It's cold, but in bushland so rather beautiful. Mists and fogs in the morning, clear bright skies at night - if it isn't bucketting with rain. Lots of stars because there isn't much in the way of artificial light.
The children do workshops and treasure hunts (learning by stealth). They run around together and play, and have a great time. And are expected to help, even with just keeping their own cabins tidy. On the Saturday night there is a talent concert - not competition. Concert. So everyone who wants to gets to show what they can do. It is always interesting and often breathtaking. A couple of the parents take part. I usually sing a silly song to give the kids a laugh.
As a parent I love going. I know my children are safe, so I can chill out. The last few years I have sat on the large back verandah, looking out at the fields and trees, sewing or spinning or knitting. Other parents sat too, reading, crafting, whatever. And we chatted and got to know it each other. Given I was still quite ill when I first went, this was such a blessing. I actually got a holiday of sorts. We, the parents, are all expected to pull our weight - help prepare and serve two meals at least, keep our kids in order between workshops and get them into bed on time, help out where necessary, but it isn't onerous. And as a side benefit we get to know each other. I have some people I can call friends, even though we only see each other once a year (we all say we will catch up in the meantime, but it never seems to happen - too much life gets in the way).
A lot of the children there, while gifted, have a diagnosis of some sort, and it is useful as parents to compare notes, discuss strategies, school successes and failures, life in general. It is also great to just hang out with other adults who aren't going to judge you becauce of your children.
I had plans this year with my verandah time. I was going to do lots of sketching. It's one thing to draw an inanimate object or a posing model. It is quite another to draw people doing whatever they are doing. Even when people are just sitting around chatting, they are quite active. Their hands move. A lot. And so do their heads. Expressions change second by second. And then they get up when you haven't quite finished. And so on. I was really looking forward to the challenge. It didn't happen.
The verandah was workshop space this year. My friend, Mark, was running it. Mark works at Taronga Zoo, and plays in a number of bands on the side. He is a brilliant guitarist. We all love listening to him while we talk. We make him play till his fingers bleed (well, not quite, but we all push it a bit - he is fantastic). This year he got asked to help out big time, so no music. There was supposed to be a helper, but he spent his time playing in the workshop, so I stuck my hand up and ended up to my eyeballs in cardboard boxes.
The workshop involved lots and lots and LOTS of cardboard. And sticky tape. And scissors. Everyone reading this who has kids understands that this is child hog heaven. The idea was that the children had crash landed onto a planet and had to build structures for a colony. Pretty quickly (as in, within a couple of minutes) Mark and I banned the construction of a TARDIS, and established that the planet was NOT Gallifrey.
The first group built a lot of weapons and defence posts. My daughter slacked around because she thinks she is now too old for this, and chatted to the guy who should have been helping but spent all weekend building a large laser gun for the colony (he's a Marvel and Doctor Who fan, so they had a lot to talk about, but still...). Everyone was very protective of their structures and very proprietorial. When they found out that the structures had to stay, and be fair game for the next group, there was a fair bit of angst.
The second group crashed on the planet where there were the remains of a previous colony. Use what's there to build what is needed. Weapons and defence posts became farm buildings, a recycling centre, boats. Or even BIGGER weapons. The teenagers in this one didn't argue about building a TARDIS, or sit around half-heartedly constructing something while talking about fan things. Instead they built a mysterious (and large) monolith, complete with strange runes. Again the kids who built stuff from scratch were very protective of their creations. The ones who had altered existing things were eager to see what happened next.
The last group had the same scenario as the second group. We saw boats morph into sleeping quarters, the recycling centre became a trading store, my son built an ATM that spat out "money" and cardboard credit cards (I wish). The monolith became, to the dismay of its builders, a rocket ship to move the colonists further out into the universe. The weapons posts became even bigger. And one smart lad built a solar power generator, adorned with old CDs as solar panels.
They had a lot of fun. But what did I learn?
1. Weilding a large knife (for quickly cutting cardboard boxes - the kids drew where they wanted the cuts) automatically gives you a lot of authority
2. The children who head straight for the scissors before anything else probably shouldn't be allowed to have them
3. Every colony group has at least one anarchist and one saboteur
4. Not every child gets that sharing is a two-way thing
5. You can never have too many cardboard boxes. Or egg cartons. And the old CDs will run out first (then we find out who the negotiators are in the group).
At the end of the last day, when everything was packed away and cleaned up and the kids were off doing the treasure hunt (clues to follow, lots of running and thinking and searching), we parents got the verandah back. I did some drawing, made a new friend and showed someone how Zentangle works. Mark meanwhile got out his guitar and worked his magic. And I finally got to do some sketching. Just the one. And yes, it was a challenge.
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| Mark, Megan Hitchens, 2014, graphite on buff sketch paper |
And I have had enough of cardboard for the time being.
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