or... Video of the Month
Starting this month, we are introducing something new to the weekly. At the end of each month, our hope is to publish a "This Month at McRoberts" video which highlights some of the main things that have happened. Based on the feedback we have received about the Strikers Weekly, we have been told more photos less "bricks" of text (use text to supplement images rather than images to supplement writing). Adding the monthly video hopefully takes this a step further by allowing just a bit more insight on what goes on here at McRoberts.
Though it is only one day of the year, hopefully the impact of the impressive day organized by Ms. Charlton and Ms. Nicholson's PE Leadership students will resonate long beyond. "Pink" Day is a day where we remind students of the importance of creating a safe and caring environment for all of our students. It is a day where we remind ourself what we expect from each other to ensure that our school is the environment most conducive to learning. Whether it was delicious treats provided by the Catering Club, Photos in the Photo Booth, or watching our Dance Team, the day was a great day to have fun and at the same time, remember.
Top Three (and One)
After a former McRoberts Idol (2016) graced the stage, the top three finalists performed for their chance to represent McRoberts at the Rich City Idol in May. A special congratulations to all the participants who showed their courage and skills and wowed the fan-filled bleachers.
Some Amazing Poetry
Ms. McKenna's Writing class has recently focused on Poetry. Two of her talented poets have agreed to share their work.
The weather is still too warm for my hot pink fleece pants,
but I wear them anyways
They are my armour
Light up shoes, Barbie backpack, lunchbox filled with pre-frozen freezer elements
Keeping my go-gurt cold
I am ready
Freshly snipped hair swivels back and forth, looking from parent to teacher
“Which one is in charge?”
The classroom door opens
and the separation begins
With the force of a thousand suction cupped tentacles,
we cling to our parents
The education system is too mighty
for the valiant yet vain attempts of us children
So one by one
We are flung into the relentless jaws of Division One.
with proud tears in their eyes,
our traitor parents snap one last picture,
dodging the pudgy fingers of their desperately confused children
“Have a good day at school!” they chant
as they flee back to their cars
we line up to enter the classroom
tentatively following our new leader
whom we must refer to by last name
“Mme Tulee” she calls herself
she speaks to us only in her foreign teacher language
she shows us a picture of a car and points
“Voiture!” she proclaims
but I know better
that’s just a car
she pulls out another picture of a house
“Maison!” she insists,
gesturing wildly with her index finger
I begin to worry
What kind of madwoman have my parents left me with?
Why does it sound like she’s choking when she says the letter “R”?
How long do I have to be here?
Finally, the highly anticipated lunch hour arrives
It is by far the superior hour of this grueling day
and it fills the students with hope
we survive another session of the brainwashing technique known as
and at last,
with a glorious blast of a bell,
we are released back into the open arms of our parents
Who whisper their words of pride
Into our tired, tired ears
White lace atop matted beige carpet
A pluck of elegance hidden away,
Reserved for a time unbeknownst to itself.
Advice streams from between my parted lips
Vanilla Macadamia kiss
Swift breath, hushed deception.
Potential spun in the soft cotton of my sheets
Enveloping my longing, my wariness, my uncertainty
To take it slow, is to take it normal.
Maturity settles in as it pleases
Hypocrisy my ephemeral mannerism
Too much obsession, too little progression.
Scratchy fabric prickles the fibres of my
Desperation scrambles to surpass ability,
Rubs taught against my body.
My room is swathed in an air of melancholy:
All traces of comfort wrestled from its walls,
dignity dug out from inside its drawers,
patience plucked from under its pillows,
sincerity bewitched from its bookshelves,
integrity stripped from between its sheets.
Hastiness does not bring bliss.
To accept the love of another person,
You must first opt to project your own
And it seems this is where I have always
my love woven away in white lace,
tangled in the strands of a matted beige
Model UN in New York
Our Model UN Group led by Mme Rost-Komiya have been taking in the sites of New York. Though the tourism has been enjoyable, soon they will move from the streets to the United Nations Model UN event. (Thanks Penny for sending the pictures).