The Blue Bulletin - Edition 1

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15 September 2021 | Edition 1

COVID CANCELS CONFRO MASON OLIVER - YEAR 7 BAILLIE During the first week of the June/July holidays, our First XIII Rugby League team travelled to Brisbane to compete in the 2021 Queensland Confraternity Carnival.

Queensland Independent Secondary Schools Rugby League (QISSRL) is one of the largest schoolboy Rugby League competitions in Australia. A total of 57 teams from across Queensland participated in this carnival. This event was held at Brisbane’s Iona College.

At the end of day two, Iggy, led by Captain, Luke Jack, and Vice-Captain, Cathane Hill, were on a hot streak with three wins and looking good to back up their 2019 Confraternity Cup win. The boys had very convincing wins against Shalom (44–0), St Augustine’s (18–0), and Marist College Ashgrove (44–14), with Man of the Match performances from Luke Jack, Sean Bourke and Lachlan Lerch.

Unfortunately, their defence of their 2019 Cup win was cut short when Brisbane went into a snap lockdown on day three.

Five-eighth, Reece Foley, said, “The last game was our most satisfying win, as we were losing 14-0 at one stage but managed to come back and win 40-14!”

Confraternity Carnival Photo: Mr Shaun Clarke

Thomas Duffy IPC 2021 Aaron Payne Cup Photo: Townsville Bulletin

IPC have a rich and proud history at the Confraternity Carnival.

In the last 10 years, IPC have won the Cup five times.

Unfortunately, COVID meant that instead of flying home celebrating the Confraternity Cup win, they travelled home on a long 16-hour bus trip with no cup. Spirits remained high with many of the team looking forward to next year’s competition in Mackay.

Reece Foley said, “COVID ruined our carnival and our momentum, but hopefully we can still be as strong as we were this year for next year.”

Confraternity Carnival Photo: Mr Shaun Clarke

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That’s Debatable!

ANTSE MPUSETSANG - YEAR 7 BAILLIE

Iggy loses in competition.

a

debating

On 3 August, the Ignatius Park College Year 7 debating team fell short to St Patrick’s College in a debate. The event was held at Pimlico State High School and the teams debated the topic: students should learn to play a musical instrument.

Ignatius Park’s debating team consisted of Nate Antoniazzi, Louie Ferres, Antse Mpusetsang and Jake Piccolo. They were looking to make the semi-finals after coming off a blowout win against the Year 7/8 Southern Cross team with the topic school uniforms should be banned.

Ferres was asked about what had happened. “Well, I felt that we were the stronger side and we deserved to win,” he said. “But something we could have done was engage more in the debate and acted livelier when the opposition was speaking.”

For the round two debate, the boys decided to go with a more comedic approach, while the girls relied mainly on

Jake Piccolo, Nate Antoniazzi, Antse Mpusetsang & Louie Ferres Photo: Ms Marita Martinez

facts and figures. This ended up costing the boys some points for ‘breaking conventions.’ Going forward, this team will aim to make debate entertaining without breaking conventions.

As for the debating roles, Piccolo was the first speaker, followed by Mpusetsand,

then Ferres. Antoniazzi was the timekeeper.

This team was coached by Mrs Marita Martinez, who really did an incredible job with these boys.

A Blast from the Past!

LOUIE FERRES YEAR 7 PUTNEY The Back to the 80s Totally Awesome Musical was performed by the combined catholic schools on 30 and 31 June, and 1 July 2021 at the Townsville Civic Theatre. It was held so the audience could relive one of the greatest decades ever and was all because of the fantastic performances of the students and staff.

There were several participants from all three schools and several fantastic performances from the lead roles.

Marie Edwards, the director, is very experienced in her profession, having done many productions previously, which provided the group with guidance.

The second performance

Photo: Supplied

Even with the challenges of COVID, the audience was able to watch the children perform to see months of resilience and hard work.

Leo Hogan, who played one of the main characters, Corey Sr, thought that all of the performers were full of nervous energy for the first public showing of their work .

“The end of the show is always an emotional mixture: relief from the hard work and pressure of rehearsal and performance, and sadness for the loss of the time spent with friends supporting and relying on each other.”

The second performance

SEPTEMBER 2021 | EDITION 1 | PAGE 2

Photo: Supplied

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Diversity is the spice of life TYLER PANNACH - YEAR 8 RICE IPC Student, Tyler Pannach explains why young Australians need to be exposed to a more diverse stores in order to enrich their lives.

Dr Seuss, author of The Cat in the Hat, once wrote, “Fill your house with stacks of books, in all the crannies, and all the nooks.”

He wrote this because, as a famous children’s author, he knew the power of reading. He knew stories help people escape; they help us dream of what could be, and find out who we want to be.

Stories also allow us to see the world more clearly, and to help us see the world for all it’s cultural beauty.

As Australia is home to hundreds of different cultures, how does our Australian collection of stories measure up? Are all the diverse backgrounds through our collection explored? Stories are the most logical way to explore other cultures. For this reason, it is essential that we are exposed to a wider variety of diverse stories, stories like Lockie Leonard: Scumbuster.

Tim Winton’s popular teenage text is about a lovesick surfer negotiating the stages of adolescence. Lockie not only faces the challenging problems of growing up, managing friendships and falling in love, but he also tackles the environmental disaster his hometown is facing.

Opposite Lockie, is his new friend Egg. While Lockie is more of a boardies and thongs type of kid, Egg is a heavy metal and Doc Martins fan. Yet, the one thing they have in common is their passion to save the environment.

Lochie’s story is relatable: many teenagers can identify with Lochie’s ‘girl’ problems and managing new friendships. Winton’s novel, based off his own hometown (Albany) presents elements of his own childhood. It is this normality of the challenges teens face, experienced by Winton, which makes the story relevant for its audience.

before, or been crushed by heart break?

…it is essential that we are exposed to a wider variety of diverse stories, stories like Lockie Leonard: Scumbuster.

Beyond the characters and plot, and despite the humorous style of the text, Winton manages to express the seriousness of environmental pollution through his story. By writing about a kid much like himself, who goes through life’s ups and downs, Winton has achieved a smart, creative style of writing. This book is a constant reminder that there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

Lockie’s narrative is an easy story for teens to connect with, as it presents a range of Aussie stereotypes through its characters. But does it cover all different cultural groups and ethnic backgrounds?

There are many themes explored in this text, which all take part in making the story interesting to its readers. At its heart, this story is optimistic and hopeful. Even after Lockie’s sad state, things turn around for him.

As a reader, I could sympathise with Lockie and the string of unfortunate events that occur. I realise that there is a little bit of ‘Lockie’ in all of us : who hasn’t had a knock in the goolies

According to Linguistics Professor Stanford of Harvard University, “Reading is like a key, a key that leads to all the hidden and unforeseen beauty of the world.” This is a good point. When we expose ourselves to a range of books, we will come to discover all the world’s undiscovered magnificence.

Clearly, not only do we need to read more, but we must ensure writers give voice to those who are silenced. This way, we are all enriched: every nook and cranny.

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Readers Read Off MARCUS CARTER -= YEAR 7 REID The Readers’ Cup is an annual competition where teams from multiple schools read five books over one term before coming together at St Anthony’s College to compete.

Readers are asked questions about the five books which they were asked to read, and the winning team goes to Brisbane for the state finals.

The Ignatius Park College team, consisting of four contestants (Marcus Carter, Divjot, Tyler Shore and Jake Daldy) came fifth out of 29 school teams.

When Tyler Shore was questioned regarding the difficulty of Readers’ Cup, he said, “It was hard in the sense of the coordination between teammates.”

Tyler Shore was also asked if Readers’ Cup was challenging, stating “Yes, it is. But, some schools have just been introduced to Reader’s Cup while others have done it before and are more organised than the other teams.”

Readers Cup Team Photo: Supplied

IPC History JACK HEDGER - YEAR 7 NOLAN On 13 August, Ignatius Park College celebrated its birthday by having its annual Anniversary Mass. This year celebrates 52 years of teaching and encouraging high school boys. Mr Clarke, Principal of Ignatius Park College, said the Anniversary Mass also celebrates the “Spirit of Edmund Rice and what we stand for.”

The Mass was held in the Edmund Rice Hall and was organised by teachers and celebrated by Bishop of Townsville, Tim Harris, and Father Rod Ward, Ignatius Park College’s Chaplain.

The Mass was attended by current students and teachers with senior students taking on important roles within the Mass.

The Mass recognised the 8,500 students who have graduated from Ignatius Park College over the years.

Mr Clarke, said “It is important to remember the legacy of the people who have come before us and what they have done to change the school. We are celebrating that we are a Catholic school.”

Bishop Tim Harris and Father Rod Ward celebrating the Anniversary Mass Photo: Supplied

The Anniversary Mass Photo: Supplied

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Put Iggy Under the Stars in your calendar NATE ANTONIAZZI - YEAR 7 RICE The performance of the year is on at Ignatius Park.

On Saturday 21 August 2021, Ignatius Park College Creative Art students and staff presented Iggy Under the Stars.

This exciting event gave students a taste of performing and showcased their imagination and creativity.

“It is a wonderful evening that showcases the creative, talented art students we have at IPC,” explained Ms Tillack, Head of The Arts at Iggy Park.

“I encourage everyone to come along as there is a little bit of something for all ages.

We have live music, foreign films, drama skits, music videos and art exhibition. We also have Year 11 Hospitality students catering,” said Ms Tillack.

There were only 200 tickets, so some people were disappointed to miss out.

Next year get in quick to avoid missing out on this amazing event.

Our MC Axel Lincoln busting a rhyme with the Junior ensemble!

Cohan Russell from Year 11 serenading everyone with his beautiful voice and smooth guitar playing

The sword fight – Year 12 Axel Lincoln and Year 11 Drama students Austin Keane and Cohan Russell

Out With The Old In With The New RILEY SIEVERS - YEAR 7 TREACY

The Digital design of the Learning Resource Centre

Br Ray Weston, Br Jon Hansen and Mr Shaun Clarke farewell the Brothers House Photo: Mr Vilton Crasto

This year we saw the end of an era when the last of the Brothers’ house was demolished to make way for the new Learning Resource Centre at Ignatius Park College.

The Principal of Ignatius Park College, Shaun Clarke, said that the Brothers’ House had served the College well for 52 years.

“With the last of the Brothers on staff, Brother Jon Hansen was very admired and finished his full-time role at the school in 2019,” Mr Clarke said.

Year 7 student, Jesse Leo, said, “It is sad to see the Brothers’s house go, as it is the oldest building in the school.”

The Learning Resource Centre will be a modern innovative building and have several spaces where students can study and learn.

It will be a tranquil environment,

including a media room, a communication room, break out spaces, a lecture area, a café, and an outside area underneath an established green area.

The learning centre is planned to be constructed by mid-year 2022.

‘The school will continue to undertake works relative to the Master Plan where it benefits the boys learning, both socially, pastorally, technologically and academically,’ Mr Clarke said.

A few of the remaining bricks from the Brothers’ House have been saved and will be integrated into the new Learning Resource Centre in remembrance of the Christian brothers that have lived and worked at the school.

Brother Hansen was congratulated with an engraved plaque.

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Mulkadee 2021 HUDSON BAILEY - YEAR 7 REID AND TYLER SHORE - YEAR 7 BAILLIE

Mulkadee creates at storm of artistic talent and learning.

A mix of over 1000 talented students from Catholic schools in Townsville attended a weeklong event of choir, dance, drama, band, guitar and strings.

From 19-23 July, students from Ignatius Park College attended Mulkadee to improve their artistic performance and meet other inspiring students from schools all around the diocese. Together students attended workshops provided by local artists and professional instructors. Together, they collaborated to produce a twist on the production of the Wizard of Oz written by drama expert Arminelle Fleming.

Mulkadee helps to expose students, from Years 4-12, to professional training within the arts.

Ignatius Park College Year 7 student, Hudson Bailey, commented, “It was great to hang out with other schools in the area and improve my drama skills. I never thought I would have so much fun being involved in a production, it was amazing!”

On Friday night, the Townsville Entertainment Centre came alive with guitars, singing, strings and outstanding acting providing entertainment for over 2200 spectators.

Local artist Damien Hill, from Six Strings Townsville, ran the Mulkadee Guitar section and was impressed by the talent and improvement the students made throughout the week. He commented, “The kids have been great, they have surprised me heaps. I was concerned they wouldn’t be able to complete the songs I was giving them but they were absolutely nailing it.”

The students were commended on their enthusiasm and effort throughout the week ‘nailing’ each performance!

Previously, Mulkadee has told the stories of Alice in Wonderland (2018) and Peter Pan (2019), but due to COVID-19, the 2020 performance was cancelled.

The Mulkadee festival for 2021 has proven to be another successful event demonstrating the exciting talent within Townsville. Attendees and teachers are already looking forward to Mulkadee 2022 which will produce another spectacular show.

SEPTEMBER 2021 | EDITION 1 | PAGE 6

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Is Peter Pan flawing our kids?

CALAM SINCLAIR - YEAR 9 (NOLAN) Young children are a massive target for gullibility! Peter Pan could mistakenly blur the line between fact and fiction for our kids.

Disney’s 1953 animated film, Peter Pan, was a critical success.

You’ll surely have heard of this masterpiece. Peter Pan can inspire audiences, but is unrealistic in its depiction of what is humanly possible.

This film is unmistakably very unrealistic and exaggerated. This is perfectly fine for us—we understand the difference between realistic and not—but could it teach young children a different message? After watching Peter Pan, our kids may believe that any problem can simply be ignored indefinitely. Some children already believe this, and Peter Pan continues to harm their perception of reality.

This fantasy animated feature film is not the original take on the story. Disney’s 1953 Peter Pan was adapted from a 1918 Scottish play by J.M.Barrie. The character first appeared in Barrie’s 1902 novel, The Little White Bird.

Kids, being the intellectual sponges they are, gullibly soak up everything they see and hear. Sure, this may be good for their imagination but ultimately, it could affect their very attitude.

Disney attempts to communicate various important morals, the largest of which being how change is normal and unavoidable.

The original play casts Peter as a much The orchestration of this message more selfish and ignorant character than throughout the film is impressive, if it the family-friendly Disney adaptation. weren’t for Pan’s many flaws. These may The central idea of Peter Pan In the film, Pan is a living, breathing be effective for character development, symbol for not wanting to grow up. He is that you must eventually but a child would perceive him differently continuously goofs around and is never let go of things to mature audiences. His shortcomings, entirely serious. When confronted with although toned down from the original —like youth— change, Pan prefers to ignore the world play and overshadowed by his boyish and grow up. and continue as per usual. Children see charm, can still influence children to Pan as a good guy: doing everything right mimic his attitude. Neverland acts like a and nothing wrong. This is clearly not the safe space where Pan can live life exactly case with the character—he has major how he wants, but the real world is not Neverland and never shortcomings and vulnerabilities. Kids may perceive Pan’s will be. reality as a possibility for their life. They could become stubborn Peter Pan’s plot relies heavily on fantasy and imagination, being mainly set in an imaginary land with unreal characters (like pirates, mermaids and fairies). The film starts in London, introducing the three Darling children. One night, they meet Pan who is looking for his shadow. Pan invites the three kids to Neverland to join his ‘Lost Boys’—a group of lads who call Neverland their home.

Together they explore and enjoy this fantasy world.

Drama ensues when our protagonists are targeted and captured by Captain Hook’s pirates (Hook voiced by Hans Conried).

Overall, this plot is captivating and develops the characters well, but children could see a different side of the story.

and angry when tasked with chores or other responsibilities.

More of an issue is his ignoring of problems. I mean sure, they do eventually ‘beat’ the pirates, but after how long? Could a more focused hero have defeated Hook earlier?

The central idea of Peter Pan is that you must eventually let go of things—like youth—and grow up. The characters (and the viewer, hopefully) eventually learn the importance of this idea.

Eventually you must say goodbye. The only one who doesn’t learn this is Pan himself.

Disney films are all stuffed with morals and fluffed up to be family-friendly; sometimes, faults can seep through the cracks.

As MR Heraclius says on IMDb, “it’s an old movie, and people had a different way of thinking in 1953 than they do today.”

Even if completely mimicking Peter Pan is a worst-case scenario, it is important to show children the difference between fact and fiction.

I am not saying kids shouldn’t watch Peter Pan. I am giving some insight into the consequences of doing so.

SEPTEMBER 2021 | EDITION 1 | PAGE 7

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THE WRETCHED DISTANCE NATHANIEL BARTON - YEAR 10 PUTNEY The two young boys were out in an undoubtedly familiar place; through the hustle and bustle of the streets, they felt that there were endless possibilities. The strong smell of smoky street meat, the endless shouting and screaming of car horns, mixed in with the occasional piercing siren. There seemed to be millions of people, and with each that passed by, the boys wondered how far they could really go.

The boys looked up at the ginormous shining skyscrapers.

Manhattan, New York — this was their home. The two boys had lived in the city together all their lives, to the point where they were brothers. They were born on the same dark evening in a frigid November and their mothers had been best friends since they were bunked together in a women’s shelter some 20 years ago: the same shelter where the boys would be in-and-out of for the first half of their sixteen years of life.

The voice crackled and popped through the phone. “Pack your bags, we’re moving… tomorrow.” She hung up immediately.

The words cut through Luke. Although the boys had always considered moving, they never thought it would happen. They sprinted back to their neighbouring apartments and gave each other a nod of acknowledgement as they split up through their different doors. As Luke burst through his squeaky room door, he started yelling for his mother. “What do you mean we’re moving tomorrow?” He screamed, tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Pack your bags,” Luke’s mother responded. Her voice was quiet and shaky. As Luke turned the corner, he saw her: clothes as torn as wrapping paper on Christmas, sitting on the kitchen floor in a ball. She had been attacked. As Luke rushed over to his mother, a figure reached out of the shadows and pulled him back.

He flinched and turned around, the face he saw was horrifying.

It was his father.

Despite the bustle of the city, and the knowledge that, in this city, anything was possible, yet there was often a deep sense of crippling loneliness that the boys would feel from time to Luke quickly broke free from the tight grip, he swung his time. Whether it be on a quiet rainy day, or when the streets fist directly at the horrible man’s face, but it was shrouded in shadows. The figure ripped Luke’s arm were bogged with thick and heavy snow, out of the air, and he was in no position to they would sit thinking, dreaming, of life fight back. His body became a noodle, and …in this city, anything was in a smaller town, where everyone knew the man threw him onto the floor. As he everyone else and everyone could be possible, yet there was often swung the door to leave, the man uttered called a friend. a deep sense of crippling something. “I’ll be back”.

This was one of those days. Both Matt loneliness that the boys would Those words never left his head. As he feel from time to time. and Luke had felt this since the beginning, began packing his bags, they echoed in so it was normal for them. Despite the the back of his mind. When would he be crippling emotion, they needed something back? What will he do when he comes to do. back? The man that had attacked him was his abusive father.

Kicked out of the family only weeks after Luke had been born, “The arcade!” Matt exclaimed, “It’s only a block away.” the man grew a hateful resentment of Luke and his mother.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” responded Luke, his voice Luke flew through his closet, hurling clothes into as many bags filled with a sudden joy. as he could fit, he took his computer and everything else that he The immaculate internet café known as OS NYC was a popular could carry. As he and his mother got the last of the bags into the gathering area for anyone wanting to reminisce on their past or car, Luke brushed shoulders with Matt. He hadn’t thought about improve on their favourite games. The two boys were all too it until now, but he may never see Matt again. “I’m sorry,” he familiar with the place and knew every trick for every game, all muttered into Matt’s ear. The two boys shared a long hug, before the best computers, and even the secret pinball room that was Matt asked, “Why are you leaving?” Luke couldn’t respond. behind the toilet stall labelled ‘out of order’. The boys pushed They both knew that this would be the last time that they saw their way through the endless crowds of people, rushing towards each other for a very long time. Matt had an idea why Luke was the arcade. leaving. The fragility of his family and his safety were always major issues, but it had never gotten this bad.

Each of the boys were desperate to get to their favourite games, but as they paid their twelve dollars with crumpled Ones, Luke’s Luke stepped into the car, tears beginning to emerge. As he phone vibrated itself out of his pocket. “It’s my mum.” The drove away, he pressed his face against the back window of the shock and horror on Luke’s face and in his voice was terrifying. car and waved to his best friend from his former life.

His mother never called him, especially during the day. As he picked up the phone and said hello, his voice cracked worse than Where was Luke going? He didn’t know, no one did. All he ever before. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The news that was knew was that he was moving to another place, a quiet place heard through that phone was the most horrible thing that the where no one could ever reach him or his family. boys had ever heard.

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HE WILL NEVER FALL TREMAINE BODY - YEAR 12 NOLAN A deafening blast from a gun, far too close, penetrated his ears, disrupting the silence in which he stood tall. Through the thin piece of cloth blanketing his eyes, blurs and shadows were all that he could identify. Standing there in his dust-covered shirt–faded, torn, exposed–the ground beneath him radiated the sun’s unforgiving heat. This pitiless ground he once knew, now foreign, had claimed the lives of his brothers and sisters.

People wept, bullets fired, bodies dropped, yet there he stood tall. Fearless. As footsteps neared, and cries became silence, his stance grew, as did his pride. Finally, as the barrel of the rifle pressed firmly against his temple, he caught one last glimpse of his life story. A click filled the void of silence where a gunshot should have been, as he boldly took one deep breath. ******

Suddenly he’d noticed a disruption in the small crowd, a Kurd being mocked, abused, and forced out of the stands. He remembered the day he waited for his father’s return home, only to discover he too had suffered the injustice this innocent man was facing. Unlike the many rebels who fought this racial abuse, he hid away, throwing his culture out the window to protect his mother and sister. It was only then he realised that hiding wasn’t protecting them, only delaying their demise.

Adrenaline flew through his veins like a raging river, for he had a reason to win, a people to fight for. The final two laps were all that was left in front of his glory. He’d never felt more alive. His legs were like feathers gliding through the air, while his lungs were rich with oxygen, fueling his refreshed body. This rapid burst of speed shot him straight into third place. With one lap to go, victory was his to take.

His deep green eyes, like an emerald glistening in the sun, opened to an expansive blue sky, punctuated by white clouds, and caressed by a russet mountain range in the distance. Standing nervously on the soft, red track, surrounded by seven of the best runners in the country, excitement shot out from his stomach— nearly taking his lunch with it. There had already been a false start, which settled the nerves a bit, but he had trained for this for years. He was ready.

On overdrive, his entire body powered though the struggle: powered through the pain. He overtook second place as he rounded the last bend of the final lap. This People wept, bullets fired, was his chance. Straightening up and flying forward, he slowly passed the leading bodies dropped, yet there he racer. As he neared the finish line, he was stood tall. Fearless. ecstatic. Until he noticed something in the distance, flying high over the mountains.

He’d realised the sky was now black, filled by the smoke of a raging fire. Jets soared through this black smog, silencing the cheering crowd with their deafening The loud crack of a gun sent eight men off in a frenzy. The first turbines. The moment he crossed the finish line, something, 200 metres flew by before he even realised he was running. which at first glance looked like footballs, plummeted from the Seven laps to go. His slim legs persevered through the initial sky, tearing their way through the thick, black air, exploding the hammered fatigue, while lactic acid began to accumulate in his moment they caressed the soft, red track. thighs. Out of the thousands of races he’d been in, the one which they all led to was the one which felt the worst.

His mother and sister had been watching in the grandstand, screaming his name as he crossed the line. Without hesitation, he Six laps to go. Already falling behind, he felt drained. With sprinted towards their stand. After several explosions, the dust his legs on auto-drive, his mind became occupied, searching settled in the black, dangerous surroundings. Rubble. There was for distractions from his increasing pain. Smoke arose in the nothing he could do. His heart was ripped from his chest and distance, over the mountains, and his wandering brain came to drained of all its love. They needed justice…all of them. focus on it. As he neared the beginning of the fifth lap, the black smog rose higher, slowly filling the blue and white skies. He kept running, feeling slightly less fatigued from the brief interruption. ****** By the halfway mark, he was exhausted. His legs felt like boulders. It took every ounce of energy to continue moving along the endless red track. Sweat flushed from his body, like a dam opening a floodgate; while his shoes became ovens, slowly and painfully roasting his feet. His arms were tired of the looped back and forth motion they seemed to be trapped in, while his irregular breathing intervals failed to replenish his struggling lungs.

The rifle, now reloaded and ready to take another life, pressed back against his temple. With only moments left, he lifted his chin just the slightest bit more, took a deep calming breath and sighed with relief; for he was about to see his family. He stood taller than ever before. And, because of his honour, perseverance, and strength, he will never fall.

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ALONE TENZIN DALY - YEAR 11 PUTNEY Silence permeates the battlefield, saturating the cadavers scattered across the ground like a blanket suffocating the breeze.

Discarded weapons protrude from broken bodies, silhouetted against the sinking sun. My head rests on a pillow of corpses, transfixed on the sky as inky black crows begin to blot out the heavens. I will die soon.

My impending doom does not fear me; the dull repetitive nature of combat has rendered me numb. Fear, sadness and love are all alien concepts. I was not always like this, but such is the price of war. A mighty cliff face will inevitably succumb to the constant raging of an ocean. Impervious mountains will be eroded until steadfast values become hollow morals that sink beneath the waves like sediment.

searching for the sunlight that used to nourish them. Notes from an old song flitter through my consciousness, reaching for the surface but just falling short. I remember her tinkling laugh, like water tumbling from a fountain. It slips away from me as I try to grasp it, try to remember it. The hazy figure of a woman floats tantalizingly out of focus behind my eyelids. Strangely, a deep ache begins to pang deep within my chest.

A shuffling pulls me from my reminiscing; the old man is sitting down beside me, and his hands enter my narrowing vision.

They are a sharp contrast to my mother’s tender loving hands.

The tools before me are blunt instruments of death, intersected frequently with scars. It is like words are written across his body, spelt in an arcane alphabet, telling a story of loss, isolation, and sadness. Like me, his body is a mosaic of experiences.

I lie on a macabre mattress, encased in my bloody and damaged armour; a fractured shell which mirrors its interior. A lone With a coarse cough and a swallow that plays with his Adam’s figure is carving their way through a space thick with black apple, the elder begins to sing. The putrid air is filled with a feathers and cold bodies towards where I lay. He coalesces mournful melody, drenched in heartache. Sombre tones echo with the long shadows cast by dusk as he slinks closer until it around the desolate field, causing even the hungry crows to is his own shadow pouring down on me. stop and listen. Lying on my back, I feel His presence seems to relieve the wind, as though he is weaving a cocoon of allowing a breeze to whisper between warmth around me. While my physical arrow fletchings and sword hilts. An old pain is alleviated, another type of pain is man stands before me, watching the earth Within those eyes, I recognise amplified, one that hurts so much more greedily drink up my lifeblood. a similar loneliness: a solitary than any flesh wound ever could.

feeling that swamps his irises...

Long unkempt hair rests on shoulders that stoop under an invisible weight. Skin, so wrinkled it looks like melting candle wax, is tight against gaunt cheek bones. It is his electric blue eyes, however, that hold my attention. Within those eyes, I recognise a similar loneliness: a solitary feeling that swamps his irises, stretching unfathomably deep into his cavernous pupils. But there is something else

An incredible sense of familiarity floods my system as I remember a similar pair of eyes and the warm smile that used to accompany them. My father’s strength was an inspiration for joining the army. I wanted to mimic the security he brought my family. It was his principles that I took with me to war; it was those same principles that war stripped away.

Illustration by Benjamin Thompson Year 11 Putney

I remember my family.

I remember those I left behind. And I remember her. Seeds buried deep within my mind push against their confines.

Neglected roots are revitalised, growing like weeds through cracks in a brick wall,

Once again I am reminded, this time of the soothing lullabies my wife would sing to our children. She would sing until they drifted off to sleep, pouring all her affection and love into the dulcet notes.

The old man’s tune is building to a crescendo, and internally, I feel the dam suppressing my emotions is ready to burst.

And then it does.

My glassy eyes bring forth a monsoon. Tear ducts struggle against the onslaught of salty tears which streak down my cheeks, glinting golden in the dying sunlight. I can feel the grime caking my face and my soul being washed away by this cathartic cleanse. For the first time in decades, I also feel sadness. I feel the love I have for my family. I feel fear as my end draws near.

I do not notice the old man stop singing, nor do I notice the crows lose interest. Even as the old man stands back up and walks away, I do not notice. Instead, I peacefully lie there in a crimson puddle. The final tendrils of sunlight kiss my cheeks as the giant orb silently slips below the horizon. A cool wind blows through the empty battlefield. Nothing moves except for a lone traveller coated in the golden slivers of dying light.

I am alone with my memories – silent sentries – and I smile.

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THE DARKROOM LLEYTON JACKSON - YEAR 12 BAILLIE The darkroom provided a rare sense of peace and tranquillity for those inside. Outside’s turmoil and conflicts became obsolete and time was obliterated, overshadowed, by the room’s blackness, silence, and separation. A singular red light danced around the bare concrete walls, flickering to an unsystematic rhythm, and softly illuminating the workspace below. The room was stained with a one-of-a-kind stench from the decade long use of harsh, toxic chemicals. An ineffective air purifier located above the door frame murmured a soothing buzz which echoed through the sombre chamber.

anguish on such a young and innocent face emphasised the futile motivation of this unwinnable war. Instinctively, I wanted to help her, but the danger of the unknown prevented me from moving. Shrieking in terror, a soldier doused the girl’s burns in water as she collapsed and lost consciousness. ****** With an abrupt splash, Phillip’s metal forceps now laid at the bottom of the chemical bath, the solution searing his hands.

He was motionless. The sound and pain triggered deep-buried memories: flashbacks to that ill-fated moment where his strength of character faltered. Phillip sobbed as he dropped to his knees, clenching the wooden cross that hung from his neck. He had the opportunity to demonstrate his righteousness yet lacked the courage and bravery to do so. A true soldier would have risen in the eyes of adversity, overcome their inner demons, and exercised their duty of care for innocent civilians.

Gripping the cold silver handle, Phillip closed the wooden door and blocked the flood of morning summer sunshine from entering the room. It had been almost three years since he last had the opportunity to develop his photography. The room, which once provided him great comfort and respite, now seemed awfully foreign. His eyes were no longer accustomed to the sheer darkness and struggled to identify his surroundings.

Reaching, he yanked the perished, pull cord string, powering the defective lamp and partially lighting the room. He carefully removed dozens of film canisters from a rotten, wooden milk crate, categorizing them sequentially on Phillip was paralysed in the desk according to dates and locations that the images were photographed. fear; his pulse raced as he

recollected the horrors of Day, 1972.

“Where do I even start?” he pondered as Christmas he attentively scrutinised the writing on each container. The words ‘Phnom Penh – 25/12/72’ stood out like a sore thumb.

Phillip was paralysed in fear; his pulse raced as he recollected the horrors of Christmas Day, 1972.

Submerging the roll of film into the chemical solution, he was no longer zealous to develop his creative work, but rather dreaded the memories that may resurface. In Phillips mind, photography was a means to express positive energy through the power of imagery. It enabled the world to capture moments and cherish precious memories for years to come. He was now realizing, however, that not everything deserved to be documented; some memories should be locked away and never reopened. His body trembled as he extracted the first image, dispersing a suffocating whiff of pungent chemicals. Ghostly figures and faces formed before his eyes, painting a portrait of terror and agony.

Phillip’s frustrations continued to bubble within, tormenting his every thought. He was not sent as the ‘middle-man’ to cast a true light on the impacts of major conflicts, but rather the slave of a media giant which cared about nothing more than monetary gain. In his mind, the public received only a small glimpse of the real burdens of war. Although his images would attract the attention of audiences, their distorted representation will alter their ability to resonate with readers.

In desperate need of fresh air, Phillip flicked the latch and the door creaked open; endless rays of sunshine cascaded into the dark studio. A choir of birds chirped in the trees, bees levitated above sweet orange nectar, and butterflies danced in the aromatic air. Although it was a postcard perfect day, Phillip remained plagued by feelings of sadness and guilt which were only exacerbated by his newly developed photograph. He could not escape his darkness; it weighed him down. Whilst the outside world appeared calm and tranquil, a storm continued to brew within.

****** There were five, maybe six children running towards me, all screaming, crying. Thick black smoke encompassed where the temple once stood; it spread like an epidemic throughout the surrounds. A young girl, no older than ten, was naked and moaning uncontrollably in pain. The vision of her tearing the burning clothes from her diminutive body is entrenched in my memory vault. Napalm scalded her upper body, inducing inconceivable—vicious—suffering. The raw impression of

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THE SQUARE PEG DANIEL MOSCH - YEAR 10 BAILLIE Cooper sat slumped against the cold, stained olive wall of the concrete cell. The stench was nauseating, a mix of unwashed human sweat and urine. His head throbbed. He’d hit it on a beer bottle lying in the gutter when he was tackled by a policeman.

He knew these bunkers were the ‘watch house’. He could hear a deep voice trying to console a hysterical inmate. Clanging sounds of metal doors could be heard, along with the occasional burst from a frustrated detainee, “Let me out! I wanna go home!”

The prosecutor stood up. “Your Honour, it is alleged the defendant, Cooper Evans, entered a Condon house through an open window and stole $1000 in cash.” He continued, “He has been charged with one count of illegal entry and two counts of theft.”

Cooper thought of home. He had no home. There had been a time, long ago now, when he had a family. He could no longer picture his mother, but he had a vague memory of her presence. It had warmed him, like a wood fire on a cold night.

She was barely seventeen when Cooper was born. Thrown out of the house by her parents, she’d taken up with the boyfriend.

Cooper remembered more distinctly the fights, abuse, and the breakdown. At twenty-four, she died from a methamphetamine overdose. His father had been replaced by a succession of stepfathers. Most ignored him, but one had beaten him so badly that Cooper was eventually placed in the custody of the child safety department.

Cooper stood mute. What did they want him to say? “I’ll rephrase,” said the Magistrate impatiently. “Did you unlawfully enter into this house and take money that did not belong to you?”

The magistrate framed it so simply. But it was not that simple for Cooper.

Life in foster care had not been much better. Cooper was an imposter. An outsider, a charity case who did not belong.

His brooding, introverted nature made people think he was difficult or simple. He was neither, but grief had him stuck, like an excavator bogged in a dam. He floated from one home to the next. Finally, a disgruntled do-gooder raised his hand in a fit of rage, urging him to ‘repent or he would find himself in hell in the next life.’ Cooper was done. He was done with it all. He’d skipped out and joined a gang of other young kids.

Kids, like him who were angry. Vagrants. Juvenile delinquents.

Angry, but mostly lost. Kids who would go to any length to survive.

The big steel cell door swung open unexpectedly. “Come on.

It’s time to go upstairs.” Squinting, Cooper could make out the silhouettes of two watch house officers. They led him out from the cell. He could feel his insides squeeze tight like a vice. Lack of sleep, and a sore head from the thumping, made him feel dizzy, light-headed and off kilter. His belly growled, like a halfstarved hyena. He had not eaten anything decent in days. Cooper and the officers continued moving through corridors, until they reached a large, tinted glass door.

An officer appeared. “They’re ready for him now.” He took Cooper through the door into the courtroom dock. It was barricaded by glass screening and equipped with padded seating and a microphone.

Cooper stared wide-eyed around the extravagant court room.

The high, embossed ceiling, with its palatial oak timber wall panelling and the stone square tapered columns were almost grand. It was the antithesis of the gloomy, filthy watch house.

Cooper sat stiffly, in his ripped and filthy clothes, with a grimy face and messy hair.

“Right,” the magistrate said. “Mr Evans, how do you plead to the charges against you?”

“Yes, sir, but only because- “ “Thank you, Mr Evans, that will be all,” the magistrate cut him off. “Does either counsel have further details to present before sentencing?”

A young Barrister stood up. “Yes, your honour,” she replied while fumbling her papers. “I’m from Legal Aid Queensland, and I’ve been appointed to represent Mr Evans.” Cooper had not seen her before. She looked younger, less experienced, and more agitated.

“Cooper has been in the custody of the department of child safety since he was removed from his abusive stepfather’s care.

He was placed in foster homes. But behavioural issues resulted in short term accommodation only. School attendance has been sporadic. His literacy results indicate he has the reading level of an eight-year-old.”

Cooper was embarrassed. He felt like an idiot. He couldn’t learn as well as the other kids.

“Your honour, sentencing Cooper to detention would only expose him to the behaviour and attitudes of other, high-risk juveniles. Rather, with probation, he could attend school and engage in community programs.”

The prosecutor cut in, “Your honour. The detention centre has schooling programs that run five days a week. These would perfectly suit a boy like this.”

‘A boy like this’. Cooper... knew what that meant. A boy no one wanted. A square peg in a round hole.

“At least in detention, we could be assured that he would attend school. He would be off the streets, and incapable of causing trouble.” Cooper saw the spectators in the gallery nodding in agreement. He gripped the rail tightly, his hands shaking. The prosecutor continued. “This report states there were others involved in the burglary, but they evaded the police. Your honour, I propose, if Cooper names the others involved, this indicates remorse, and the more lenient sentence of probation could be applied. If not, he should be sentenced to detention.”

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 6 The magistrate turned to Cooper. “Mr Evans, who were the others involved in this burglary incident?” Cooper sat frozen. He stared at the magistrate wide eyed. They were the only people he trusted. They had provided for him in his most desperate times. But the only other option was jail. His throat was dry.

“Mr Evans?” the Magistrate directed impatiently.

Cooper looked at him stupefied. The light-headedness he felt before was washing over him again. His breathing became fast and shallow. His chest hurt. He felt alone. Helpless.

“Very well then.” the Magistrate paused. Cooper tried to speak.

His vision blurred. He did not want to cry. But he knew tears were close.

“Cooper Evans,”. Cooper watched in dread as the Magistrate picked up his gavel. “I sentence you to one year’s detention at Cleveland Youth Detention Centre.”

ONE TABLE, ONE PARK JAIRUS BUTALID - YEAR 12 PUTNEY Six years ago, I first walked through the gates of Ignatius Park College insecure and doubtful. I was scared back then, but now I feel courageous and brave.

Where has time gone? When you’re having fun, time seems to fly. The education I received, and the bonds of brotherhood I have made, are beyond compare. I am filled with mixed emotions: there’s the sorrow in saying farewell, and the excitement to step into another chapter of my life. My brothers and I are ready to embark on another journey to pursue our dreams and serve our communities.

The students at Ignatius Park College share a culture to live simply by the Edmund Rice Tradition and uphold the mission and vision of the school.

This goes beyond representing the College in interschool events and our daily interactions in the community. It permeates through every element of our schooling. Like the Australian culture of mateship, the brotherhood in the College runs deep. Belonging in a particular house has strengthened this bond over the years.

We share one table, one park.

As a senior, I ensure the younger ones are welcomed and treated with respect and given equal opportunities. Reaching out and making them feel at home is important; I can relate to how daunting new beginnings can be. I try to instill in my brothers the right mindset to seek truth, live with humility, and make a difference. Knowing that the people

around me support, love, and care for me is enough to make me feel comfortable and safe. And that is precisely what every child needs at home, in school and in society.

My parents had already shaped my values of respect and kindness; these deepened within the school environment.

Misrepresented as the quiet and shy type, I have now learned to speak out and assert myself when needed. I believe that each person plays a different role, has a time to shine at the right time and place.

The brotherhood at this school has undergone numerous challenges: from the influences of social media to a global pandemic. Students deal with school as well as other societal issues. School kids get overwhelmed and react differently to the negativity around them. Some can hardly cope, while others will find the silver lining, or accept that things happen for a reason. For instance, with this pandemic, a lot of travel plans were cancelled, including the College’s Rugby Union tour to New Zealand. I was really looking forward to this adventure.

However, this was a minor loss. I feel for those experiencing on-going lockdowns in other states, particularly my fellow Year 12 students. Home school can’t compare to being at the real place. I needed the physical interactions, activities and class learning that have made the last year of high school more exciting and memorable. More than that, I needed my friends for their optimism, our shared

aspirations, to keep me going and to live fully in the present.

At our tables, we shared our stories, triumphs, and defeats, making memories that tightened our bond. This one park, where we survived six years of education, will always be special in our hearts that are full of gratitude to our teachers and parents. They have witnessed us grow into young men. We are left wondering: have we made you proud of us? Have we made a difference in your life?

To my friends, this is not goodbye, but a ‘till we meet again’. I hope for a bright future for each of my brothers, and for them to surpass life’s challenges and trials. My dream is for all of us to live guided by values, seek truth, achieve success, and be blessed. I hope that we use wisely the knowledge and skills we have gained from this school. May our bonds stay strong and remain steadfast whenever and wherever we may be.

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Iggy Park Boys at the Challenge Games JACHRI LABAN - YEAR 7 TREACY On the 28 and 29 July, six students from Ignatius Park College participated in the Annual Challenge Games at Red Track Townsville. The boys went there to have lots of fun and meet people from other schools.

At the Challenge Games there were many games like high jump, vortex and shotput. There were also running races and long jump.

The Challenge Games brought people together from schools all over North Queensland. It gives students, with different levels of disabilities, the opportunity to compete and have fun with other students like themselves.

All of the students were given many ribbons at the end of each event which they wore pinned proudly to their shirts. Although, both days at the track were very hot, all of the students were given ice creams to cool down.

There were many volunteers helping on both days, including volunteers from the Army, Iggy Park Old Boys and even some Blackhawks’ football players, plus many teachers and parents.

Ms Sheppard said, “The students always have a wonderful experience at the Challenge Games.”

For some students it was also a great way to catch up with their teachers from their primary school days.

The Challenge Games were fun and exciting days for everyone, and all students look forward to going again year after year.

Ignatius Park College at the Challenge Games Photo: Supplied

Charlie Comes away with the Crown JAKE DALDY - YEAR 7 NOLAN On 17 June, eight students competed to be the fastest to solve a Rubik’s Cube in IPC. Charlie Barringhaus came first and got the prize of $100 to Stockland and the glory of winning.

Charlie was asked if he was worried about going on to stage. ‘I was anxious about walking onto the stage before the competition, my heart was racing, and my hands were shaking as well,’ he said.

‘When I was standing on stage before it began, I was also very nervous all I could think about was the fact that everyone was watching me.’

When asked what it felt like to win, he responded “When I won it felt very unreal and I didn’t expect myself to win so I was very happy. My hands were also very shaky when I won as well.”

It was a fun competition which many enjoyed.

Jake Daldy solving a Rubik’s Cube

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Touch teams to The Gold Coast COOPER BLOXSOM - YEAR 7 BAILLIE A couple of weeks ago, Ignatius Park College competed at the NQ All Schools Touch competition. The U13, U15 and Opens teams all competed and won their grand finals.

The U13 team stood out because they were undefeated and had no tries scored against them and won every game by 6-0 or more.

‘I’m very proud of all their efforts,’ said Mr Guerra.

After destroying Kirwan in the Grand Final 8-0, with great defence and awesome attack, they secured the win.

All three teams are off to the Gold Goast to compete in the Queensland All Schools competition in October. This competition won’t be as easy and will truly test the boys’ potential.

Donations for the Townsville Women’s Centre and Drop In Centre Photo: Mrs Kim Steele

IPC says ‘YES’ to Respect TYLER BROWN - YEAR 7 NOLAN Ignatius Park College held a Domestic and Family Violence Awareness Week, this year between 26-30 July.

Ignatius Park College did this to try to bring awareness to domestic and family violence in the community and to the support opportunities. The theme of the week was the slogan ‘Say Yes to Respect’.

This year they had purple stickers distributed among the students, on Wednesday the ‘Yes to Respect’ flag was flown, on Thursday a guest from the North Queensland Domestic and Family Violence Resource Centre spoke to the students on Assembly, and on Friday every student was treated to a cupcake with the words ‘Yes to Respect’ on it.

The colour purple is a symbol for peace,

courage, survival, and honour; it is there to remind us to have the courage to say we will not stand for domestic and family violence, and to acknowledge the survivors and victims.

When asked about domestic violence, Ms Loechel says ‘Domestic violence is violence that happens at home where one person seek control and dominate another. To help domestic violence you can listen to victims and be a good friend to them.’

Domestic and family violence can come in many shapes and forms such as physical, sexual, emotional and financial.

It can impact kids by causing long-term, and short-term distress.

Help is available at IPC from our School Counsellors.

Raising the Domestic and Family Violence Week flag Photo: Supplied

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Ignatius Park College invites you to the

Iggy Park Deadlys Recognising and celebrating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Programs.

Wednesday 13 October, 2021 | 5.45PM Ignatius Park College - Edmund Rice Hall Awards, dance performances, special guest speakers, Traditional Kup Murri dinner and kids’ activities.

Bookings are essential for COVID-19 purposes, please RSVP by Monday 4 October, 2021 Book online: https://www.trybooking.com/BUPES

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