the aussie abbotts

For the 2 of you that still read this, I thought I might report on what a great couple weeks it has been with Chris and Dave and Ron around. The first time I heard Dave speak, I just sat there and cried – even though I had heard the talk several times before. It was amazing to hear someone speak about the things I care about again. I really respect these guys. They are….wise, sooo intelligent…..they have important things to say. It’s been a privilege to share their company.

There’s not a whole of interesting news from here anymore. The job continues, everything is becoming more familiar, we’re beginning to get visitors from home….honestly, I’m finding that this blog was great for the big news of arriving and settling here, but now email seems to suffice. Blogs aren’t meant for the really personal stuff, so I’m not sure how much I’ll bother updating anymore unless something big and exciting happens. We don’t have a phone at home yet and I’m not sure that we will end up getting one. We both have mobile phones that don’t have many minutes but it might be worth it to call and see if we’re able to get to a payphone or work phone or something to call back. My number: 02 0430 313 271. Prestons: 02 0430 313 270. Otherwise, please email to keep in touch. Always homesick and….everything.

My email: angiejeane@gmail.com

Preston’s: prestonabbott@hotmail.com

The blog.  This one has been innactive for a bit.  We apologize to you interested surfers.  This is my first post.  Again, I apologize to you interested surfers.

It is tempting to conjour up some kind of fantastic intro after the long drought of dialogue produced here.  However, that would require an extra measure of effort that is not available on this particular afternoon.  So, unless a mug of fresh ground coffee appears on the desk next to me along with a delicious pastry that is more hazardous to my health than helpful, I am bound to a basic beginning.  Here goes, in medes res.

Today, I taught fifth grade (year 5 in Aussie) and third grade (year 3 in Aussie) kids about King Saul, first proclaimed monarch of the Israelites, tall in stature and small in many other ways.  This one never got a name change.  Anyway, Michael, a hands-on sort of kid, proclaimed himself king, declared me to be the Philistine Goliath, grabbed my wooden prop sword, and ran me through.  If you think that the classroom then turned into that dreaded threesome of anarchy, bedlem, and chaos…you are right.  And the din continued from moments to minutes until one girl said, “Michael, I think you really hurt him.”  Another boy responded, “No.  He’s faking.”  Michael tried to get a “Long Live King Michael” chant going with his wooden sword in the air and some old shiny fabric over his shoulders.  For a few seconds he had a couple of followers.  Then Georgia, who had helped me find my class earlier, said with very genuine concern,  “I think he’s hurt.  Maybe we should get Mrs. Wilson or Mrs. Bauldey.”  I let her reach the door, and then I spoke her name.  “Georgia” Before I finished her name, while still lying on the floor, a kid to my right proclaimed in a very sure voice, “He has risen!”  And I thought good point, wrong lesson, but good point. 

 More later.  Gotta go now.  Looking for roos.  Miss all of you.