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23.01.2022 "Be a teacher," said Sir (Saint) Thomas More to Richard Rich when Rich wanted a leg up into The Royal Court of England in the early stages of his career. Instead, Rich went on to become a liar and perjurer, 'white collar' thief, torturer, destroyer of monasteries and Chancellor (Prime Minister) of all England. One writer says that no one has a good word to say about him. But he had fifteen children, became rich in fact as well as in name, and died in his bed. (Meantime, More ...had his head chopped off!) In most eyes, Rich made the right choice. Why would anyone want to become a teacher? Especially in a country such as South Sudan where the financial rewards are somewhere between nil and very little? The answer is, in part in the post which appeared on my page yesterday. As a rule, I remove other posts from my page, but I left yesterday's there because I wanted to reflect on the lot of a teacher in South Sudan, and my experience in helping to train them. I have received many messages of gratitude, such as this one from Martha and that gratitude has enriched me. In fact, I have to say that it has greatly enriched me, and I want to point to that sense of enrichment to encourage past, present and future students of Solidarity's Yambio Teacher Training College. You will become discouraged. You will not be paid what you are worth. How could you possibly be paid what you are worth, for you are gold. The second picture today is of a group of our students returning from the last day of a teaching round, having said farewell to classes of students who had been in their care for four weeks. They returned with gifts of sugar cane, fruit and vegetables. It was not the kind of reward that Sir Richard Rich was seeking, but it represents enormous gratitude from a community of poor people. Be teachers. Be the best teachers you can be and your students will always be grateful to you. You are the hope of your country. See more

22.01.2022 Happy birthday to Sam, #2 son. I don't have any new photos of him since he lives in Port Douglas, and I don't. Every birthday of my children is a milestone for me. I seem to be getting a bit older myself. I knew Sam when he was much younger. Loved him then. Love him now. I'll celebrate later with a glass of milk.

19.01.2022 Methiang Deng posted these images of some happy, happy teachers at Comboni Primary School in Abyei. They are happy because school is opening again after a year of lock down. It's great to hear that the same is happening in other parts of South Sudan as well. There are six graduates of Solidarity TTC on the Abyei staff. They should be a source of great strength to one another, and to the school. The key though, is to be humble. The graduates have a solid foundation to become... excellent teachers, but should not think of themselves as superior. Experience is their best teacher, and there are non-graduate teachers everywhere who have learned much in the School of Experience. Help your students, your fellow teachers, and one another in humility. Enjoy your work in the greatest profession of all, and may you become a better teacher with every passing day. See more

12.01.2022 I just read "Rose Boys" by Peter Rose. Wow! I cut my toe nails yesterday. It wasn't easy. I'm getting either taller or less flexible, because my feet are harder to reach and the nails seem to have hardened up a little more each time I get down there. But I'm never going to complain again - about anything! Bob Rose was, arguably, Collingwood's greatest ever footballer, and they've had a few good ones! He won a premiership as a player, but he coached Collingwood in the notoriou...s period of the Colliewobbles. (What's green, has big wings and eats Magpies in September? The MCG.) A true sportsman, Bob wore several close grand final losses with dignity, unlike some who were favoured by the bounce of the ball, and lorded it over Rose and his team thereafter. Bob had two sons, the elder of whom (Robert) played for Collingwood, but also played cricket for Victoria, and might well have been chosen to play for Australia. That possibility ended dramatically when Robert became a quadriplegic as a result of a car accident in 1974. His four limbs were useless. "Rose Boys" is Peter, the younger son's account of the twenty five years that Robert spent in bed or in a wheelchair, totally dependent on his mother, father and family. I could not put the book down, though it was tearing me apart. But I could not put the book down because there was inspiration on every page. There were fearful details of the military manoeuvres to get Robert from bed to wheelchair and back again; positioning pillows, and untreatable bed sores; placing suppositories in his anus to keep his bowels working, and then having to clean up the consequences; times of deep depression; severe acne, twisted bowel, vomiting black bile. (Am I inspiring you to read this book?) Conquering all of that is the power of love. Some might think that I am exceeding my authority in saying this, but I hereby declare Elsie and Bob Rose, parents of Robert, to be saints. And I give honourable mention to all of those who rallied around in support. This was a love story, beautifully told, and inspiring. Read it any time you are tempted to complain about the increasing difficulty you might have in cutting your toenails. See more

10.01.2022 Br Chris published a recent photo of wild weather in Yambio. I love wild weather. Every 2 or 3 days in Yambio, late afternoon in the wet season sees the wind pick up, clouds scurry about deciding whether to dump rain here or there, thunder claps often thumping the roof line, and lightning forking the sky. It was great if your accommodation was built to handle it.

09.01.2022 God: Watch it! Me: Watch what? God: Just stop what you're doing. Me: What am I doing God: You're leaning over someone's front fence taking photos.... Me: So? God: Can you see someone standing behind the front door? Me: Ooh! You might be right. God: He, she or it could be calling the police as we speak. Me: I'm standing on the footpath. Where's the harm in that? God: Sometimes you have to think about the effect your having on other people, not just doing something because you want to. Me: Are you going to give me a lecture on prudence? God: I could. Me: You don't hear of girls being called Prudence any more. It seems to be an old fashioned virtue. God: It's a very sensible virtue. Me: Like I shouldn't get blind drunk because I'm less capable of influencing whatever happens next. God: Getting 'smashed' - do they still say that? - isn't prudent. Me: But if, for example, someone took advantage of a drunk girl, you'd have to blame the perpetrator wouldn't you? God: There's plenty of perpetrators out there. If you strolled near a pride of lions at night, would you blame the lions that ate you. Me: I'm not going there. God: What were you taking the pictures for anyway? Me: My daughter and her husband have bought a new house with a small front garden. There's quite a few nice front gardens around here, so I take a shot and send it to her. God: ... and then she'll do something completely different. Me: Probably. I'm just trying to get across the idea of something low maintenance. God: That would be prudent. See more

08.01.2022 I had a choice today between writing something about Prince Phillip's death or Brother Michael McCabe's 60th anniversary as a De La Salle Brother. Others will write about Phil. Mick is the sort of bloke who gives the religious life a good name, as do the men he lives with, and so many others who have sacrificed much in order to do good. Here he is pictured with Lawrie, Bill, Denis, Chris Gleeson SJ, Paul, (Mick) Peter and Bede. Mick is a proud Richmond boy and there was a cha...nce that he would join the Jesuits via his close connection with them at St Ignatius. I am presuming that Chris, who was here to say Mass for us, did not engage in any attempt to poach our party boy, even at this late stage! I first met Mick 59 years ago when I joined the De La Salle Brothers for a ten year stint. Things were quite regimented then, even the recreation/conversation groups that we were appointed to in the few minutes between the end of meals and the beginning of a new prayer or study session, or maybe work in the garden or cleaning the toilets - in silence. The roster had me in the same group as His Truly. Even then, Mick displayed the friendliness and good humour which later made him such a valuable asset to St Bede's where he acted as boarding master for many of the years that I taught there. He was a superb PR man, and remains very popular with parents and students from that era, essentially because of his ability to relate to people. Congratulations Mick. You're still doing a grand job. See more

03.01.2022 My daughter and a friend used to write a blog called "The Tram Diaries" based on their adventures travelling to and from work. After a recent few trips on the trams, I can see the potential for endless entertainment. Example 1: Yesterday, on my way to Abbotsford, the tram stopped at a red light in Glenferrie Road. Passengers alighted and others entered. A car sidled up level with the front of the tram. The driver became agitated, opened her door and the tram's doors and lea...ned towards the yellow car. Waving her arm, she screeched: "Wind down your window! Wind down your window!" The lady/woman/female car driver did so with a quizzical expression on her face. More screeching: "This is a tram stop! Your supposed to stop behind the tram." The l/w/f wound up her window and proceeded to turn left.. The tram driver closed all the doors, settled herself back into her seat. and proceeded into the crossing, against a red light! Example 2: On my way home, a football team of Scotch College youth boarded the tram outside the college and engaged in boyish loud laughter and awkward, uncoordinated occupation of space. We inched towards Kooyong railway crossing, where there was obviously a hold up. After perhaps ten minutes, the driver announced that he would open the front door for anyone who wanted to leave the tram. I stayed put, thinking things would sort themselves out, The platoon of angular youth jostled forward and onto the footpath, where half of them walked the hundred metres or so to the railway gates, while the other half discussed the problem of what to do next. They were given a hint as a train passed by and the gates opened. The tram driver opened the doors for them and they were in. He then then set off through the gates with a dozen or so boys beside the road signaling him to stop. He would have been at fault to do so, so we had a dozen future leaders of Melbourne society inside the tram laughing, and a dozen outside, shaking their fists in high dudgeon. See more

01.01.2022 Here's a pic of a bloke who had a huge influence on my life. Brother Abban (William O'Riordan) was born in County Cork in 1915, which makes him forty when he taught me at De La Salle Malvern in 1955. He died on 5 May 1981 at Oakhill. Teaching, these days, is a female dominated profession but I'm surprised, looking back, that I can recall only one male teacher until Year 8. Abban taught us all day, every day in that Year 8 class and the class size was about 50. If he was exhau...sted by the task, as some teachers say they are now, it didn't show. A good example of his enthusiasm was an early lesson in French. He told us that the word for brother was 'le frere', the table was 'la table' on was 'sur'. Then he leapt onto the teacher's desk, dominating the room, and cried out: "Le frere est sur la table." I've enjoyed French ever since that moment, and I've always seen the value of a bit of tomfoolery in a classroom. On the other hand, Abban knew how to pace himself. so that there were times when we had our heads down, working away while he did something else. He could even absent himself from the classroom and we wouldn't dare stop working. Most days, he left us to it at some point while he went out for a smoke! Were we enthusiastic? We were all desperate to sit in the best row, and to avoid the row of "exterior darkness". We competed to be the most generous row in giving money for the missions, even if it meant us going hungry. There was always a forest of arms to give an answer. Unforgettable was the time that he wanted someone to come to the board and show others how to solve a problem. We were out of our seats with excitement. Billy Rose was picked for the job. He promptly dashed down the aisle, tripped on the edge of the platform and smashed his face on the blackboard. Perhaps we were too keen! Many of Abban's characteristics have become mine. I remember him with deep gratitude. See more