Protocolo Mediciones antropométricas

The morning hadn’t gone well. The kids, now accustomed to wandering into the room and doing what they pleased, hadn’t seemed thrilled when he suggested they were going to spend some time reading and writing. There were some kids who, since the beginning of The Joy Project, had virtually done no reading or writing at all. He’d noticed this at the time, but had decided that it would all sort itself out as the weeks passed. It was a theory he’d heard about once.

Apparently, if children were allowed to eat what they liked, they would initially binge on lollies but eventually self-select a balanced diet. Alex reasoned children would eventually be hungry for the right kind of knowledge. But what was that? Who said English and maths were better than the arts or sport?

Some theory could be a load of crap. He was more than a little alarmed that Amir and Manny hadn’t opened a book, or read anything beyond gaming instructions on the computer or iPad since The Joy Project began.

Today, he resolved that once he had the kids working, he’d go around and hear everybody read and take notes on their progress. However small the effort, it would give him something tangible on which to base his reports. But Amir had different plans.

‘I don’t want to,’ he screamed when Alex continued to insist he select a text from the book corner.

Alex took a breath. He counted to five. ‘All right, suit yourself.’

Amir shrugged and wandered off morosely, trailing a piece of yellow ribbon behind him.

The rest of the class was similarly disengaged. Bridie was in the book corner with Thuy, but neither of them was looking at a book. Alex crossed his arms and searched the room for inspiration.

After making a few unpopular suggestions, and starting to perspire, Alex peeled off his jumper. Impulsively, he announced, ‘I’ll be looking for the best reader this morning, and there will be a prize.’ What the prize might be he had no idea about. He would figure that out once everyone was settled on a task.

Settling on any task did not eventuate. A small group of about five

students, Bridie included, sat in the book corner and read fairly happily, though chatting more than Alex thought was appropriate if reading anything longer than a few sentences. The rest wandered around the room as they’d been

accustomed to doing since the beginning of The Joy Project, flitting from one task to the next, not accomplishing much.

Now that he thought about it, the times when he’d felt the kids were at their most happy and productive was when he’d set the direction and had assigned tasks. Like when they were making their painted mural that now decorated the back wall. Each panel was assigned to a group of kids, with a monitor who would check in with Alex as to the progress.

But how would he get them to work productively in a sustained way without micro-managing their every move? That wasn’t in the spirit of The Joy Project.

It was then that he saw Felicity at the window. Their eyes met, her gaze inscrutable. She lingered for a moment before walking off. Alex wondered how long she’d been standing there.

* * *

Alone for the night, Alex logged onto Jess’s Instagram and checked for any recent posts. The last was of a tray of Florentines. He rang her number. When it went to voicemail, he hung up.

An hour later, she returned his call.

‘Where?’

Jess paused before answering. ‘Along the beach.’ ‘You shouldn’t be out past dark without your phone.’ She paused again, then laughed softly. ‘I’m a big girl.’

The thought of Jess out there alone was deeply troubling to Alex. Any person with malicious intent would snap her like a twig. But he also knew it wasn’t his place to act like her defender.

‘I’ve been reading your blog,’ she said. ‘It’s like a serial adventure. Can’t wait to see what happens next.’

Thankful for the change of conversation, Alex swelled with pride at the words.

‘Well, I’m just putting questions out there. Not sure if I’m finding the answers, though.’

‘Alex, we’re all in the same boat.’ ‘All?’

‘I mean everyone. Everyone’s got questions. We’re all searching.’ ‘Some more than others.’

‘Look at my aunt Flick. She looks like she has it all together, but I’m sure she’s got questions. There have to be.’

On impulse, Alex said, ‘Do you want to come over? I’ve got coffee, chocolate... a night cap?’ then quickly felt himself redden. He laughed a bit too loudly, glad for the empty apartment. ‘No pressure.’ The fire in his cheeks intensified. Not many people could make worse what he’d just proposed, but he’d somehow managed.

‘Another time. I’m already in my PJs.’

The ticking of Pippa’s toenails sounded across the floorboards of the hallway. Alex wished he could be smooth and cool, instead of awkward and a cheat. No matter how innocent the intent, it wasn’t fair to Madeleine to have Jess over at this time of night. If he was really honest with himself, he couldn’t fully attest to his own innocence.

‘I admire what you’re doing, Alex. I’d join you, but at my school you couldn’t sneak a peanut past leadership.’

‘Some critical feedback would help. I’m not just after a pat on the back.’ ‘Deal. I’ll be excruciatingly honest, since I’m getting out and have nothing to lose.’ She let out a little squeal of excitement. ‘Only six months to go.’

After he hung up, Alex thought about that timeline. Six months. At the end of it, Jess would be out of teaching and starting her culinary career. The Joy Project would be at an end.

He was still clueless about what that would mean in terms of rerouting his compass.

* * *

‘Thanks for letting me join your meeting today,’ Felicity said. Alex, Vivian and Gus were perched on the little chairs in Vivian’s room.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ Vivian said, smiling. Alex liked to see Vivian smile. He noticed she did it a lot with Felicity and Nick. And for parents, to whom she always displayed the most impeccably cordial behaviour.

‘As you know, we have a lot going on in our school at the moment,’ Felicity said. ‘There’s that ex teacher’s visit, for one.’

Alex caught Gus’s wink. It was the first time Conor Reynolds had been referred to so irreverently.

‘What was Conor Reynolds like?’ Gus said, interrupting.

Felicity features hardened. ‘For one thing,’ she said, ‘his name is Craig. Craig Reynolds. Not Conor.’ No sooner had she spoken the words than a change came over her, and she became soft and wistful in a way Alex could never imagine Felicity could be. ‘He was a fine teacher. Really. He was kind to the kids. He cared about them, you know? Had a little no-interest loan scheme going with some of the hard-up parents. But he was a smooth operator in the classroom, too.’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘I guess he lost his mojo at some point.’

Gus laughed. ‘A couple of million bucks might have played a part. His mojo gets to sun its buns in St Tropez now. Tough call.’ He held imaginary

weights in his hands, balancing them like they were on scales. ‘Beauvista… St Tropez… Beauvista…’

‘We’re digressing,’ Vivian said, shooting a terse look at Gus.

Felicity returned to her former demeanour. ‘Yes, lots going on. We’ve just heard that we’ve been assigned a literacy coach. Ivana Hepner, who we’re all familiar with, will work at our school a couple of mornings a week for the rest of the year, starting Monday.’

‘Wonderful,’ Vivian said. ‘How is she going to be utilised in the school?’ ‘The focus will be literacy pedagogy and assessment. Ivana will work with people individually, modelling best practice during class time and then on a one-on-one basis, to discuss teaching and assessment strategies. I want her to work with the junior school as a matter of priority. So she will come to your team first, and Vivian can decide how she gets rotated.’

‘We certainly can do with more support with assessment,’ Vivian said, glancing Alex’s way.

He gripped his chin with thumb and forefinger, hoping the posture gave him an air of authority.

‘How are the reports coming along?’ Felicity said.

‘Very well at my end, and I’m sure Gus and Alex are making good progress, too.’

Both Gus and Alex nodded.

‘Excellent, I look forward to receiving them by Friday for my weekend reading.’

Alex did a quick calculation of the number of students divided by the remaining days. It was doable, if only because in the absence of assessment data, the reports would be a purely creative writing exercise.

* * *

The flight had seemed interminable, but here they were at last, resting in their Collins Street hotel suite, relatively unscathed after a virtual mobbing at

‘Honey, it’s Vince,’ Kym said as she handed him his mobile. ‘What’s it like to be back in your hometown?’ Vince said.

Conor fought the surge of emotion the question had unexpectedly aroused. ‘Once a shithole...’

‘Glad to hear you’re in a good mood. This won’t take long. I just wanted to remind you that I’m resending your schedule by email and copying the PR team.’

After the call ended, Conor reclined on one of the leather chairs next to the floor to ceiling window, surveying the Melbourne skyline and the relentless stream of traffic far below. He’d lied to Vince. Being back was oddly comforting in a way he was unable to define. The person who’d left Melbourne twenty years earlier was almost unrecognisable to him. He’d left Melbourne on a budget flight to Los Angeles with three thousand dollars in his wallet and the proceeds from the sale of his house sitting in his bank account; a gutsy investment in the future Conor Reynolds corporation. He’d had no real prospects. With nothing but brazen hope pinned to his leather jacket, he’d decided he’d never be back. Certainly never as a failure.

Now he was back, triumphant. It didn’t feel the way he might have imagined it would have, back then.

He reached for his iPad, logged onto the hotel’s Wifi and opened the email from Vince. The list of engagements seemed manageable. Beauvista was among the first.

Instinctively, he thought of Felicity. Surely she was no longer at Beauvista after all these years. Curiosity got the better of him. He googled the school. A cheerful banner shot up; an unfamiliar school emblem; a new colour scheme. The school was certainly re-branded but a re-invention was yet to be verified.

He clicked on the Staff tab and a new page loaded. The first photo in view was of Nick. He was almost unrecognisable. At least twenty kilos heavier and thinning on top. But his eyes were still Nick. Teaching hadn’t dampened that sparkle. He wondered if he still worked those worry beads as he walked about the place.

Felicity. She was still there. And still very much Felicity. There were wrinkles now, and a softening of the beautiful lines of her face. Her slender neck was covered by a loosely draped scarf. His chest tightened. Memories flooded in. There were so many projects. Building and painting where

maintenance had been overlooked, or could not be afforded. Planting up that corner of the oval. Their corner. Team teaching. So much enthusiasm. They’d poured their hearts into every lesson. And that clumsy encounter in the dark at the back of the cricket club at the Christmas function after a few too many beers. He remembered his part of the excruciating exchange the following Monday; full of apologies for what he’d called a mistake. Felicity had just blushed and looked past him as she walked out. The subject wasn’t broached again. He’d been so inept. But man, he’d sure been alive back then.

He inhaled deeply and felt his limbs loosening. Tears welled and the skyline beyond the immense sheet of glass became indistinct.

For the first time in he knew not how long, he opened those hidden gates and let sadness flood in.

Chapter 20 – Walk this way

The start of another working week. Mostly, Alex got out of bed first, took a shower, and sat in the kitchen with his muesli-yoghurt mix and coffee, reading The Age on his iPad. Madeleine woke later, complained about having to make the bed, and then got in the shower first. She took a lot longer getting ready, so Alex was more than willing to give her a head start. It only took him five minutes to leave the apartment from the time he got under the water.

This particular Monday morning, Alex clicked on one of the Education features, and read the entire article.

Another puzzle piece fell into place. * * *

Gus popped in for his Monday visit. A few kids were fiddling about in Alex’s room; some playing in the Lego tub, others drawing; a couple huddled at the computers.

‘Mate, good weekend?’

‘Busy,’ Alex said. ‘We’re moving next Saturday, so we had to have a lot of our stuff packed. No time during the week. What about you?’

‘Freaked out.’

‘Are your reports done?’

‘Done and dusted.’ This was not a lie. It had only taken Alex a few hours to fabricate his twenty seven reports on observation and gut feeling. Strangely, he did not feel as guilty as he imagined he ought.

‘Then is it about the literacy coach?’

‘Mate, I couldn’t give a shit about that fucking dominatrix, Ivana whatshername.’

Alex laughed. ‘What is it, then?’

‘Bloody Olivia. Came home last Friday saying she’s not going to finish uni, because she’s had – wait for this – an epiphany. An epiphany for god’s sake. I didn’t know words like that at her age. Spent most of my time walking around scratching my arse.’ He stopped to look at Alex for a beat before continuing. ‘Okay, so you’re not really getting this, because you’re not much older than Olivia. But let me tell you. All this fucking soul searching that you young ones load yourselves up with, let me tell you, it’s just a fucking complication. Things are a lot more straightforward when you think less and do a whole lot fucking more.’

Alex glanced around to see if any of the kids could hear their conversation. He put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s not easy, Gus. There are so many choices out there,’ Alex said.

‘Jesus, mate, you are one of them. She’s fucking twenty one. Now she’s probably not going to be working until she’s at least twenty five. Which means I’ll have to work another four years.’

Alex thought he’d change the subject. He didn’t really understand why Gus was so uptight, and it was clear he wasn’t about to broach alternative points of view. Deep down, Alex identified with Olivia. For Chrissakes, what was one supposed to do? It wasn’t like the old days, when people just picked a job, and did it ad nauseam for the rest of their lives. That was mind-bending shit, and thank god it was no longer forced upon you. But he did understand it was hard for Gus. Wanting to retire, but not being able to because he was still funding Olivia’s Gen Y lifestyle.

Gus shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about her, mate. I’ll just nod my head, say, That’s interesting, a whole lot, and then once she walks out of my room and the door’s shut, I’ll just do what I fucking well please. I mean, really… what do they expect? I’ve been teaching nearly forty years. I’m not the one who should worry.’ He gave Alex a pointed look.

‘I’m not worried, either,’ Alex said with a shrug. Forming the words and hearing them spoken out loud served to give him a level of courage he

otherwise did not feel. ‘They’re determined to shove professional learning down our throats whether we like it or not. But if I could choose, I’d rather those boring sessions in the library than someone poking their nose in my classroom.’

‘I can’t stand any of it,’ Gus said with a sneer. ‘Fuck the fucking PL in the library. Fuck the Scotch Finger biscuits and fuck the Styrofoam cups filled with disgusting International Roast. Fuck it all.’

Alex had never heard Gus swearing this much. The pressure was obviously getting to him.

‘I read an article this morning about literacy coaches in schools. The department is determined to streamline classroom practices.’

Gus shook his head. ‘Good luck. I mean, what can they do if we refuse to be led like sheep?’

Sheep. If only Madeleine were a fly on the wall. ‘The heat will be on.’ ‘Mate, with what you’ve got going on in here, there’ll be a flame thrower up your arse. You’ll need a dam the size of the oval to keep the water bombs up to