March 20. Day 80. Remember my name

Remember, remember, remember, remember,
remember, remember, remember, rememberRemember my name. Fame!Fourteen years and counting. Twice a year, every year, I have attended Fame Theatre Company's clubs. And each of those performances ends with the performance company's theme song, Fame. Despite this, I still love that song. It is a song for my generation. But no matter how many times people sing at me about remembering my name, the fact is I will not. The fact is, I am seriously woeful at remembering names. If some of these talented youngsters go on to performing on the world stage - and I'm sure they will - and I say "I remember that name from his/her early days at Fame" it will be a lie. In fact some of those performers in those 14 years of Fame shows have turned up in my classes and I didn't remember them. At least it guarantees I can't play favourites. Remembering names is a skill, an awesome skill or a practiced art, or an innate genetic gift but whatever way it goes it has bypassed me. But then again so are singing and dancing and acting and those skills also passed me by but in all cases I admire those who have it. So I will never tire of watching talented youngsters up on stage giving it a go. I will never tire of the tuneless little things looking out in the audience for mum and dad. The names I might not remember. Those moments I can't forget.

March 19. Day 79. Voting hits a snag

 A young woman was interviewed as part of a radio story the other day. She was voting for the first time and said she was not at all interested in the process or politics and would probably just vote the same way her parents did.  hear that all the time - but not in my house. My son has been itching to vote since he knew voting was a "thing" and today he was able to fill in a ballot paper for the first time. We were at the polling station before 8 (not because of desperate aniticpation but because today he also had to indulge another great passion perfomance and theatre call time was 8am). He took all of the How to Vote Cards because he could not because there would be any last minute decision formed on the day. Then with the important business of polling day sausage sizzle out of the way, he joined the voting queue and was one of the first to vote at the Saint Ita's booth. And then with his democratic duty complete it was off to the theatre. I wouldn't be at all surprised if one day that young man's name is on a voting paper, such is his interest in politics. If that happens, I will be at the polling booth before 8am not for the sausage but handing out how to vote cards on his behalf.

March 18. Day 78. Wilting

It's the same every cycle. At this time fatigue sets in, accompanied by a moodiness and a tendancy to want to weep. It's to be expected. The academic semester is now one quarter done and dusted and I'm starting to wilt slightly. Looming assessment deadlines mean growing student stress and that feeds back in a cycle of agro. Everyone is feeling tired and emotional and when that happens no-one does their best work. Which makes you wonder about the Australian senate. Some time yesterday they started debating a piece of legislation. The debate continued for 20 hours straight ending at 1.30pm. Just was well I'm not a senator because at that stage I wouldn't know if the vote was about banning bubble gum or legislating to give free bubble guns to every child (it probably isn't either of those things which is a shame because both are a matter of great national importance). Anyway when Senators start to appear in their PJs in the chamber and I resort to taking pics of grasses as South Bank we know that everyone needs a little lie down

March 17. Day 77. Where there's smoke

Apparently I am the responsible adult. This means in the event of an emergency or fire alarm sounding at my place of work, as the academic in charge of the tute room it is my job to ensure that everyone leaves the room in  a safe and orderly manner. I take this responsibility very seriously - now. This has not always been the case. There was this one time the fire alarm sounded and as per the manual I told everyone to leave everything and the vacate the building using the stairs. All good,

except for one small detail. I neglected to take care of the blind student in a wheelchair. He was normally accompanied by a carer who stayed during the class. This day the carer left and without help he was stuck. Fortunately it was just a drill. Fortunately the other students behaved better than I did. But I learned my lesson and take emergency evacuation procedures very seriously  - when it is on my watch. Apparently, I am not so compliant when it is someone else's responsibility regardless if it means I risk becoming a human torch. Like everyone else in the Playhouse at QPAC tonight, I did nothing when the fire alarm started blaring. The cast, the band, the ushers, the audience, no-one moved. In the first instance those on stage were living the motto of the show must go on. Later, the performers stopped, then hammed it up and finally left the stage. The smoke detectors continued to do their thing. Sure it was almost certainly a false alarm. Sure the smoke machine had been particularly active and the stage smoke was thick but that would be of cold comfort if there was a fire. Note to self, brush up on that evacuation procedure again.

March 16. Day 76. The birds and the bees

Humans are rather pathetic when it comes down to it. Most species can walk, feed themselves and take care of themselves when barely "hatched". Humans take years. For males of the species it's more like decades - if they get it at all. Even knowing this, even knowing that six months is when vet science recommends bitches be desexed, I was completely unprepared for our little ball of fluff Miss Winkle to go on heat. And yet the signs were quite clear and just to be sure we consulted our vet. Our baby is now big enough to have babies. Given her size and puppiness I wouldn't even have sat her down and had "the talk" if she was a two-legged family member. She would have been the young lady who thinks she's bleeding to death because dodgy parent doesn't pass on the fact of life. To be fair, she was booked in to be "fixed" - just not until next week. So now she's under house arrest. I was able to go and see the birds and bees at Roma Street parkands today but without the furry photographic assistants. Of course Rumple could have come but being the sensitive new aged male he is he's staying home to support the little woman, or something. Fact is, the two of them are practically inseparable and it would be wrong to mess with that now.

March 15. Day 75. Claws are out

Stupidity I can forgive. Let's face it whether it's nature or nurture there's not much a person can do if their lunch box is one sandwich short. You go hungry. It's not your fault, it's just the way it is. But what is likely to get my claws out and have me fly off the handle is when someone is blessed with an intellectual banquet but fails to use it. That is just so bloody annoying. Most of the world's population would have no hope - none - of attending a university like the one that pays my wages. Even in this country, even in this city the competition for spots in the main degree I teach into is pretty intense. And yet it is an opportunity that is too often squandered. In the past week I have been working with a group to cover the world science festival in Brisbane. Their commitment and enthusiasm has been outstanding. I'd be a happy little Vegemite if that was every student, every day. But there is always a small number who might find committing time to work is more productive than inventing excuses, just saying. Do it right the first time and you won't need to keep clawing your way back. You might even find your soar.

March 14. Day 74. Scale of the problem

Anyone planning on needing resuscitation somewhere in my vicinity take heart - my CPR training was today officially signed off an for another year. I even have a latex rash on my face to prove it. We were warned that if latex intolerance was an issue to cover the faces of the CPR dolls before getting up close and personal. I didn't bother because I have no issue with latex, at least I didn't until today. Now it looks like I was playing an over aggressive game of suck face with the thing rather than trying to breathe life into it. I find CPR in equal measures terrifying and reassuring. It is good to know that you might be able to help in an emergency. But at the trainers share their horror stories I find the level of panic rising. Practicing CPR on an infant is, frankly, terrifying if you let yourself think about it - and so I don't. Instead I distract myself by thinking about other things such as the time my dad performed CPR and mouth to mouth on our dog. As the trainer talks about how deep you need to compress the chest for an adult, compared with a child or an in fact I find myself pondering, "what about a dog versus a puppy"? We learn where the put the defibrillator pads on both adults and children and I wonder whether fur would be an impediment. What can I say, I am an animal lover and I would perform CPR on my fur babies in a heartbeat (of course if there was a heartbeat I wouldn't need to). And then post course I take the dogs for a walk to visit the ducks and lizards at South Bank and Winkle tries to fall in a drain. I didn't need to perform first aid. I hope I never do. They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I this regard I say it's much better than no knowledge at all.