Garth Dutton

The Relief Teacher (Part 2) – A Short Story

The Relief Teacher (Part 2)
© Garth Dutton 2008
   
A student in the middle of the class attracted Carol’s attention, so she asked her to speak. The student began… “I’m Ana, and I’m of Portuguese descent. In Portuguese we have a quite different word for the environment. It is called ‘o ambiente’. The word ‘ambient’ also exists in English. We came across it in Physics, when we discussed the ‘ambient temperature of the room.’ So in Portuguese, ‘o ambiente’, is something everyone is in all of the time. You can’t not be in it. ‘Environment’ is related to the French word ‘environs’. Mum and Dad have an “Adelaide and Environs” street directory in their car. The environs of Adelaide are places like Willunga, Gawler, Bridgewater, and so on. So in English the ‘environment’ is something that is ‘out there’. She pointed out of the classroom window to the hills. It’s a quite different conception of reality to ‘ambiente’. Also, in Portuguese, the term is masculine. Many people who speak English think of ‘the environment’ as being feminine.”
   
Carol thanked her. “You’ve certainly given us something to think about,” she said.

    John, who hadn’t said anything yet, put up his hand, and when given acknowledgment to speak, said. “I’m John, and last Christmas I went with Mum and Dad up to see my aunt and uncle in Queensland. On the way we drove through the Pilliga Forest in Northern New South Wales. Dad said that once it used to be all grassland, and isolated trees, but now it’s grown into a huge, tall, dense forest. The reason is that aboriginal people used to burn the land to keep it open kangaroo country, but once they were killed off or put in reserves, the trees took over.” He paused for effect. Then he continued. “So the forest has grown by people not doing something… burning. So is it therefore a ‘natural’ forest, or a man-made one?
“
There was a short silence, then Tan spoke, again in a rather tentative halting English. “I’m still thinking about Waikiki Beach,” she said. “It has to be a natural beach, because people didn’t create the sand. They only moved the sand from one place to another. Nature created the sand.”

Alan took up her point. “Supposing they only dumped the sand at one end of the bay, and let natural processes like waves, tides and wind spread it to make the beach. Would it be natural or man-made?”

Alice caught Carol’s attention, and said. “Miss, I object to the term, ‘man-made.’ Could we use ‘person-made’ instead. In third world countries plenty of women work on construction projects.”

Jenny interjected. “But sometimes some problems are ‘man-made’, like the extermination of whales. Of all the millions of them wiped out in the past 400 years, how many would have been killed by women… probably none…” Carol recalled seeing a Greenpeace sticker on Jenny’s bag when she entered the classroom. She realized the lesson would be running out of time shortly, so brought the class’ attention back to herself.

“I’ve thought of one,” Carol said. “Last year, I went up to the Flinders Ranges, and visited one of the National Parks up there. These types of Parks have been set up to preserve the ‘natural environment’. But suppose one ranger lives in the Park. It then has one human inhabitant, so isn’t it part of the ‘Human Environment’?”

Another thought came to her. “Suppose we agreed that no-one live there, and it remained a wilderness without people. But we became proud of what we had done by setting up such a Park, and it became part of our culture. Isn’t it then still a part of the ‘Human Environment.”

Con took up her point. “Mr. Smith showed us a video earlier in the year about the Amazon Rain Forest, and the Native American peoples living there. They live in villages scattered here and there throughout the forest. They are people, too, so by the definitions on the board it would have to be part of the ‘Human Environment,” he said.

Since raising the problem of the beach, Rob had said nothing, just listened to the discussion with a self-satisfied look on his face. He could see that they were running out of time for the lesson, so said. “The only term that has any meaning in this context is ‘Environment’, or ‘ambiente’ as you call it, Ana. If you use ‘Human and Natural’; or ‘Natural’ and ‘Man-made’; or ‘Natural and ‘Person-changed’; or whatever, it is…” He searched for a term and found it. “Logically unsustainable!” The class and the teacher agreed with him.

Rob continued. “The question is, Miss Jansen, what is going to happen to this information now we have arrived at this conclusion?”

Carol thought about that. She saw she would need to do something with the information. She decided to be quite honest with the class.

“I’ll certainly take it up with other teachers here at the school,” she said. On further consideration, she continued. “And the content of the lesson I can bring to the attention of the Geography Teachers’ Association. You could also write a class letter to Dr David Suzuki in Canada, or Sir David Attenborough in England, or both. I am a member of Friends of the David Suzuki Foundation, so I already have his address. You could write to the ABC, or the British High Commission in Canberra, to get an address for Sir David. Perhaps you could also send a class letter to the State and Federal Ministers for Environment.” The class seemed very satisfied by that.

“In the few minutes left, could you copy down the definitions etc. on the board,” said Carol. There was a murmur from the class. They did not seem too happy with the suggestion.

Jenny gave a sigh, and put up her hand. “Do we really need to copy down those things,” she said. “Now that we have seen it set out like that, it is self-evident… A single category, “Environment”, is the only one that makes any sense at all. Is there anyone in the class who can’t see that?”

There was silence in the room. The bell rang.

“Right,” said Carol. “Write your own summaries for homework. Thanks for a great lesson.” There was a murmur of assent from the class, and they began to pack up their books and bags.

Gina gave the chalk back to Carol. “Oh…also…” Gina said. “The Water Cycle… Evaporation from the sea, clouds, rain, run-off, rivers back to the sea…is self-evident, too, once you have seen the diagram once, and worked your way through it. Yet each year, it is taught as if it is a very difficult concept to grasp.” She smiled, and then said confidentially
“Actually Mr. Smith is quite a good teacher. We are seen as a very ‘mixed-ability’ class. Rob, Alan and Jenny pick up everything first go. The rest of us have to work on it. Some have a poor command of written work, or English. Mr. Smith has a problem, in that, if he keeps on giving extra work to those three, who always finish first, then they will get further and further ahead of the rest of the class. But if he doesn’t, they get bored and start doing stupid things.”

“I know the problem,” said Carol.

Gina continued. “Lately, he’s taken to getting those three to help others who haven’t grasped the concept concerned. At first, they considered others slower than themselves as ‘thick’, and didn’t like doing so. Now they are getting used to helping. I think we will all pass this subject this year.” She said this last sentence with emphasis. Then she went to get her bag and books. “Bye” she said.

“Thanks very much for being my scribe!” called out Carol as Gina left the room.

Rob had been writing something on the board while Carol was involved speaking to Gina. He had written ‘Please Leave” at the top, and underlined it several times. Underneath the details, he had written. “This concept, ‘beach’, makes the dual categories logically unsustainable”

“We might need it next Geography lesson,” he said with a smirk, and was gone.

Clive, the teacher of English, walked into the classroom. He scanned the material on the board, and said. “Fascinating stuff! Mind if I use it as part of my lesson. The problem of accurately defining things in English! A good example!” His students started to arrive.

“Seems like you had a good lesson,” he said.

Carol agreed, as she packed up her books and papers. She had her only free lesson for the day next, and needed a cup of coffee. “I’m a relief teacher, and they didn’t give me a hard time!” she said with a smile.

“Then it has to have been a good lesson, whether they learned anything or not,” said Clive. He looked at the blackboard again, and said, “I think they probably did. Have you got another class now?”

She shook her head. “The class I should have is on a full morning’s science excursion,” she replied.

“Would you like to sit in on the whole, or part of, an English class,” he asked. “You could explain a few more details about this.” He indicated towards the information on the board.

The prospect of a cup of coffee receded. “Fine,” Carol replied. She hadn’t yet taken an English class for relief teaching. It would be good experience to sit in on one.

Clive settled down his class, and said. “We have a visitor today… Miss Jansen… And we have a surprise. We are going to begin today’s English lesson by talking about the beach.”

Tags: author, Environment, garth dutton, geography, Prose, short story, teacher

The Relief Teacher (Part 1) – A Short Story

This is a short story on an environmental theme in two parts. It is called “The Relief Teacher” and it is based on a geography class that went exceptionally well when I was an adult student teacher doing teaching practice as part of my Graduate Diploma of Education in the 1990′s.

Part two will be published tomorrow

The Relief Teacher (Part 1)
© Garth Dutton 2008

Carol approached the classroom where she would be teaching, and it was noisy. Most students were still standing up talking. She walked in, then she said, “Would you all please take your seats, please!”

    “Who are you?” called out one student. “Where’s Mr. Smith?” asked another.

    Carol picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote ‘Miss Jansen’ on the blackboard. She then gestured for the students to be silent. “I am Miss Jansen. I am a relief teacher. You usual teacher, Mr.Smith, is away sick today, so you are having me for your geography lesson today instead. He may be back tomorrow, so I hope you’ll all be well-behaved and co-operative for me. We have a lot to get through in one lesson.”

    A murmur went through the class, and mixed with it, Carol distinctly heard the phrase, “She expects us to work!” She noted the sentiment, but did not visibly respond to it. Instead she said, “Right! Now I believe you have just done a section on the Sahel region of Africa and desertification. Am I correct? A brief description of what you have done, please…”

    Alan, who sat at the right hand side front of the class, at a desk by himself, put up his hand. Carol indicated for him to answer. He said, “I’m Alan,” and he gave a brief, but very good summary, of what had been done. She thanked him.
   
Carol found that she was starting to get the feel of this class. She perceived that Alan might be the type of student who picked up ideas and concepts very quickly, but there were quite a few other students in the class who appeared to not want to be there at all.

Jenny and Alice, who sat a few desks further back from Alan, were busily engaged in whispering to each other.

Carol motioned for them to stop. “If you have anything to say about the topic, please say it to the class. If it is just gossip left over from recess time, leave it until lunch-time!”

Jenny gave a pained smile, and said with a touch of sarcasm. “That topic Alan described gave us all compassion fatigue.”

The students’ attention instantly focused on Carol. How would the relief teacher respond to a remark like that?

Carol replied. “Environmental problems of that scale do cause some people to lose heart. That is why, instead of going straight on with environmental problems in first world countries, we are going to look at our conceptions of the environment generally, in this lesson.” The news did not go down all that well with the class.

One student put up his hand. “Hi, I’m Rob,” he said. “Please Miss Jansen, some of us have done “The Environment” every year since Year 1. This is year 10… And every time it is done, it is done as if we have never heard of the topic before. We’ve had it up to here!” He put his hand under his chin. “Boring!” he remarked, and left it at that.

Carol saw an opening that might make this lesson quite worthwhile. She decided to take a chance with this class. She smiled and said. “Very well, then… How do you think the topic of ‘Environment’ should be taught at Year 10 level?”

There was a momentary silence in the classroom, then a loud murmuring amongst the students.

“Right!” said Carol. “You can have four minutes to discuss it amongst yourselves, but at working level of noise only, please.”

She suddenly thought to herself. “Whoops, I haven’t marked the student roll yet.” The roll book was on her desk, so she opened it.

“Who isn’t here today that is supposed to be?” she asked the class. Most of them ignored the question. Alan, however, scanned the classroom. Then he called out to Alice and Jenny. “Where’s Samantha, and Rita?”

“At the Interschool Basketball Competition, of course,” said Alice to Alan, rather than the teacher. “Don’t you know we are in the quarter-final.”

“Is that all who are away,” said Carol, finding Samantha’s and Rita’s names on the roll, and marking them accordingly.

“Yes!” said Alan, leaning back on his chair. Carol glared at him momentarily. He got the message, and sat properly at his desk.

When the four minutes were up, Carol said. “Right, let’s start the discussion. Who is going to make the first contribution?” There was complete silence in the classroom.

Then Rob spoke, without putting his hand up first. “How can we answer it? We don’t know you well enough to know what kind of answers you expect.”

Carol considered, then wrote at the top of the blackboard,

A murmur went around the class for they really didn’t know how to take what she had written. They lapsed into silence wondering what to do next.

    One student, Tan, who sat at the back of the class, looked like she might have something to say. Carol looked expectantly at her, and said with a smile. “Yes! Did you have something to say to start the discussion?”

    The students’ eyes turned to Tan, who then said hesitatingly. “My name is Tan. People here see all the problems as coming from the Human Environment, not the Natural Environment. But in parts of Asia people have been growing rice for thousands of years. It’s the big timber companies that are clearing the hill and mountain forests, not farmers. It is the loggers’ actions that are causing erosion and damage to farmers’ fields by seasonal droughts and floods in the lowlands.”

    Carol gave her a smile, as well as verbal thanks, and erased the categories OWN ANSWERS – EXPECTED ANSWERS from the board. She replaced those titles with,

Under the first category she wrote ‘forests’ and under the second category she wrote ‘farming land’. Then she said to Tan. “Do you agree with putting them in those categories?” Tan nodded agreement. Carol said. “The particular issue you mentioned will be discussed in considerable detail in term four.”

    Gina, who sat right at the front of the class, near the teacher’s desk, raised her hand a little. Carol indicated for her to speak, and half turned to the board in anticipation of what she was about to say.

The student said, “My name is Gina, and please Miss Jansen, can I be your scribe? So you don’t have to keep turning your back on the class to write on the board.”

    Carol was quite surprised. She was not quite sure what to do. She was relatively new to relief teaching, and had never had that kind of offer of help before.

    “Certainly,” she replied, and handed the chalk to Gina as she came to the blackboard. Then Carol said. “Would you like to tell the class your contribution, Gina, before writing it on the board?”

    “Could I just write it on the board, please, Miss Jansen?”  Carol nodded agreement, and Gina wrote ‘lakes’ under Natural Environment, and ‘dams’ under Human Environment.

    Other students then made their contributions until there was quite a list for each category. All the students now followed Alan’s, Rob’s, Tan’s, and Gina’s lead and introduced themselves by name first, even though they knew that Carol could not hope to learn 24 names in one or two lessons. Carol tried hard to make sure as many students as possible had something to say.

    During this time, Rob had assumed an air of complete detachment from the discussion. Now he leaned back on his chair, put his hands behind his head, and said. “Miss, I’ve got a problem!” The class burst into laughter.

    Carol gestured for them to be quiet, but three or four girls continued whispering and giggling. Carol glared at them, and waited for them to stop. She thought to herself how glad she was that sex education was not one of the topics she taught. She gestured for Rob to continue, but told him to sit properly on his chair.

    Rob said theatrically. “The problem is, of course, with the topic, not my personal life.” He brought his chair down to level again with a bang, gave one loud thump of his fist on the desk, and said loudly. “I give you the problem of… the beach!”

He then assumed an air of complete self-satisfaction, for having thrown a conceptual ‘spanner in the works’.

The class considered in silence. Then Gina spoke. “Surely I’d have to put it in both categories, wouldn’t I, Miss Jansen?”

    Gina looked across at Alan, who took up her point. “Hmmm,” said Alan, with a look that suggested that he was giving the matter deep consideration. Then in a Sherlock Holmes-type voice, he said. “Obviously, a beach is part of the Human Environment during the day when there are people there, and goes back to being part of the Natural Environment at night when everyone has gone home.”

    Con, who had not made any contribution to the discussion so far, said, “In Greece, there are some beaches that are crowded with thousands of tourists in summer, but deserted in winter when it is very cold. So surely, the beach is part of the Human Environment in one season, summer, and goes back to being part of the Natural Environment in winter… oh, and I’m Con, by the way.”

    Jenny was waving her hand in the air, so Carol acknowledged. “I’m called Jenny!” she said. “My brother Rick and I stay with our Dad during school holidays. Last year Dad took us to Disneyland, and on the way back we stopped over for two days in Honolulu. Waikiki Beach there is a man-made beach. It used to be a mangrove swamp, and all the sand was carted there from somewhere else on the island.”
   
“Good point,” said Carol thoughtfully, and then she asked the class. “Could it ever be part of the Natural Environment if it was a man-made feature like that?”

    Alan laughed. “What about a man-made desert then? Try telling a sand dune it can never be a part of the Natural Environment.”

    “I think I’ve got a solution,” Miss Jansen, said Gina. She had written ‘beach’ between the two categories. Carol considered, and borrowed the chalk. Above the word ‘beach’ she wrote the single word ‘Environment’. “Does that solve the problem?” she asked the class.

    “Yes”, said Gina, and others. Carol thanked her.

Tags: author, Environment, garth dutton, geography, Prose, story

No Second Chance – A Short Story

No Second Chance
© Garth Dutton, 2009

The only time they ever saw each other was at a kindergarten playgroup. Each brought their own small child. Attraction grew over a period of time, though it was rarely expressed by more than an acknowledgement of each other by eyes, and the hint of a fleeting smile.

They spoke in soft silences, under the ever watchful eyes of others. Occasionally they had brief conversations before their children recognised the threat to their own individual affection and attention. Then it would be children dragging adults separate ways to swings or painting, any kind of separate activities.

Each week, they left the meaningful silences of the kindergarten for the hostile silences of other relationships. This went on for some time…

He acknowledged that she was having a difficult time of things, and she thought it helpful to say that he had courage to bring his child to the playgroup, for by doing so, he was openly advertising that he was not employed.

The relationship between them thereafter became progressively strained. She was bitter that an expected offer was not forthcoming, and began, step by step, to distance herself from him.

He felt her draw back, and at first he could not understand why. It came to him, painfully and slowly, that his entire approach had been wrong. He thought he had done all the right things, but now he saw that wasn’t so.

To show that he found her attractive had been a step forward on his part. She had acknowledged that she too was attracted. Almost against his will, he had taken a second step forward, for at all times he was with her all his best qualities had been on display. It remained for her to assess him, and decide if she was interested in taking the relationship further. The relationship had stalled, for as he waited for her to take that second step, she waited on him to take another step forward.

For a moment he pretended he was someone else. How then would he have proceeded? His painful enlightenment began. Attraction, then he would have to frame some very positive verbal offer. But he saw that if such an offer was angrily rejected, his whole position bringing his child there would be under threat. In any case, his financial circumstances ruled out most offers he could think of. But he saw it would have to be done.

The next week, when they came to playgroup, she could see he was visibly trying to frame an offer to her. She was surprised. It seemed so out of character, almost false. All of a sudden, the colour drained from her face. For the first time she realised that what had been going on between them was as visible to the adults present as it was to the children, and always had been. She thought of how well he treated her and realised that by doing so he was making an offer anyway. She simply hadn’t recognised it as such.

She made herself a cup of coffee, then took her child out to the sandpit to play. She talked with other mothers, but her mind was elsewhere. It came to her that she would need to respond with some word of gesture or the relationship would be at an end. To just take his hand for a moment, a quick kiss, or a whispered “I love you,” would be enough, and the relationship would progress rapidly to consummation.

She avoided contact with him, while she battled with herself about what to do. Sadly she came to realise hat her background had won. There was no way she could bring herself to take the necessary step, no matter how much she wanted to. In her culture, the man had to take the lead all the way.

As the session finished, they had eye contact. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, but with such finality, that he realised there could be no second chance. She could never go there again, so poured her heart out to the Director of the kindergarten, who arranged for her child to be enrolled in another kindergarten in nearby suburb.

He went home broken-hearted and tried to rationalise that both their circumstances were such that nothing had been possible anyway. That night, he watched the evening T.V. news. There were local items and some for overseas, including one from his homeland. And in his heart he was there, not here.

Tags: author, garth dutton, Prose, short story, story

Library – A Short Story

Here is a romantic short story with a nice twist at the end of it called “Library”, I hope you like it.

Library
© Garth Dutton, 2000

Jim was busily working on the Internet at the local library, when a soft female voice said to him, “Hi! The girl behind the counter tells me you’re a poet, too.”

“Yes! “ he replied. “I do write some.” He finished the sentence he was writing and glanced up. A woman dressed in T-shirt, jeans and sandals was standing there. He thought her blonde hair looked a bit untidy, but then he remembered it was a warm, but very windy spring day outside.

“Do you write yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Though I haven’t had many poems published yet. Since my divorce last year, I’ve decided to become a writer. I’m starting with poetry, but I soon hope to be writing short stories and articles as well. I also have a vague idea for a novel.”

At this point, Jim became aware of the passing of time. He’d had more incoming emails than expected today, and quite a few of them needed a reply. His hour on the computer was already half gone. But she didn’t move, and seemed to want to talk on…

“My name is Janet, by the way,” she said.

“I’m Jim,” he replied. “I’m divorced and working at becoming a writer, too. I also write songs. I have a microphone and amplifier set-up and I mostly play around the scene at folk clubs, barbeques and parties. Some are paying jobs, some aren’t, but I have to get known somehow. I do a mixture of ‘covers’ and my own material.”

“I’ve never tried writing a song,” said Janet. “I think it would be difficult, as I don’t play guitar at all. I was taught piano as a child, but that was all classical stuff and written notes.”

“Maybe you should try singing one of your own poems unaccompanied, as a beginning,” suggested Jim. “That’s how I started writing my own songs. I really like the Canadian songwriter, Joni Mitchell, as her songs sound just as great sung or recited. A pity about all the unusual tunings she uses on guitar, though. I do a few of her songs unaccompanied, as I only know standard tuning.”

He was painfully aware that his time on the computer was rapidly slipping away. There was no way now that he would get through all his remaining email replies.

Janet noticed his impatience, : Sorry,” she said, sadly. “I’m interrupting you, aren’t I?  And just when you’re very busy.”

A thought came to him that the girl behind the counter had been doing some matchmaking. He smiled at the thought, and Janet thought he was smiling at her. She smiled back. “Whoops!” he said silently to himself.

A good idea occurred to him. “I’m playing a few songs at a friend’s birthday party on Friday evening. It’s just an informal backyard show. Would you like to come along?”

“Certainly!” she replied. “And can I bring my children as well?”

Tags: author, garth dutton, Prose, short story, Writing

The First Post (Of Many)

My name is Garth Dutton and I’m a writer, musician and avid environmentalist. This site is my attempt to share my thoughts, feelings and experiences and to network with other like minded individuals from around the world.

I write songs, poetry, haiku, short stories and novels. However, I also love writing about the environment. Sometimes what I write is pretty straight-forward while other things are controversial and confronting for some.

Welcome to my website and feel free to contact me about anything you find. I love a good conversation.

Tags: Environment, Garth, garth dutton, haiku, Music, Poetry, Prose, songwriter, songwriting, writer, Writing