to catch a Keio line to our AirBnB in Sasazuka. Of course that required a transfer too – poor Cooper by this point had asked not to be riding anymore trains that day. Hopefully he will get used to them, and hopefully we won’t be getting as lost as we did on the first day. Sasazuka is a very pretty, very clean station and town. There are so many nice shops and restaurants right at the station. The place we are staying at for a couple of nights is a three story townhouse. So bougie too! Everyone settled in quickly and after a trip to the supermarket (where everything is so cheap it’s ridiculous and it makes you realise how fucked over we get in Australia) we settled in for the rest of the day. Keenan and Tara decided to head out to explore for the night but the rest of us crashed – Balin quite literally crashing out on the lounge room floor on the tatami mat.
It’s now almost 6am, and I can hear the tinkling of plates downstairs – or perhaps coffee cups – so I’m going to venture down and take my big sister for a coffee. Today’s adventures will involve Harajuku and Shinjuku. And trains.
Last week I decided to step out of my little post-COVID bubble and present at a TeachMeet again. It’s been years, literally, since I’ve attended one, but it ended up being really nice. Big thank you to Pru Thomas for organising the event – it was super special.
Below is a copy of the script I wrote for my 10 minute talk. I didn’t read the script, but I did look at it a couple of times when I got nervous. Enjoy!
My bestie took this photo of me. ☺️
Hi everyone,
My name is Bianca Hewes, and I’ve been a Shakespeare addict since I was 15. My gateway drug was the obvious – Macbeth. I can’t remember if I studied it for my HSC or earlier – but I do remember the assessment task my English teacher set us. We had to recite a soliloquy. Being the emo child that I was, I chose the bleakest of the play:
Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Those words might seem too big and too serious for a teenager, but they stuck their little barbs in me. Back then, I just liked the mood, the anguish. Back then, I didn’t know grief, but I do now. So it hits a little differently at 43 than what it did at 15. I think that’s a perfect example of how our appreciation for Shakespeare can shift dependent on who and where we are. Shakespeare doesn’t sit still. That’s an idea I’d like to return to later.
Like most of you, I have taught many of Shakespeare’s plays over my teaching career – Lear, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, The Tempest, Richard, Henry 1st, Midsummer… I even have a sonnet that I whip out to hook my kids in – My Mistress Eyes. Shakespeare’s words are a staple in the English teacher diet, and that’s why it wasn’t a surprise when my year 12 students gifted me a gorgeous copy of his Collected Works in 2020. On receiving the gift, I admitted that I hadn’t read all of his plays and very few of his sonnets, so I dedicated myself to correcting that oversight. In typical me fashion, I decided that just reading the plays wasn’t enough – I should also blog a pithy, and probably irreverent, review of each play. As it turns out, that decision resulted in this – my name on the cover of a book about Shakespeare!
Having just published my book On Teaching for new graduates, I didn’t have any immediate writing plans ahead of me, but my publisher had other ideas. My co-author, Duncan, had written his half of this book and was on the look out for someone to finish it. When my publisher asked me if I was interested, my reaction probably won’t surprise you – I was terrified. Me, write a book about Shakespeare? Certainly not! That’s absurd. I was intimidated by the very idea. I didn’t feel up to the task at all. With no false modesty, I simply did not feel clever enough to do it. I told my publisher how I felt, and he asked me to read Duncan’s draft chapters before I made my final decision. I’m so glad he did that, because Duncan’s vision for the book was perfection – a book on Shakespeare written specifically for teachers – Australian teachers. A book that speaks directly to the intelligent, passionate, educated professionals that we are. I could tell it was a book I wanted to read – the book that I had always wanted to support, guide, and inspire my teaching of Shakespeare. Too often we have to choose between books on Shakespeare written for students, and those written by academics for academics. So, I put my hand up and stepped out of my comfort zone. And, well, here it is – Teaching Shakespeare in Australian Schools.
So, I guess you want to know what’s inside? This is, after all, meant to be a talk on teaching Shakespeare, not on writing about Shakespeare! Since this is meant to be a snappy presentation, I’m going to distil our 353-page book into 9 tips for teaching Shakespeare. Here we go!
1. Get active.
a. Each play chapter in our book has accompanying lesson plan ideas. They’re not complete – just kernels of possibilities. Almost all include an activity where students are up and active – out of their seats, engaging with the text using their bodies and voices. That sounds sort of chaotic, but if we remember that these plays were written for the stage and a rather rambunctious theatre, than we can lean into that creative chaos a little bit. Students can act out scenes – with the words or without, they can direct or block out a scene, consider stagecraft that supports the words and action.
2. Speak his words.
a. More often than not, the reason teachers feel anxious about teaching Shakespeare is the language. But, as my 15 year old self can attest to, it can also be what makes him memorable. Don’t shy away from challenging your students to speak aloud Shakespeare’s actual words. Even if it is just a line or two. I love to challenge students to memorise a sonnet – and it’s surprising how many students manage it!
b. Even Winston Smith, curtailed as he was in Oceania, woke up in the morning with the word Shakespeare on his lips.
3. Be selective.
a. It’s unlikely that you will have the time or the inclination to read through an entire Shakespeare play. In fact, we don’t include a single lesson plan that encourages that approach. Students’ learning time is precious thanks to our very packed English syllabus, so it is often more effective to choose key scenes, soliloquys or passages of dialogue to explore with students, rather than the whole text. You can fill in the narrative gaps with paratexts such as films, modern translations, or your own retelling.
b. Giving students a chance to compare the soliloquies or dialogue of two or more characters can be quite revealing and allow a deeper exploration of Shakespeare’s prowess as a playwright.
4. Connect.
a. These plays present problems. Ongoing problems. Problems to do with racism, classism, misogyny, homophobia… not to mention domestic violence, suicide, and murder.
b. But there is the beauty of life too – love, friendship, humour, nature, the night sky.
5. Question.
a. Encourage active inquiry and curiosity in your students. The plays spring to life when we interrogate them and the humanity they expose. Why did girls of 13 get married? Do they still? Is the love of a teenager as valued as the love of a couple married for 30 years? Does a parent have absolute authority over their children, even to the point of death? The questions, much like the possible answers, are endless.
6. Play.
a. If we spend a little time with a Shakespeare play – and one of them – we can find moments of levity and playfulness. Richard III is, for most people an open and shut case of megalomaniac evil. But who could deny how funny he is?
7. Find Shakespeare in his works.
a. Just like his works, Shakespeare himself is an enigma. Starting a unit of work with his biography immediately introduces a problem – who was Shakespeare? In short, we don’t know, but there is a good chance that we can find some answers in his work. He was a man interested in everything human – relationships, politics, meaning, death, reality, language, desire, love.
8. Embrace the ambiguity.
a. Each of Shakespeare’s plays is layered with contradiction, and counterpoint, infused with irony and an intermingling of contradictory images and ideas. This can confuse and frustrate students but remind them that it’s actually quite dazzling too.
b. I like to think that the ambiguity is entirely intentional – revealing Shakespeare’s inherent epistemic humility. He allows his works to be reimagined by others – even those in a far future time he will never know himself.
9. Enjoy the challenge.
a. One thing we stress in our book is that there is not right way to teach Shakespeare. The only really wrong way, I think, is to force students to swallow his words like some type of cultural medicine. It is tempting to do so, given his works are the only ones prescribed – like medicine – for students in the junior school. But, the genius of Shakespeare lies in his capacity to consider and capture a multitude of perspectives. It’s a good model to emulate.
As we worked on this book, Duncan and I bonded over a couple of shared loves – Shakespeare and The Beatles. Whilst we are so fortunate to be gifted a new Beatles song recently, it’s unlikely that we will get a new Shakespeare text. So, let’s breathe some new life and love into the works that we do have – hopefully our book helps you find a reason to feel energised about teaching the Bard.
BIG thanks to my best friend, Bimma, my amazing colleague Ben, and my hubby, Lee, for coming to support me. We even took silly photos together because the State Library is just too fun! Let me know if you buy our book – I really do wanna know that it’s useful for teachers. 🖤
I meant to write this post two weeks ago, but life intervened and so here it is now for you, over two weeks after the fact. On Monday 3rd July, Lee and I bundled into the car and headed south to Canberra. Lee was grumbly because he hates the cold and Canberra was aiming for a high of 4 degrees or something stupid like that. But he had agreed to brave the cold so I could meet my awesome co-author Duncan in person, and to sign some of our books should anyone turn up to our little somewhat impromptu event.
I feel like it was poetic that I first met Duncan whilst I was waiting on an Earl Grey – I can’t count how many cups of it I consumed whilst writing Teaching Shakespeare in Australian Schools. An obscene amount. Even before Duncan arrived in the cafe, I had bumped into my English teacher mate Jowen and my Masters supervisor, Jackie. Conferences are such funny places when you’re (too) connected online to people – it feels like you know everyone, or everyone knows you. I must confess that I have weird social anxiety issues at conferences where I forget how to behave like a normal human around people I don’t seen in-person regularly, and I end up sort of morphing into an annoying overzealous chatty puppy. I rarely manage to have a complete two sided conversation with anyone because I am buzzing with nervousness and energy – I’ll either steamroll the conversation with my jabbering, or I’ll just sort of go into myself and listen without contributing to whatever the other person is saying. Almost every interaction at a conference I leave thinking ‘they definitely think I’m an idiot or a weirdo or arrogant’.
Given that my purpose for attending AATE this time was to sign copies of my book with Duncan, I definitely felt more of the arrogant or self-important anxious thoughts haranguing me. Despite this, it was so lovely to see our books set up at the Paperchain bookstall in the main foyer of the conference. It was right near the tea and coffee stand, which made me smile. Duncan and I arranged with the lovely bookseller to set up a little stand for ourselves – a tall table with copies of our book piled on top (plus On Teaching) – and we just sort of stood there chatting, hoping people would approach us and want to buy a signed book. It certainly felt awkward! But, despite my fears that no one would be interested, we did get quite a few people coming up to chat and get books signed. (Thanks to Duncan being quite well known down in Canberra!) These interactions were genuinely delightful but also incredibly bizarre – what do you write in a book for a stranger? I couldn’t work out whether to write my full name or to sign my (illegible and silly) signature. Often I did both.
In hindsight, I struggled to get out of my own head during the book signing – I tried really hard to relax, and just enjoy it, but I was so worried people would think it presumptuous to expect anyone to want a book signed by me that I couldn’t really fully chill. It did help having Lee around – he was so kind and sweet and supportive. To try to relax, I ran over to annoy Will Kostakis who was trying to eat his lunch in peace at a nearby table. That was fun, as I’m sure you all know Will is an absolute legend and always up for some banter with dorky English teachers. I bought his latest book (finally) and left Lee with him for company, haha. I also enjoyed having my boss drop by to say hello and take a photo or two. She was down there with my other boss and our 2022 academic partners for a presentation on our project – Writing in Secondary. Very exciting to have our work being shared broadly. It was just so nice to see her in person, but again I’m pretty sure I just blabbed and smiled goofily – oh dear.
I did also sell a few copies of On Teaching and signed those too. Two young teachers – both still in uni – came and got a copy, and spoke with me about their teacher dreams and fears. It reminded me that there are real human beings who will be reading what I wrote about teaching, and that might actually need some of that advice. It made me feel all warm and gooey thinking that something I’ve shared about my teacher journey could help young teachers to navigate what can be a really complex first few years on the job. Well, I hope that I wrote something sensible in their books because – again – my brain went blank when holding the pen. Imagine writing a 40,000-word book on teaching and then struggling to think of a couple of sentences in a dedication! Yup, that’s me.
After the book signing was over, Lee and I headed to the workshop of our mate, Dr Kelli McGraw. I don’t know the title of the workshop, but I do know the premise – initial teacher educators (I don’t know the proper term and this one is in my head because of the Mark Scott paper, apologies Kelli!) sharing their key messages and tips for early career teachers… which were then put into the form of a zine! How cool. So when Lee and I arrived we found a small group of cool university teachers chatting about teaching teachers – really they were bonding over shared experiences and ways of thinking despite coming from different institutions across the country. Very cool. Then Kelli handed out paper and pens, and everyone continued to chat whilst transforming their ideas into zine pages. I’m excited to see the final product, which Kelli has promised to share at next year’s AATE where they will continue the dialogue and create another edition of the zine. A really creative idea, but that doesn’t surprise me because Kelli is the coolest.
We spent the evening with English teacher friends at dinner (where I did mange normal dialogue with other adults, thanks to a few drinks), and then long chats with Kelli into the wee hours of the morning. After a fairly shithouse start to 2023, I was pleased to put July 3rd in the very good day box.
Just last week I received a box that I have been waiting on for quite some time. It would be unfair to say I’ve been waiting on it for two years, but I had been looking forward to the day I’d get it for that long.
The worst part was, I knew I HAD to open the box with my in-laws beside me… and they weren’t home when it finally arrived! After patiently (not really) waiting for them to come home, I raced upstairs (they live above us) with the box and a knife. I probably looked more crazed than usual, but when I slit open the tape to reveal my latest book, well let’s just say it was all smiles. I wanted to share this moment with my in-laws because I wrote a little acknowledgement bit for them in the book because they have always been such huge supporters of me and also genuinely huge Shakespeare fans. Oh, I got ahead of myself there didn’t I? … what was in the box?
Ta da! My new book! I have written about it here previously, so you know that’s it’s co-authored with Dr Duncan Driver the super epic Aussie Shakespeare scholar. I absolutely LOVED writing my chapters for this book. I am SOOO excited for you all to read it. And by ‘you all’ I’m hoping someone reads this post and is excited to read it! I know I would find this book super useful when teaching Shakespeare – it’s the type of book I always wanted to have access to. Duncan’s vision was for a book that was written specifically for teachers – well-educated professionals who wished to teach Shakespeare and teach his works well. I know I always found it annoying that books were either written for students (sort of that Shakespeare for dummies type of book, with lots of plot summaries and stuff) or written for academics (too much jargon, very long-winded and often far too niche). But with our book we have hit the Goldilocks medium, I reckon. Or maybe that’s not a good analogy, because we didn’t even consider those two other audiences – it’s simply written for teachers. It’s engaging, funny (at times), insightful (well, Duncan’s parts are anyway), reflective, current and a little punk/edgy too. Oh, and it has lesson plans! 😉
So, I have a spare copy that I’d like to give away to a teacher who has to, or wants to, teach Shakespeare and is looking for some inspiration. You see, my awesome publisher, Michael, sent me 5 author copies, and after giving one to my in-laws, one to each of my parents (ah, divorced parents always costing us kids, lol) and keeping one for myself – that leaves one for you! Or at least for one of you! I’m going to make it super easy – just post a comment with your favourite Shakespeare quote and then I will randomly select from those who comment. Easy peasy!
If you would prefer to not play the game of chance and definitely want to secure your own copy, you can buy it online from Small Caps Publishing – here is the link: https://smallcapspublishing.com.au/shop/ols/products/teaching-shakespeare-in-australian-schools Our book will also be for sale at AATE which is in Canberra from 1st-4th July. In fact, I will be down in Canberra at AATE with Duncan signing copies of the book on Monday 3rd during the conference lunch break. If you’re heading down, please pop by and say hello – promise I won’t pressure you to buy a copy of the book! This will be the first education conference I have attended in ages (even if it’s just for a very small part) and I am both nervous and excited.
Well, that’s it for my promo blog post – apologies if it made your eyes roll, but I really am super, super proud of this book. I hope readers love it too. 💚
I started 2023 with such high expectations for myself and this blog. A New Years Day post about how joyous my 2022 had been. My hopes for the new year seem so far away from where I find myself today, almost half way through that promised year. The truth is the hardness of life has only ever lapped at my heels before this year, and I could always rely on myself to pull through, but this time the hardness was a flood and I lost myself in the despair others have more eloquently recorded so many times before me. As bewildering as it is, somehow I came back to myself and know now each day there is life in life and I will live it.
This blog, long neglected, I remember isn’t just a space for me, but those who read it. I often forget that my ramblings might have an audience – even a small one – but I was reminded recently by a lovely English teacher who was supporting my sister. She reminded me that these words are read (hello!). How odd that seems these days given I’m not in the classroom, but her acknowledgment (whilst making cheeks burn at the time) was the little kick up the bum I needed. So today, I write for me, and for whoever may still be reading.
One year ago, I published a book called On Teaching. Well, I didn’t publish it – my publisher Small Caps did. It’s probably my favourite book in my modest pile of books I’ve written so far. On Teaching was a germ of an idea back in September 2020, perhaps motivated by the chaos of COVID which had already changed teaching irrevocably. Perhaps then I knew it would end up being a teaching career memoir, and so I poured my heart into those pages for two years. I wonder in whose hands those words are now, and hope like hell that they’re of practical use to someone. If you think that could be you or someone you know, you can find it here:https://smallcapspublishing.com.au/shop/ols/products/on-teaching-for-new-graduates
In July last year, I was lucky enough to be invited to speak to pre-service teachers at the University of Sydney. It was one of the highlights of my year – having been out of the classroom for 18 months at that stage, it was so reviving to be back in a physical space with learners. I joyed in speaking about my teaching experiences and giving advice to these future educators made me remember why I still am an educator myself. Not only that, it was actually heaps of fun. I also got to meet Jaqueline Manuel, who is a true legend of English teacher education and actually one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. True to form (I’m a Capricorn after all), I found the experience so rewarding that I decided to push myself and explore restarting my Master of Education (Research) which I began and abandoned over a decade ago. And guess what? I am fortunate enough to have Jacqueline as my supervisor, as well as the incomparable Nicole Mockler. I told you 2022 was a good year for me.
So, now I find myself just finishing up my required coursework unit of study – just one is required for Masters students. Because I had already completed the introduction to research modules in 2011, I chose this time something related to my proposed research: Introduction to Key Thinkers for Cultural Studies. The unit was fantastic – it refreshed some things I already knew, but more importantly taught me new ideas, thinkers and skills for critical analysis. This learning has been a source of deep focus and escape when it felt like the hugeness of this fragile, ineffable human life might crush me. Over the next couple of weeks I’ll be writing my final essay, which will be related closely to my Masters work – I never like to waste words, so these ones will be useful again soon. I’ve shared below a screen shot of my current proposed thesis title. Second semester will see me focusing on those big, big ideas.
And just in case you thought I was slumbering between finishing On Teaching and beginning my studies, you’ll be relieved to know that I have co-written another book. I feel like it’s possibly the best one yet, and that’s likely because I only wrote (roughly) half of it. The genius of the book comes from my co-author, Shakespeare academic Duncan Driver. Did you guess the book’s topic? Of course it’s a book on Shakespeare. Perhaps I’ve posted here about it previously, I don’t know – maybe I did so in that merry 1st January post which I feel might be too painful to read again right now to check how much I’ve repeated myself here. If I have, please give me leave this time. Regardless, I am eager for the book to be in my hands, and maybe even in your hands, as I know if I was in the English classroom right now it would be a valued resource. Yep, I so believe that. So with that awkward self-congratulations, I will wrap up this somewhat haphazard post. Until the next one – may it not be 6 months hence.
Perhaps I have blocked out all the shitty parts (like everything related to COVID), but in all honesty 2022 was a pretty fantastic year for me. I can’t decide if it’s because I’m just being positive in hindsight, and that all years have their awesome qualities, or if 2022 really was exceptional in its own right. Regardless, I’m writing this post as a reminder of what was, with the hope that penning my gratitude for the brilliant bits will keep me focused on the good as I move into and through this new year.
Thinking about this year – and this post – earlier today, I realised that I haven’t written here about the publication of my book On Teaching. Perhaps I’ve referenced it, but I didn’t write a post devoted to it. To be honest, it made me reflect on how I’ve neglected writing in this space – apart from a couple of truncated drunken posts at high altitude – and I think I’ve missed it. Actually, a couple of weeks ago a lovely human who I had not met before approached me at a work thing and told me she loved my blog. It really just took me by surprise. I probably looked like a goldfish who’d been slapped by a piece of wet bread… just like unable to say much and sort of mouth gaping. My colleagues were bemused, I don’t think any even knew I had a blog, and I felt sort of embarrassed like an ego secret had been unveiled. But the compliment was genuine, and honestly reminded me that this is a space not just for me, but for the (very occasional) reader to (maybe?) get something (even just a giggle or an empathetic moment) from my ramblings. So, yeah, that’s what made me think about my latest book, On Teaching, cos it’s basically a collection of my ramblings about teaching… perhaps even the written closing of a chapter in my career as a teacher. Have you read it?
Besides publishing a new book, I completed the writing of another one – it’s a co-written book for teachers about Shakespeare – which interestingly I was given the opportunity to write because of my posts about Shakespeare’s plays right here on this blog. It should be out early this year, as it’s currently in the hands of my incredible editor. My desperation to write more – it really is an addiction – prompted me to initially pitch another book idea to my publisher, but he wisely told me to sit on it for a while. Of course, I tend not to listen to sage advice and another chance opportunity has lead me to some further study at Sydney Uni in 2023 which will (hopefully) ultimately lead to the publication of that next book – fusing two of my passions, but I can’t give any more information about that just yet.
Aside from my writing projects being fertile and fruitful in 2022, my home life was full of beautiful growth and change. We lumbered ourselves with our first mortgage purely for the joy of supporting our eldest son’s blossoming – seeing him move out of home and into that new property with his girlfriend was one of the proudest experiences of my life. My youngest worked hard (enough) in his final year of schooling and was rewarded by impressive results in his HSC. I’ll never forget our gasps in unison when his ATAR finally popped up on screen after an anxious, but also perfect, delay thanks to the UAC site being swamped by thousands of similarly anxious teens. He’s still trying to decide how to ‘spend’ his unexpected boon of ‘points’, but quickly realising that the higher the points, the more boring and linear the degrees. That’s my boy. Other highlights of the year were our two trips to Cairns – especially our October trip with the whole family. It was extra special because both our sons are adults now – oh yeah, two more amazing things being their 18th and 21st birthdays. I’ve had those events – only two weeks apart – in my imagination since the year Baz was born. 42 with an 18 and 21 year old. I couldn’t really imagine it, except for the silly image of a huge shared party – completely dumb though considering Lee and I are pretty introverted people, hence our children are too. The party was very small and perfect, 18 years of imagining could never have conjured it as it was.
For me though, just for like the secret, private me, the one that’s there always, the one I am always alone with, well, she got therapy in 2022. It was quite literally life-changing. After a bundle of life bits and pieces pushed its weight a little heavier than usual, I found myself sobbing on the phone to my GP and getting a referral to a psychologist to provide me with some CBT. Whilst it was only six sessions (I kept telling myself I’d go back after different events passed), they have given back myself – or even maybe given me a new self? I think Maynard James Keenan says it best in 46+2, I think I found myself stepping through my shadow and coming out the other side. I certainly am not perfect or healed or whatever it is that people see as end game for mental health treatment, but I think that teleological idealism is a false narrative anyway. I just know now that I am, that I can, that I will, and that I want to be me. I’ve got strategies that actually work to cope when I’m anxious – the main one is that I know I can call up and book an appointment with my therapist and start working consciously on self shit at any point that I feel myself slipping out of myself. It’s a really, really good feeling. And so now I’m a therapy pusher. I’ve got my best friend going, and I’m nagging my dad to give it a go but so far unsuccessfully. It’s probably one of the things I’m most proud of doing in 2022, and it’s probably the choice to prioritise myself in this way that lead to so many other really great moments over the year too.
I told myself that this year I’m going to write a blog post every day. It’s unlikely that I will, and I’m saying that now because I want to be kind to myself when I don’t achieve some task or goal that I’ve set. Perfectionism can be a bitch. So, let me just say, that if you’ve made it this far, if you’ve read this much of my self-indulgent, pat-myself-on-the-back drivel, well you might get to read more of it this year than last year. Perhaps.
Last time that I wrote a post here, I was drunk on a flight to Cairns. Well guess what mutherfuckers?! Yep. Air bound and feeling ready to over-share.
If you’re a Twitter person you’ll know that I’ve been AWOL for some time now. The concept of ‘some time’ is relative – subjective, even – but for me it means more than a couple of weeks. I mean, I think it has been. Probably closer to a month of detoxing from that anxiety prison. I wish I could say that it’s been a hard time, but honestly it hasn’t. Is that a reflection of my settled mental health, or more a reflection on the curse that Twitter is as a social media platform? I literally don’t know the answer.
So why bother blogging right now? Obviously the synchronicity of the last post, but also my sense of commitment to disengagement from a space that doesn’t seem to reflect who I am now. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps my current non-teaching role, or maybe the peace of mind I currently have. I’ve never felt so at peace. I’m not worried about the content that I have or haven’t produced. I do fret a little about the future. The looming question of WHO AM I doesn’t elude me a single day. Not a single day. But… I’m here. I’m a cliche. I’m this: I am, I am, I am. I’m reading. Not always the classics, often the junk (regency romance is my bag) but it’s giving me mental space. I feel like next year could be my year.
I’m wavering between academia, non-fiction, and fiction. I’ve got ideas. I need spurs. Prick me, will you? Haha. Without Twitter, I have to trust myself. I trust that this experience is liberating and terrifying. Not sure why anyone would give a shit, but here I am sharing that story anyway.
It’s been so very, very long since I’ve written a post on this blog. I suppose my only (accidental) readers are those who have subscribed long ago (Digital Revolution anyone?) and those bored enough on their school holidays to click the link to this post. So why am I writing here, for you few readers? Well, I suppose I can blame Lady Whistledown… right not I’m on a plane bound for Cairns, watching Bridgerton to distract me from my catastrophising. Oh, anxiety don’t you love it? Well, she’ll be appearing again soon in this random post whether you love her or hate her.
It turns out I don’t have an answer to my titular question. I don’t know who I am. Or maybe I don’t know who others think I am… or even what I am. Human, yes. Always. But given my change in role over the last 18 months, I’m not sure who I am, or where I’m going. I once was known – right here on this very blog – as a teacher. But am I? I just don’t feel included in that role anymore. It’s so very weird. TBH, I’ve been drinking some rather lovely sparkling wine and I’m way up above the clouds (literally) so I guess that’s got me pondering and just vomiting these thoughts. If I’m in a non school based teacher position… am I really a teacher? And what does it even mean to be a teacher? And why do I care so damn much?
Chatting to my psychologist (yes, I actually have one because 16 years of teaching can really fuck a gal up), and she got me thinking about who I am. Or at least how I define my identity. Stupidly I wrote teacher first out of everything. I can’t stop thinking about that unconscious slick of the pen. Why write that above mother, wife, author, human?! I guess that’s what teaching does to us, right? It just takes over our very being. And when you’re not in the classroom anymore… what then? I literally don’t know.
I do know that any time I speak about school I start to get very teary and a bit jittery. That’s anxiety again. The bitch. Super dumb, but I can’t help remembering how it felt to be there and how useless, ineffective, overwhelmed and (honestly) scared that I felt being in that space. I knew I had lost it. I dunno what ‘it’ is but it was gone. Proper gone. Maybe it was hope, optimism, joy, passion… who knows?
So I got an escape and I really feel valued in my current role but it’s not *me* forever. I don’t know who I am, or where I’m going. I don’t know if I’ll return to the classroom even though I fucking love being with teenagers and I cry… literally cry… to be back in the classroom with them. I don’t think that’s going to be viable. Not any time soon. So where to next, right? I don’t know. I really, really don’t know.
Who am I? Where am I going? What will be my contribution to the world? *Shrugs shoulders; glugs sparkling wine*
Hey guys! This is going to be a super short post. I know I haven’t written here in AGES – there are three reasons for this. Shall I share them? OK, I will. Firstly, in 2021 I was working in a non-school based teaching position with the Department of Education. For public school teachers in NSW, this will be known as ‘going corporate’. I wrote about my reasons here in January last year. I’ve actually really enjoyed the role (but missed the students) and have signed up for a second year. I’ll be back to school in 2023, for sure. So, basically I didn’t have any school-related posts to write. I also was unsure how much of my new role people would care about. Secondly, I was writing/editing my new book called On Teaching – it’s sort of for new teachers but also for anyone, full of anecdotes and tips about all stuff to do with being and becoming a teacher. Thirdly, I was writing my next book on Shakespeare for Australian teachers – if you read my blog posts here reviewing Shakespeare’s plays, that led to this book! Crazy, right?! So I never finished those posts because I started on the book.
Now that I’ve given my excuses, I’d like to ask a BIG favour. Tomorrow is my 42nd birthday. I never really bother about birthday presents, just happy to spend time with my family and maybe eat some good food. For this year, I’m actually going to ask for a present – from you! This may seem super forward of me, but allow me to explain. I’d really like it if you would donate to my nephew’s Go Fund Me. At the very beginning of 2021, Cohen was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. They got the big tumour from his leg but unfortunately it spread to his lungs. He absolutely LOVES Japan, and we are desperately trying to raise money to get him there whilst he is stable – the doctors have told us the sooner he goes the better. Charities like Make A Wish aren’t sending children overseas right now because of COVID. We have to raise the money ourselves.
So, if I’ve ever written a post, shared a resource or run a workshop/presentation that’s helped you, it would be SOOO cool if you would maybe give a little ‘gift’ to Cohen as a thank you. It would mean so much to me. I hate to ask, but this is what I am willing to do to help my nephew achieve his dream.
Bianca Hewes 