They tumble from the bus like words onto a page with high hopes and a little reticence. Girls with sleeping bags and mp3 players, boys with crazy dye jobs and pillows under their arms assemble, laughing and bantering, on the impossibly green lawns surrounding the lake. Some of them are returning for their fourth consecutive year, others are new to the camp and, indeed, secondary school.
This year there are 97 kids - 75 girls and the rest boys, not an unusual situation for a creative activity. These kids have come here to take part in the annual arts and writing camp, now in its fourteenth year, pioneered and facilitated by the prolific writer/song writer/ teacher Barry Carozzi. I am a relative newcomer, this being my fourth year as a song writing workshop presenter and musician.
Irymple Secondary College - just out of Mildura - came painfully to the public's attention in 2006 when six Mildura teenagers were killed in a horrific hit and run accident. Some of the young people had strong ties to the school. We arrived that year to a grieving school community; the writing born of that camp was particularly moving. And this is why we come - to encourage them to tease out the deeper parts of their minds and to find expression through various forms of writing and art.
Over the next two days and nights they will write poetry and haiku with Melbourne poet Myron Lysenko and short stories and autobiographical pieces under the gentle guidance of published writer/editor/teacher Lena Pasqua. They will write songs with Barry and me and, this year, they will create natural sculptures. There is also a contemporary song and rap workshop, led by Ryan. This young man was a student at ISC and a "long termers" at writers' camp. Ryan is now at Teachers' College and it is uplifting to see this "handing down" of skills.
Here, we have the luxury of not being the teachers. We don't have to stay up all night telling the overexcited kids to "Shoosh!" We don't have to discipline the unruly or deduce the culprit of the giant toothpaste heart on the bathroom wall. The dedicated ISC teachers come and go in shifts, lead by the big-hearted and highly entertaining Bill Sauer. A kinder teacher you would be hard pressed to find. These teachers volunteer to come, and as well as overseeing the students they participate in the workshops as enthusiastically as the kids. Jonesy, the maths teacher, pointed out how important reading and writing skills are, right across the curriculum. "If a child can"t read properly how can they understand the questions in any of their text books?'
The kids chatter and scramble to bags their bunks and plonk down onto the floor for the first session. "Housekeeping" over, we introduce ourselves and the first activity, blues song writing, and write a song with all 97 of them! Then we split them into 8 random "pods", each comprising of students who may be strangers to each other. Each pod writes a blues song, the kids brainstorm and laugh and nobody cares if they don't have perfect pitch when it comes to singing. They applaud each other and the room buzzes with excitement.
Over the next three days, much emotional ground will be covered. We will hear funny stories, angst ridden poetry, moving autobiographical pieces, angry songs and love songs. We will hear stories of friendship, abandonment and loneliness. We will be their coaches and cheerleaders as they write, never censoring but often steering them out of their adolescent preoccupation with bodily functions and into something a little bigger, challenging them to step out from their hiding places. Some workshops are easy: the writing flows. Later in the days, post lunch, diminishing energy levels and the soaring, desert fringe heat see us working extra hard to extract anything more than a groan. And the kids rise valiantly to the challenge.
Even though I am a fairly brave person, normally the thought of overseeing 97 kids squashed into a mess hall yelling and jumping up and down would terrify me but it's all part of the fun at Myron and Lena's Poetry and Music Quiz. This year he has brought a small trophy as some repeat campers have already made disdainful mention of last years' trophy - a piece of plastic bread. But they remember it! They sing the funny blues songs they have created in their pods to each other and are again encouraged by huge applause.
Everything they write will be compiled into a booklet when they return to school; many of these pieces will be read, sung or played at the Thursday night concert. Because of the huge jump in attendance this year the Lake Cullulleraine Annual Concert has had to undergo some necessary changes to the usual format of each student reading at least one piece they have produced while at camp. Lacking the time for that, we allocated ten minutes to each pod with a recommendation that they perform one piece from each of the workshops: my sacred object, a song (from either of the workshops), a story and a poem. Performance workshops are also a part of the camp curriculum.
Thursday night arrives too quickly. In the dorms boys leap off bunks onto mattress safety-nets and throw dirty socks at each other; girls dance and practice their songs while they braid and straighten their hair. In the mess hall the dining tables are folded up and the PA is assembled. Passing sunset ducks with fire on their wings provide a magnificent backdrop. To one side of the performance space various natural sculptures are displayed on the old piano; mud men point their willow arms, a pair of clay dragonflies hover next to a neatly crafted grass skirt.
One by one they take the microphone and perform their pieces, having gained the confidence while in this safe and supportive environment. They read or sing in cracking voices about love and loss, family violence and not belonging. They have us falling about as they belt out funny poems and they mesmerise us with fantastic and moving stories and scraps of descriptive prose. This year there is also some intense "screamer rock" and some rap. There are high fives and slaps on the back from siblings, friends and adults as they return from their performances. The level of talent is high and the whole concert is incredibly moving.
We say our bleary farewells on the Friday morning and as we prepare for the arduous trip back to Melbourne there are hugs, and a frenzied swapping of myspace and email addresses.
Many things grow from the seeds of these camps. Kids who had never spoken to each other before now refer to their "new best friend"; they thank us sincerely for helping them put their thoughts and feelings into words. A newfound confidence and camaraderie spill into other areas of their lives. Each year we see them grow and change quite markedly. We watch as what were some extremely challenging year 7s become friendly and focussed year 10s, some even showing accidental leadership skills. Each year we see in them a deeper understanding of the language, as their particular forms of expression become more finely honed. And there are always some kids in particular whose writing or story stays with you and that you hope will keep coming back, kids that you will scan the bus for on a Wednesday, sometime next year.
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