College Crow, Semester 1, 2019 by PLC Sydney

College Crow

PLC Sydney's Student Magazine

Wonderland Journey down the rabbit hole

Semester 1 2019

Contents From the Editor

The Atrocity of Perfection

Wonderland Article

Santa and the Tooth Fairy

Eat Me! Drink Me!

Deputy Editor/Head of Design: Angeni Bai (Year 12). Assistant Editors: Shirley Chen (Year 11), Horatia Ma (Year 10), Imogen Sabey (Year 9), Amelia Su (Year 9), Grace Zhu (Year 12).

She 11

Assistant Design/Layout: Shirley Chen (Year 11), Lea Eland (Year 7), Natalie Epstein (Year 7), Julia Fang (Year 7), Tay Leung (Year 12), Audrey Storer (Year 7), Yvonne Zhao (Year 9).

Wonderland Short Story

Staff Coordinator: Ms Kathryn Munro.

The World Outside Wonderland

The Daily Bull

but it's endless...

The Seat

Food Wonderland

PLC Sydney Bubblers

College Crow Committee: Katelyn Ali Beck (Year 7), Angeni Bai (Year 12), Aurelia Bergin (Year 7), Claire Bui (Year 10), Zhiwei Cai (Year 10), Talei Chang (Year 9 external contribution), Olivia Chan (Year 7), Shirley Chen (Year 11), Danavidya Dayaparan (Year 8), Grace Du (Year 8), Lea Eland (Year 7), Natalie Epstein (Year 7), Alison Fang (Year 7), Julia Fang (Year 7), Amy Feng (Year 8), Julie Gao (Year 9), Mackenzie Griffiths (Year 10), Isabelle Ho Shon (Year 7), Zara Howard-Jones (Year 7), Shirley Huang (Year 9), Amy Hur (Year 10), Annika Johansson (Year 9), Emelie Johansson (Year 9), Makayla Johnson (Year 10), Aileen Kim (Year 7), Kate Kim (Year 7), Lydia Kim (Year 7), Joanne Law (Year 7), Su Yee Lay (Year 7), Natasha Lee (Year 10), Vicky Lei (Year 7), Malena Lemoto (Year 10), Tay Leung (Year 12), Emily Li (Year 10), Jenny Liu (Year 8), Linda Liu (Year 11), Horatia Ma (Year 10), Aarna Nebhani (Year 7), Emma O'Dea (Year 10), Olivia Oh (Year 8), Tansy Pham (Year 9), Sasha Prokhorov (Year 7), Imogen Sabey (Year 9), Olivia Silva (Year 12), Audrey Storer (Year 7), Amelia Su (Year 9), Jennifer Su (Year 8), Phoebe Tweedy (Year 7), Jasmin Usham (Year 9), Carolyn Wang (Year 7), Iris Xu (Year 8), Isabella Zhang (Year 9), Katherine Zhang (Year 9), Yvonne Zhao (Year 9), Grace Zhu (Year 12).

Wishes 24 High School is a Wonderland

What does University Give Us?

Alice in Wonderland Facts

The Mad Hatter: An Origin Story

Fun Facts You Didn't Know About Teachers

Character Profiles (Reversed) for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland 32 Pun Wars

Olivia's Comic Corner

Alex in Technoland

Front cover illustration: Annika Johansson (Year 9). Back cover illustration: Emelie Johansson (Year 7). Stock photo credits: Santa and Tooth Fairy p. 8, Utensils p. 22, Teapot p. 29 created by www.freepik.com. Forest photo p. 28 created by welcomia www.freepik.com. Chair p. 21 © Shutterstock | Ugorenkov Aleksandr.

Warning: Please see page 8 before allowing younger readers access to the magazine.

Meet tHE COMMITTEE!

PLC Sydney College Crow

From THE Editor Some thoughts from our 2018 – 2019 Publications Captain, Grace Zhu. sometimes rowdy, but they were a place where creativity could run splendidly wild and free. First of all, I would like to thank my friends and family for being so supportive and helpful throughout this whole journey. When there were times where I needed some advice and support, I knew you had my back and you have all helped shape me into a better captain and person. I would like to address the girls of College Crow. Girls, I cannot emphasise enough just how amazing and awesome you all are. You have so much talent, and you must believe in the boundless potential that you all have within you. Continue to write, illustrate, edit and design, and always remember that you can do whatever you put your mind to. Harness the skills and talent that you already have, and continue to use them. I am so, so proud of all of you. Thank you for making my time as captain such an enjoyable and lovely time. And to think that this is my last chance to speak on behalf of College Crow as their captain - how quickly time has passed! I can still clearly remember my first College Crow meeting as captain, and I can honestly say I was absolutely terrified. There was a whole stream of thoughts and doubts flooding my mind: Would I be able to take on this role and its responsibilities? Would I be a good enough captain? Would I be able to lead these talented girls well?

Last but not least, thank you Ms Munro. You have guided me from the very first day with the same vigour and energy, and it has been an amazing experience working with you. With your expertise and knowledge, your infinite patience and determination and absolutely incredible organisation skills, you have laid strong foundations for the College Crow to grow and prosper. This magazine could not have been possible without your invaluable input, and I cannot thank you enough.

I can definitely say that I’m still learning every single day. The role of Publications Captain has had its hard times, but it has been so rewarding to see all the girls’ talents, their energy and the sheer passion that they bring to the meetings and their work. Looking back, the meetings every Monday lunch time were

Without further ado, I wish you well for your journey into College Crow’s ‘Wonderland’. Ranging from opinion articles, to illustrations, to stories, to fun satirical pieces and to comics, I hope you will find this edition of College Crow a magical journey that will inspire and enchant you with its undeniable charms.

The College Crow

CHEck out

Committee meets

College Crow online:

monday lunchtimes

go to Places /

in Rm q206 (old Rm 28)

College crow

All welcome!

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Semester 1 2019

The Atrocity of Perfection Story by Grace Du and Jenny Liu (Year 8), continued from Semester 2 2018, pages 20–21.

A hand gently touched my face. “Can you open your eyes?” whispered the familiar voice of a little girl. “Julia?” I mumbled, straining to open my eyes. The light was so bright, piercing at me, glaring at me from the white walls. “Julia, is that you?” Julia? whispered my mind. Who is Julia? A vague image of a little girl with long, fiery red hair drifted into my mind, curling and unravelling like a spring breeze long forgotten. “My name is Eliza.” said the girl confidently. “H... hi.” “Welcome to Aryas.” “Where... am I?” “Aryas.” She laughed a little-girl laugh, but something didn’t seem right. I disregarded it as my normal suspicion of strangers, and tried to get out of bed. “No, no.” Eliza said, pressing me back into the covers, still with that unnerving smile on her face. Her skin was pea green, her face framed by wisps of almost-white blonde hair. “You need rest. After that, you can see outside. All new arrivals require a moment of rest.” “I’ve rested enough.” I said irritably, again trying to get out of bed. “Don’t challenge me.” Eliza hissed suddenly, glaring at me. Shocked, I drew back. Immediately, her face filled with that welcoming smile again. I preferred the hissing, glaring Eliza; it seemed like that was her real self, and I’d much rather that to this... this fakely-pleasant angel. “Where is my sister?”

“Your sister?” “... Yes. Julia.” “You remember her?” Eliza looked shocked, and a little scared. “Wait here. Don’t move.” She turned and walked quickly towards a spraypainted, many-petaled red flower on the wall. Its petals unfurled as she approached, and the white wall separated, revealing a corridor. I caught a glimpse of a corridor lined with many white doors, before Eliza slipped through and the wall slid back. Disregarding Eliza’s instructions, I again attempted to slip out of bed. I was dressed in a soft, drifting, cream-coloured nightgown that reached my knees. I walked towards the red flower, hoping that the wall would slide open, but to my dismay, it did not. Well, what was I expecting? I turned towards the rest of the room, surveying it. The bed with its clean white sheets and thin cover sat in the centre, but there was no other furniture or decorations. There was a large, polished window situated next to the bedstand, and I peered out of it. I saw a festive, pleasant scene of a few young gentlemen and girls, clustered around five gold chariots. The chariots had strong, beautiful grey horses attached to them. As I watched, one of the girls chased after another, but they all laughed good-heartedly. The horses pawed the green meadow grass underneath their hooves, throwing their heads and tightly-braided manes back, neighing in celebration. Of what, I didn’t know. It was a joyous scene, to be sure. There was no pain, or suffering, or hate, or fighting. It seemed so perfect. But then, what was it that nagged at my heart and stopped me from feeling happy, PLC Sydney College Crow

like them? What stopped me from trusting the angelically well-behaved Eliza? What stopped me from liking this seemingly-perfect new place? I closed my eyes, trying to grasp a clear memory of Julia, the sister I knew I had. What had happened to her? Why did my heart throb with pain every time I thought of her, why did my throat get all choked up? And why was Eliza so worried about the fact that I remembered Julia? Was I not supposed to? Was I, perhaps, different to those pleasant people of Aryas? I heard soft footsteps walking up to my room, and I quickly slid back into bed, closing my eyes as if asleep. Maybe Eliza wouldn’t bother me if I was asleep. But it was not Eliza’s little-girl voice that called me. Instead, it was the ladylike voice of an older woman, perhaps middle-aged. “So, Jessica. Is that your name?” Forgetting that I was supposed to be asleep, I opened my eyes to stare at the woman. She was tall, with a tightlytied bun of white hair. Like Eliza, her skin was a light pea green. “I don’t know.” I replied truthfully. The woman laughed a little. “Of course not. I don’t know what Eliza was babbling about, saying that you recalled your mem--” “Actually, yes. I do remember. My name is Jessica Kovsten. Jessica Belle Kovsten.” The woman frowned at me. “What else do you remember about your past life, Jessica?” She asked softly. I knew from experience that when adults talked softly, they were mad. Cautiously, I answered. “I remember my little sister, Julia Kovsten. I... I don’t remember what happened to her.” “Any family, friends, Jessica?” “Friends... there was another girl. She had brown hair, I recall.” “Elizabeth Sorensky...? Does that ring a bell, Jessica?” She kept saying ‘Jessica’ every time she asked me a question, as if I had forgotten my own name. But by the way she talked, maybe I was supposed to be able to forget my own name so easily. Forgetting my own name easily seemed like forgetting my identity, in a way. Forgetting my ‘past life’, and who I really was. I was scared, so scared, that it might actually happen. “You don’t recall anything else, Jessica?” “No.” “Hmm, perhaps the serum just wasn’t applied properly... I’ll give you resting time now, Jessica. Eliza will be here to tend you if you require it. Try not to get out of bed.” She walked with quick footsteps out of the room. Semester 1 2019

--After what seemed like many boring, dreary weeks of staring at a clean white wall and sleeping and eating the meals Eliza brought silently on trays, the woman returned. “You will be joining the community of Aryas today, Jessica. I’m sorry for the delay, your recalling of memories from your past life was worrisome. Have you looked out of the window?” I hesitated. “Yes, Miss. I have.” “Excellent. Then you’ll know what Aryas is like. You see, Jessica, Aryas is a perfect wonderland. A wonderland of happiness, festivity, celebration and just a little bit of magic. Life will be perfect for you in Aryas, and you will have everything that you ever need. You may struggle a little because you still recall bits of your past life, but that’s acceptable. You’ll be happier than you ever were in your past life. I know that it was tragic then, so Aryas must be even sweeter now. Eliza will bring your clothes in a moment. In the meantime, Jessica, tell me... Have you dreamed at all in these past few weeks?” “No, Miss. And that’s strange, because I’m used to dreaming a lot.” “Ah, then the serum must be doing some of its job. Dreams open a pathway for the mind to recall memories, you see. And in Aryas, where we want to forget about all of that, we don’t like that. You’ll find that nobody in Aryas dreams when they sleep, child.” “Isn’t that awful? Not having any memories or hopes?” “No, it’s not as bad as you make it sound, Jessica. Having painful memories from your past life... Jessica, have you never wished you didn’t remember something? That you could just erase memories from your mind?” “Well, yes.” I answered. “Of course. But there are more memories I want to keep. Miss, if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to go back to my past life. I know that you say Aryas is perfect, but I want my real life. With memories, and dreams, and hopes, and all of the people of my old world. Please, give me that back.” “This is your real life now, Jessica.” “I don’t want it.” “Do you recall what happened to Julia? Not yet, I’d assume. Julia was shot dead, Jessica. Shot by Earthling soldiers in their invasion of your homeland. You held her in your arms, the blood seeping out of her chest. Your heart throbbed in pain at the sight of your dead sister, at her cold hand, never to hold yours ever again. Do you really want to go back to that?” (continues next page)

(continued) “Stop lying!” I recoiled, tears coming to my eyes. “Don’t lie to me! I know that Julia didn’t die, I know, I know! It can’t be, I won’t accept it! Bring her back!” “I can’t bring her back, Jessica. I can, however, bring you back to that pain, to that feeling of loss. Or you can stay here, in absolute perfection, where everyone is joyous and nobody dies--” “No!” I screamed, my voice cracking. I slapped the woman across the face. “I hate this place! Just give me my old world!” “Do you understand what you’d be getting into? You’d be rejecting the ideal, comfortable perfection of society here, just to--” “Just to go home.” I swallowed. “I don’t care how perfect it is. I just want to go home. I know... I know that I don’t belong here. I’d be happier at home.” “You sacrificed your life for your friend, Elizabeth Sorensky. I found out recently that you called her Lizzie. Does Lizzie ring a bell?”

“Yes! So what?” “If I send you back to your old world, you’ll be stuck, feeling the excruciating pain of the gunshot in your neck, of almost dying but not quite getting there. When people die…” The woman lowered her voice. “They come to Aryas. They’re given a serum, and are supposed to forget all of their old memories, ready to settle down in a new, perfect, joyous life in Aryas. Everyone accepts the pleasant lifestyle here, everyone except those who refuse to let go of their past. They insist on returning to their old world, and since Aryas cannot be perfect with a little boy or girl nagging and sobbing that they want to go home, we have to send them back. And they’re stuck, trapped forever, in that painful limbo between life and death. It’s so much less cruel to let them live here, but they just won’t accept it. Those who walk away from Aryas... what fools they must be.” “So maybe I am a fool. But,” I leaned close to the woman’s face, “I am a fool who wants her own, real world. Not this pathetic wonderland.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Illustration by Olivia Oh (Year 8).

PLC Sydney College Crow

Wonderland

When words cut sharper than knives and ignorance kills more people than guns

Article by Grace Zhu (Year 12).

As a Western society where individuality is widely celebrated and promoted, where there is access to the right to free speech, we are privileged to express what we want, whenever we want. Yet, possibly because this freedom is so deeply ingrained in our societal values, there is surprisingly little discussion of the potential negative outcomes. The freedom of speech is a right that works in theory. Because in theory, humans are creatures of virtue, creatures who do not commit crimes, who are not immoral, who are not imperfect. But in reality, when such freedoms are given to imperfect human beings, inevitably imperfect and undesirable consequences ensue. So, what specifically is it about humans which makes this picture-perfect society a figment of our imagination? The answer lies in our awareness, or lack thereof, of the responsibility, gravity and consequences of our words and actions. Because, with the right to free speech, comes the high risk of misusing and abusing its power. In the modern, global community, where people of all ages, nationalities, backgrounds and beliefs are connected, it has become so dangerous to be ignorant of our fellow global neighbours. The words that we say have meaning, and it is ultimately this meaning that drives action. At times, this is good action, where we unite as a harmonious society, and at other times bad action, where we forget our shared humanity and assume closed-off minds, protecting only our own interests. What is particularly sad about this sentiment of exclusion and ostracism is the fact that it permeates all aspects of our daily lives. From the media we read, to the politicians who lead us, we are raised on, and readily consume, this narrative of fear, distrust and societal brokenness. I will not name those who abuse this freedom of speech because their broken philosophies deserve no face, but I will mention some of the many devastating effects of their abuse.

Semester 1 2019

After terrorist attacks, some politicians readily branded them with a certain religion that they did not understand, and we saw cracks forming in a nation once proud of their diverse beliefs. After the fear-mongering of asylum seekers who are some of the most vulnerable people in the world, we saw cracks spreading in a nation once proud of being warm and accepting. After media platforms were gifted to blatant racists who were protected by their right-wing label, we saw cracks begin to deepen in a nation that was once proud to be multicultural. We need to realise that we are privileged. We are so, so privileged that in this developed nation of Australia, we realise the importance of free expression and thought. But we urgently need to ensure that our words and thoughts do not discriminate and ostracise our fellow human beings. It is inevitable that individuals will have a spectrum of opinions that will be in disagreement with others. But we must realise that everyone has the right to think the way they do. So before we act on our beliefs, we need to ask ourselves: Will my actions divide my global community? Will my actions tear down this fragile global network? To be clear, I am not encouraging the abolishment of free speech. Rather, I am encouraging you to see that the freedom of speech is not at all free of moral and societal responsibility. Therefore, no more must we stand for a world where we are ignorant of the impact we have. We must realise that within all of us lies the power of words that can cut sharper than knives, and ignorance that can kill more people than guns. But also, we must realise that within all of us lies the power to heal past wounds, to empathise with one another, and to be the change for good.

Santa and tHE TOOth Fairy Written by Katherine Zhang (Year 9). WARNING: If you believe in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy, please turn the page and pretend you never saw this article. Read at your own risk. I remember the day I found out the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. I must have been eight or nine. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that I caved in to the classmates that went around telling everyone the truth that no 8 year old wanted to hear. I was a very firm believer, and not easily swayed. This is how it went down… Every time I lost a tooth, the Tooth Fairy would give me a shiny two dollar coin, and I received a little more in return for my two front teeth. However, people in my class would blabber on about how the Tooth Fairy could give them 10 dollars, 20 dollars, for one tooth! That’s when my tiny little head realised something didn’t add up. And honestly, there was not much confronting involved, and it wasn’t all dramatic. It went a little like this: 8y/o me: Mum, Max got $20 from the Tooth Fairy for one tooth. Mum: *Busy doing other stuff and not really listening* That’s great, honey! 8y/o me: 20 dollars! One tooth! Mum: … 8y/o me: ... 8y/o me: Is the Tooth Fairy real? Mum: No. The end. Perhaps even more surprisingly, it took my small past self another 10 months to realise that Santa wasn’t real, and boy was that dramatic. It went along the lines of me crying and accusing my mother of lying to me my whole life. I had to be almost 10 at this point, which is a pretty belated realisation of The Crushing Truth. But I recovered from my shock and consequent existential crisis, and now I am quite at peace with this reality. My sister is still a believer in Santa, so every Christmas I get to go shopping to pick out gifts for her and myself, ‘from Santa’, which is really just the perfect opportunity to spoil myself. I’m also rather good at acting surprised and excited come Christmas Day, where I open these gifts that I got myself. It’s often debated among parents whether or not it is right to let their kids believe in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. I can tell you from a parent’s point of view, it’s really fun. From a kid’s point of view, receiving gifts

from a dude who spends nearly all of his year at the North Pole with a bunch of reindeers was really fun. Receiving shiny gold coins was really, really fun. (When I was that young, $2 was enough for two Sunnyboys at the canteen. That makes you the equivalent of a millionaire.) When I was finally presented with The Crushing Truth, it hurt for maybe a day, but I got over it. Little kids are tougher than you think. On the other hand, however you choose to word or defend it, it is lying, or at least letting your kids believe a lie. A better question would be ‘Is it right to let any child believe in something that is untrue, even if this falsity brings them immeasurable joy?’ Imaginative play, or magical thinking is a healthy and completely normal part of development in children and stimulates the brain. Around Christmas there is this wondrous sense of extreme excitement and happiness at the thought of Santa arriving with his reindeers on your roof. I remember being exhilarated to the point where I could not sleep. I haven’t felt that level of excitement for Christmas in years. Some of my best memories revolve around Christmas and Santa, and there was plenty more joy in the nine years of believing than not. However, by the time kids are old enough to ask the question, “Is Santa/the Tooth Fairy real?” they have probably reached a developmental stage where they can distinguish between reality and fiction, and heard enough from other sources to grow this seed of doubt. Continuing to foster the fabricated story beyond this point, in my opinion, is when the child begins to think of their parents as genuinely deceitful and untrustworthy. For the record, my mum and I are on great terms. I don’t hold any of it against her at all. Getting money for my teeth and an extra present around Christmas time was not a bad experience. Believing it was a small fairy and a large bearded old guy who blessed me with this happiness was a pretty good time of my life. Now I’m intrigued to see how my sister takes it when she finds out The Crushing Truth.

PLC Sydney College Crow

! E M T EA

! E M K N DRI

Katelyn Ali Beck (Year 7) surveyed students, asking them: “If you could eat the EAT ME biscuits (to make you grow) and drink the DRINK ME liquid (to make you shrink) from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, what would you do?”

Emily Ali Beck (Year 10)

Anais Lowe (Year 10)

EAT ME:

“Get my little sister (Katelyn Ali Beck), roll her up in a ball and step on her.”

DRINK ME: “Go into my little sister's room and keep her up all night by making noises.”

Aja Davidson (Year 11)

EAT ME: “Have pet elephants, sharks and giraffes in my house.”

DRINK ME: “Sneak onto planes and trains to travel the world.”

Phoebe Adam (Year 8)

EAT ME: “Destroy things and sit on the Macindoe.”

DRINK ME: “Paint myself red and nibble on people’s toes.” Semester 1 2019

“Walk through the sea and go to different countries.”

DRINK ME: “Travel in people’s suitcases.”

Emelie Johansson (Year 7)

EAT ME: “Scare people – like my friends”.

DRINK ME: “Run under door cracks.”

Bronte Jackson (Year 11)

Paloma White (Year 7)

EAT ME:

“Climb Mount Everest because it would be much easier when you’re big.”

DRINK ME: “Hide in rooms and listen to people’s conversations and see if they speak about me.”

Tay Leung (Year 12)

EAT ME: “I would go to WWE and get the Championship and win the Grand Slam.”

DRINK ME: “Find the bank account of Bill Gates, and vaccinate every anti-vax kid.”

“Look through the building behind the roundabout and see who is in there.”

DRINK ME: “Have a boxing match with an ant.”

Julia Murphy (Year 8)

EAT ME: “Take the roof off the canteen and steal all the chocolate milk.”

DRINK ME: “Stalk people and swim in their hot chocolate.”

PLC Sydney College Crow

SHE

by Horatia Ma (Year 10) Once upon a time there was a girl who was a nobody.

She laughed. They wanted her to scream. She sang. They wanted her to crawl. She flew. They tried to break her. She put herself back t ogether. They tried to cut her down. She grew back up. They tried to forget her. She reminded them. They tried to put her down. She got back up. They tried to blind her. She learnt t o see in the dark. They tried to deafen her. She st opped listening to them. They tried to take her voice. The quiet er she became the more people listened. They tried to take her life. She became an angel. They tried to block her way. She found a new one. They set the bar for her. She used it as her st arting line. They gave her a maximum. She made it her minimum. They locked her in the dark. She snapped. She glowed. They told her she couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be a star. She became t he sun. They gave her nothing. She walked away with everything. They wanted her to cry.

Once upon a time there was a girl who everybody thought was nothing.

They forgot she was everything. Illustration by Annika Johansson (Year 9). Semester 1 2019

PLC Sydney College Crow

WONDERLAND Story by Sasha Prokhorov (Year 7), illustration by Linda Liu (Year 11). Sploing! Spling! Badum! Wrong notes again. I huff in frustration and decide to give myself - and the piano - some rest. I speed to the fridge in my fluffy slippers and slide across the cold stone floor, like a figure-skater. I turn the corner to the kitchen and abruptly fall over, saving myself from a one-onone collision with the refrigerator. I reach for an ice cream out of the fridge and jog outside, humming an off-tune Ariana Grande song along the way. As soon as I’m out the door, I smile. I skip over to the gnarled, twisted Camphor tree that has been growing in our backyard for the last 52 years. It is my favourite spot in our backyard, beating even the pool and the table tennis table. For the Camphor tree is a majestic, magnificent place. It is my Wonderland. All is dark and peaceful. Rich, dim leaves replace the sky. There is a faint scent of leaves and soil, and it is earthy and dreamy. Almost... magical. The book I carefully grabbed along the way is Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It is my favourite book in the whole world. I cautiously search for a spot that hasn’t been invaded by ants to avoid being bitten, then slowly and steadily shimmy down to sit on the thick roots of the tree, my book already open. Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting with her sister on the bank… After about half an hour of reading - It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something… - I get up, first to stretch, then to quench my sudden curiosity by exploring. Inspired by the first chapter of my book, I inspect everything around the tree, my eyes squinting because of the decreasing sunlight that I hadn’t noticed while reading. Suddenly I lose my footing. I shriek. Then I open my eyes and realise I am holding my left foot aloft above the ground where there is a dented root. I furrow my eyebrows in surprise at my own silliness. Cringing, I sense some rustling in the bushes. My eyes widen. I speak without thinking: “White Rabbit, is that you?” Then out comes out the fattest looking lizard I have ever seen. Feeling even more foolish and a bit creeped out, I mutter to myself. “I bet you’re late to tea and you’re going to end up talking if I follow you.”

The lizard stares. I turn around, shaking my head in irritation. ... “Hey sister, I ain’t heard of no tea, but I sure can talk,” someone croaks. I freeze. I freak out. No, I really freak out. I scream. Recovering from my mini panic attack, I notice a damp puddle formed around me. Weird, since I didn’t cry. On further inspection, I realised it’s mud, swallowing up my shoes. No, wait, it’s quick sand... quick... mud? I’m sinking. I’m sinking! I feel myself dissolving into a glob of horribly textured liquid and when I try to scream mud gets into my mouth. I feel like vomiting. Soon my head is under. Strange. I can breathe. And I can see. Brown. Then I sink deeper, slowly floating down to the ground, which is actually see-through glass. Through the crystal clear floor, I observe more levels, equally transparent. Like an infinite pattern, a floor under a floor under a floor under a floor. I vaguely remember having a dream about a beautiful glass mansion with see-through floors. It was my idea of some kind of... Wonderland. Right when I start to relax a little my second scream for today strangles out of my mouth as I see - the lizard! Its tongue flickers like a snake. It grins, then pulls a random lever - also glass - and I start falling. When will this stop? I scream, my voice getting hoarse, then land in a forest. Hang on - I can see the Camphor tree! It’s my backyard! But... it’s different. There are tiny hot-pink mushrooms emerging from the ground. Glowing bugs are flying everywhere. The trees are purple, and the ground is a mixture of sugar and glitter. The long tufts of grass are the colour of cotton candy. Hang on! This is one of my most favourite dreams! It smells nice. I bend down, pick off the thickest blade of grass I can find, and chew on it. Wrong move. The world starts rising. Up. No, wait – I’m getting smaller! I’m shrinking! Soon, I am again in a forest, albeit a pink one. I’m in the grass! The sweet scent of candy fills my nose. But I really want to go back to the Camphor tree and finish my book. But I can’t see it anywhere, I’m too small. Then I see an enormous monster, with six legs, and – oh wait. I’m small now – that’s an ant. I was scared of ants in my childhood. I had nightmares about them all the time, because they had too many legs. Now I’m in a nightmare!

(continues over page)

Semester 1 2019

(continued) Panicking, I run in a completely random direction, then exhale, forcing myself to calm down. I walk some more through the magical forest, then get bored. I know I should be going back into the house, but that’s the least of my worries right now. I want to grow big again. I begin to feel tired and lonely. Kind of like when I eat my piece of the birthday cake first and everyone takes forever to finish and I have nothing to do. Mmmm… Black forest... No, Mille-Feuille. For those French fans, that means Napoleon. What would Napoleon do in this situation? I smirk. You shall not pass!!!! Wait, that’s Lord of the Rings. The only way to attack is to counter-attack. Hmm... counter-attack. Reverse. Opposite... Eeek!!! I think I've got it! I sprint up to the nearest blade of grass. I rip off a chunk and shove it into my mouth. Immediately, the grass starts to shrink. Oh, that’s just me getting taller. I’m growing back! I knew my idea would work! And in two seconds flat I’m back to my normal height. I run back to the tree. I raise my head, groaning at the pain in my neck... my eyes feel glued together… Was I dreaming? Or... having a nightmare? Slowly, I smile. It’s over. It was all a dream. ... I’m reading my book, leaning against the gnarled, Camphor tree that has been growing in our backyard for the last 52 years. It is my favourite spot in our backyard, beating even the pool and the table tennis table. For the Camphor tree is a majestic, magnificent place. It is my Wonderland... “I guess your dreams are your Wonderlands.”

The World Outside Wonderland Written by Vicky Lei (Year 7).

7 February, 4049. The world has turned to this wonderland in a bubble. Everything is perfect. The temperature is always the same. The animals are all tamed. There are no health issues, people live for more than 300 years. People get whatever food they want. They use a special technology to let them travel anywhere at anytime within the bubble. Everyone eats whatever they want without gaining any weight. The flowers change on command and so does the weather. The world has changed so much. Everyone loves it here in this wonderland. Everyone, but me. I hate this place. I hate the fact that there are no problems, everyday is just the same, there are no different temperatures, no health issues. I can't stand living in this place for another 184 years. I've found a way to escape all of this. A way to see the animals that kill for food. To feel the freezing temperature. To feel the pain you experience when you bleed. To experience the struggle to survive. It is illegal to go to the real world, they say the outside is toxic and unlivable, but those are all lies. I think. The door is hard to find, but I manage to find it. The door is rusty and old. It has several warning signs on it, but those aren't going to stop me, nothing will. A step closer. My footsteps are muffled by the dead grass. The outside is freezing and arid. The animals glare at me with eyes that pierce my soul. A twig cuts my arm causing blood to dribble out. The pain is sharp. This place is so ghost-silent. The leaves on the dead tree rustle. An animal bolts through the grass. Each step causes my heart to beat faster and faster... until it stops completely.

PLC Sydney College Crow

Illustration by Shirley Huang (Year 9).

Semester 1 2019

The Daily Bull Year 8 It is compulsory (for educational purposes of course) for all students to have social media by the end of the year. There is no excuse since you are all of age. If you do not have social media, refuse to, and haven’t been brainwashed by aliens, you will have to talk to the school counsellor.

Year 7 Since Year 7s are terribly disorganised and just don’t have time, they can pay $150 for a Senior to organise and rearrange their lockers (this also means bossing around someone older than you like nobody’s business!!). But be quick, since it all depends on the number of Seniors volunteering!! :) :) People asking Year 7 either ‘How’s Year 7?’ or ‘How’s High School?’ will immediately be moved down to Year 7. Any Year 7 caught on their phone during recess or lunch can have their phones confiscated by any student in Year 8 and above, and given to Mrs Chiba. Get taller. All Year 7 students under the height of 150cm will be publicly shamed every month. Yes, PLC Sydney really does want your arms to fall off by the end of the year from all those heavy books you're required to carry. Any Year 7 caught exiting the AKT through an illegal fire exit will be given rubbish duty. All Year 7s are legally required to donate six Dorcas squares. If you fail to hand them in, the rest of the cohort will throw rotten tomatoes at you (but you still have to wear your uniform).

All Year 8 students will be given a special badge which reads ‘Year 8’ to distinguish them from Year 7s. You will all receive an award during assembly for surviving your first year of High School!! Only 5 more years to go!! :) Any Year 8s shorter than 160cm will automatically be moved down to Year 7 in order to maintain a ‘tall’ average standard for the cohort.

Year 9 Try to be nicer to the Year 7s. Stop getting Year 8s and Year 7s confused. Any Year 9 heard complaining about their lockers will immediately have their lockers taken away and have to put their bags in a bin instead. No, Year 7s, we don’t know where Room 18 is. No one does. Yawning in the hallways is prohibited. If you are found yawning you will be given eight extra periods of maths and required to attend school every Saturday. All bags found on top of lockers will be inspected by Mrs Chiba and then sold on eBay (items inside are included). (This only applies for Year 9).

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Year 10 Only those who get an A in their SRP may attend the Formal. Year 10s in Stream A for Science are required to help Year 8s in the process of doing their SRPs. If anyone achieves a C or below in their SRP, they will be formally moved back to Year 8. As the youngest seniors, all Year 10s must donate 30 minutes (a day) of their time to organise all Science classrooms. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Year 11 Any Senior who is more than 7.36 seconds late to any English class will have to write a 10-page essay about why they are late. Size six font ONLY. EDIT: ‘The train/bus was late’ is officially not an excuse. >:) Being Seniors requires you now to gush about how cute the Year 7s are and be all serious about studying and your HSC next year. This means NO LAUGHING, SKIPPING OR SMILING.

Year 12

It is now compulsory for all teachers to participate in Saturday sport. All teachers must download Family Zone to be controlled by the students 24/7. All students in College Crow now have the authority of staff members. We are holier than thou.

General Traffic jams around locker areas are officially an excuse for being late to class. The canteen is now lowering its coffee prices to $13.58. There is now a new counsellor specialising in phone addiction. It is compulsory to book a session. To encourage the ongoing engagement in Learning Virtues, all students will have to write a 2-page essay on how they have fulfilled their Learning Virtues every week. Essays will be thoroughly checked and graded. The grade achieved at the end of the year is weighted for 50% of your overall report. Pillows are to line the hallways to prevent injuries in busy junctions. The swimming carnival is the best place to help people bond with the wet floor. We all know that you didn’t actually forget your swimming clothes.

If a Year 12 scores less than 90 in the HSC they will immediately be removed from any school records for shaming the school. Any Year 12 who have held their snapchat streak for more than 1363 days will immediately get 100% in their HSC. If you don't have Snapchat you will be immediately expelled.

Staff The bell is there to dismiss us. Any staff not operating under the WOOP goal plan will be fired. Staff will get detention for being late to class. This will be supervised by Mrs Chiba and/or Mrs Halkidis. Illustrations by Lea Eland (Year 7).

Semester 1 2019

but it's endless..

written by Amy Feng (Year 8), illustration by Zhiwei Cai (Year 10).

and down she falls, gravity pulling at her feet; the brush of wind tinting her cheeks a rosy pink, like a blush, from shock, and fright, as she continues falling. falling. and she dares to think; dares to believe, dares to dream, that she belongs to the billowing of the wind; the rustle of the world whirling past her. she dares to believe that she, like a butterfly, is beautiful. that she, like a bird, has wings. that she, like the sunset, carries the colours of deep red blushes, of ripened oranges, and of the pink of lips, on the span of her wings, painting the sky a million colours as she flies. she thinks of the wind as her life rushing past her, whispering her name; saying these five letters one last time. alice, it says. alice, it repeats. 18

and almost melancholically, she hears the joyousness of her motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s voice,

PLC Sydney College Crow

her name rolling off her tongue gracefully, adorned by her deep honey accent and articulated with adoration. she listens to the cheerful tinkle of her sisterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s voice; the deep rumbling of her fatherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s laugh; the melody of her auntâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s singing, ringing in her ears one last time. and perhaps she truly is the daughter of soil; the sister of earth; the niece of all things underneath the footsteps of humans. why else, she thought, would death not yet have sought her presence? but perhaps it patiently waits, covered in soil, tangled in leaves, at the almost unimaginable, almost inevitable, and unavoidably painful end of this fall. perhaps a tumble down a rabbit hole was nothing but a rather elaborate form of death. O heaven forbid! that her bones be crushed, her heart - stalled, voice name Semester 1 2019

silenced, forgotten.

THE Seat She pushed herself up in her seat, up from the sprawled position over the old computer, one hand massaging the tense muscle in the side of her neck. Stifling a yawn, she looked blankly at the screen in front of her, at the words that had blurred into inscrutable lines, bemusing her. The lamp on the side of the computer flickered and died. She craned her neck up to the mahogany ceiling of her small apartment and sighed with an intense frustration. The loose chain of words would not form themselves into sentences. A sharp noise brought her attention back to the screen. An email from the Professor. Re: Letter of Recommendation for Publication Abigail, I’m simply delighted by your critical essay, the poetry piece was equally enthralling. Come see me in my office tomorrow after class, l’m excited by your potential. We can discuss improvements and whether l think you’re ready for publication. Prof. Stanley She breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, and slammed the laptop shut. A buzz of excitement sent shivers through her spine. The prospect of his admiration flattered her, but what was with the unusual wording? Delighted? She shook her head vigorously and laughed to herself, I must be sleep deprived. She sat waiting on a row of plastic seats outside the door, legs crossed awkwardly as her eyes glanced over the mahogany walls. Rich, ambient colours filled the empty spaces, framed with an ornamental gold. No doubt, these were certainly great paintings. Suits of ebony, prussian and ash matched their necktie counterparts. A plated sheet of silver sat along the bottom right of these works, listing numerous achievements seemingly out of reach for the common scholar. These were great men with even greater wealth than these paintings could attempt to convey. Her head turned with the familiar sound of Oxfords against the polished floor. A tall figure walked towards her, one hand clutching an aromatic coffee. He smiled as she looked in his direction and she felt an obligation to return the gesture. Fumbling for the keys in his side pocket, he unlocked the door and guided her to step inside. The office was surprisingly tidy, a rack of sheets piled up into one heap, the shelves filled with knowledge in the form of papers, essays, novels, plays, a wealth of academia to inspire any literary enthusiast. He had been tenured a year ago, and the perks certainly showed through the resources he had amassed. The same mahogany awashed the room, the bookshelf, the desk, the floorboards… His voice cut through her thoughts. “It’s surprising to have such a charming young lady publishing their works, I’m rooting for you. I’ll step in as your thesis advisor for the next pieces you produce.”

PLC Sydney College Crow

Her face warmed as she succumbed to the opportunity. “Thank you Professor, this means so much to me.” “l’m happy to continue our chat over a few drinks tomorrow evening, to ease the stress, of course. And call me John,” he suggested, his demanding eyes looking up from the papers, fixating upon her like prey. She repositioned herself in her seat and nodded politely at his request, thanking him once more before leaving the office. She hesitated at the door and turned, making an attempt to say something, but though the thoughts ran unsubdued in her mind, no words developed. Don’t overthink, she persuaded herself. The old bar was dim-lit with an edge of informality. She looked at the man beside her, a manifestation of what years of education, prosperity and experience could produce. He sat comfortably, indulging in his wine. She shifted in her seat that still retained the warmth from its last occupant. Her mind filled with thoughts of the ghosts of past women who stayed chained to the seat she sat in now. Those who may have held out, past the suggestive touches, past the repulsive ogling, past the lecherous words and still believed it to be the culture of collegiality. To free them, and to free myself. “-gail, Abigail.” His coarse voice shook her from her trance. His hands touched her thighs in a hope to pull her back, yet her eyes drew wide at the abhorrent gesture. She stood up from her seat, knocking the glass and drew her hands back at the sight of spilt wine, a dark red spreading like wildfire. She cried out in disgust at the sight of stains, coloured mahogany eating away at her white dress whilst she looked at the mess regretfully. Don’t cry over spilt milk. “Don’t touch me.” She stepped backwards in shock, leaving the seat behind. His eyes darted around the bar. The echoes of those ghosts seemed to haunt her with every step she took away from the seat, and yet she was filled with a sense of courage for the future. Leaving the seat would free the futures of other women. Written by Shirley Chen (Year 11).

Semester 1 2019

FOOd Wonderland Julie Gao, Amelia Su, Jasmin Usham and Talei Chang (Year 9) invite you on a journey through some of the world's most popular meals. Waiter illustration by Emily Li (Year 10).

AFGHANISTAN: Kabuli Palaw - A variety of pilaf, consisting of steamed rice mixed with raisins, carrots, and lamb.

GREECE: Gyro - Made with meat cooked on a vertical rotisserie, and served in a pita, with tomato, onion, tzatziki, lettuce and french fries.

ARGENTINA: Asados - A variety of barbecued meat, grilled on a parillo (a large grill over an open fire) that is packed with steaks, ribs, chorizo, mollejas (sweetbread), chinchulines (chitterlings) and morcilla (blood sausage).

INDONESIA: Satay - Meat skewers cooked over coals, barbecued and then bathed in a hearty dose of peanut sauce (a popular street food).

AUSTRALIA: Fish and Chips - Fried battered fish and chips served with lemon and tartare sauce. AUSTRIA: Wiener Schnitzel - A thin, breaded, pan-fried veal cutlet. BANGLADESH: Hilsa Fish Curry - Hilsa (or ilish) fish with turmeric and ginger-red chilli paste, fried on a low flame, served with rice. BELGIUM: Belgian Beef Stew - Stew made with beer served with chips, bread and mustard. BRAZIL: Feijoada - A rich, hearty stew usually made with black beans and several different cuts of pork, including offal.

ITALY: Spaghetti Bolognese - Pasta with a rich beef and tomato sauce. JAPAN: Sushi - Prepared with vinegared rice, usually with some sugar and salt, accompanying a variety of ingredients, such as seafood and vegetables. KOREA: Kimchi - A side dish made from salted and fermented vegetables. LEBANON: Siyyadiyeh - Fish cooked in saffron with onions, sumac, and a tahini sauce (the most important part of the dish) and served on rice. MALAYSIA: Nasi Lemak - Rice steamed with coconut milk and pandan leaves.

CANADA: Poutine - French fries and cheese curds topped with a brown gravy.

MEXICO: Tortilla Chips - A snack food made from corn tortillas, which are cut into wedges and then fried or baked.

CHILE: Curanto - A stew that combines seafood, meat and vegetables.

SRI LANKA: Kottu Roti - Chopped flatbread mixed and mashed together with chicken and vegetables.

CHINA: Peking Duck - A roast duck served in a circular sheet of steamed dough along with a black sauce and several toppings.

TAIWAN: Pineapple cakes - Small shortcrust pastries filled with pineapple paste.

COLOMBIA: Bandeja Paisa - Beans, rice, ground meat or carne asada, chorizo, fried egg, arepa, and chicharrón. It is usually accompanied by avocado, tomato, and special sauces. DENMARK: Stegt flæsk - Fried pork with parsley sauce and potatoes. EGYPT: Koshari - Egyptian rice, lentils and macaroni with spicy tomato chilli sauce). FIJI: Lovo Fish - A traditional Fijian meal cooked in an underground oven, similar to New Zealand’s hangi. Meats such as chicken and fish are wrapped in banana leaves as well as various root crops layered above. FRANCE: Chicken Confit - Salted chicken, seasoned with herbs, then slowly cooked in olive oil to make it rich and tender.

THAILAND: Pad Thai - Soaked dried rice noodles, stir-fried with eggs and chopped firm tofu, and flavoured with tamarind pulp, fish sauce, dried shrimp, garlic or shallots, red chilli pepper and palm sugar and served with lime wedges and chopped roasted peanuts. UNITED KINGDOM: Sunday Roast - Roasted meat, roast potato, and accompaniments such as Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, vegetables and gravy. UNITED STATES: Apple Pie - A pie with a buttery pastry and sliced apples, often eaten with ice cream and cinnamon. VIETNAM: Pho - Rice noodles in a broth with meat and herbs.

PLC Sydney Bubblers Emma O'Dea (Year 10) takes a serious look at the bubblers of PLC Sydney. Disclaimer: Evandale bubblers not covered.

The Gym Bubbler: A great bubbler. Always cold and space to fill up your drink bottle. Very conveniently located for our athletic classmates and a great way to cool down after a hard workout. The only downside to this is the aesthetics. It’s not even in line with the wall! Gym supervisors, get onto it! 8/10 Swimming Pool Bubbler: Similar to the gym bubbler, space to fill up your bottle, cold water. Used exclusively by students who use the pool (dressed in those brand new PLC branded swimmers, of course). Just like the gym bubbler, it’s great, but there seems to be rust on the vents?? It really doesn’t fit the private school aesthetic of the pool. Otherwise, overall, it's a decent bubbler. 6.5/10

Tennis Court Bubbler: Pretty decent. You can fill up your water bottle with ease, but water may splash onto you or your shoes if you’re not careful, however it does make a nice waterfall. More decorative than your average bubbler drain. Solid 6/10

AKT Bubbler: Easily the worst bubbler at PLC Sydney. Tastes like hose water. The water is almost always warm as it’s been sitting in the pipes forever due to it’s low usage. Used only by desperate drama/music students. 3/10

Camphor Laurel Tree Bubbler: One of the more commonly used bubblers of PLC Sydney. Has that hose water flavour too but not as strong as the dreaded AKT bubbler. Very low to the ground, so it’s a perfect fit for Year 7 students. Unique square shape. Leaves sometimes fall into the drain, causing occasional blockages. 5/10 Year 9 Locker Bubblers: By the time of printing, this may not even be the Year 9 locker area anymore, but you’ll know the one I’m talking about (behind Lab 1? Unless they changed the room numbers again). Recently installed, this bubbler has everything. A place to position your drink bottle whilst it fills up, a place to drink from normally and even a counter to show how #progressive we are for not buying a plastic bottle. 9.5/10 Thompson Hall Bubbler (New): The exact same bubbler as the Year 9 locker bubbler, but with a better location. Whether you’ve come out of Saturday Sports training, a four hour gym training session, an intense rowing machine workout or a bludgy PDHPE lesson, this bubbler is WAITING for you, with every feature you could possibly need on a bubbler. 10/10

Thompson Hall Bubbler (Old): Conveniently located and chilled, this bubbler was probably the school’s favourite before the introduction of the newest bubbers. Reliable and in a convenient location, just slightly hard to fill up your water bottle as the water spout is pretty low to the drain. 8/10

Thompson Hall Bubblers (Ancient): Haven’t been touched by PLC Sydney students for years, but probably secretly used by tradies when they forget their water bottles. Will continue to not be used when construction is over. Water is probably always warm. Not as hated as the AKT bubbler as most people don’t know of the existence of these bad boys. To be honest, I don’t know what to rate it. Maybe give this bubbler a chance when the scaffolding is down and fill in your own rating here! ___ / 10

Semester 1 2019

Wishes

Written by Aileen Kim and Kate Kim (Year 7). Illustrations by Annika Johannson (Year 9). Birds chirped and rats scurried as Ella woke up to the thought of another tiresome day. Chores, chores, chores. The only thing she did all day because of her stepmother’s orders. At the start of every day, she was given a list of difficult and time-consuming work. While she was stuck undertaking this drudgery, her stepsisters and stepmother relaxed and had the time of their lives. Her life was miserable, and every day, she would think about her parents who would be watching over her from a much better place. A place where everything was perfect. A place where problems didn’t exist. A wonderful place where you could attend grand balls all the time. For her entire life, attending a ball, and dancing with the Royal Prince was her only wish...

With cheeks as white as snow, scarlet red lips and hair as black as ebony, life was beautiful for Mary. Skipping in the lovely garden, humming songs of happiness and joy, Mary always brought contentment to the palace and its people, and everyone loved her. Except for one person. That person never expressed anything towards anyone but disgust. She was self-centred and selfish and wanted everything for herself. Queen Grimhilde, who plotted to one day be rid of Mary. Mary was lucky, however, and she escaped from the plot and found herself in a little cottage, the gnomes’ house. Ever since the day her real mother left the world to watch over her in a “good place”, Mary had wished to have a peaceful and joyful life, but most of all, to one day have a wedding with great splendour and majesty, and finally find harmony without evil...

Locked up in a tower, Violet always dreamt of touching the soft fresh grass and running around until her contentment was satisfied. Violet only knew a small world in an isolated forest, far from the kingdom, where only her “mother” and she existed. Her golden blonde hair was as long as a ladder, and it slithered around her every moment of her life in the tower. Her “mother” went back and forth to the market, and whenever she returned to the spire, she would call for Violet to let her hair down so she could be pulled up to the window at the top of the tower. Every day, she would repeatedly let her hair down and pull it back up along with her “mother”. If there ever was a wish that could be granted instantly, Violet desired for a free life, to do anything she wanted, and find a place she could truly call home...

Ever since he was cursed by Agatha, Adam suffered the long days of loneliness, as he stared out his window, craving to see his original appearance. After becoming this disgusting figure, Adam hadn’t shown his face to anyone, except for the people who were also cursed, but into antique furniture and crockery. Life was dull and monotonous. There was nothing pleasant. It was just a nightmare. Then a miracle suddenly came into Adam’s life, like a shooting star in the sky (although not such a miracle for the girl). She was the most beautiful person one could imagine or desire, but Adam couldn't let himself care. Even though he had company for once in his life, he couldn’t show any love towards her, even when the girl expressed kindness to him. But, try as he might, Adam noticed the girl’s kind heart and fell in love with her. He knew she would never love him, for he was a beastly looking thing, and the curse would never be broken. Adam only wished for the spell to break, so he could truly be himself, and express his love to the girl…

You see, everyone has something they really crave, and for each person, it’s different. No matter what it is an individual wants, there is still always one thing everyone truly desires to have one day in their lives, and when things aren’t going your way, there is only one place to go: Wonderland. Wonderland is a beautiful and absolutely magical place that you can create using your imagination. Not your mum’s world. Not your dad’s world. Not your best friend’s world. Your world. For each person, their own utopia and Wonderland is different because we each have different things we want. So what’s your perfect Wonderland?

PLC Sydney College Crow

High SchOOl is a Wonderland Written by Natalie Epstein and Julia Fang (Year 7).

High school is a wonderland, life we enjoyed was calm and routined. Until one day we fell down the rabbit hole of Year 7. Everything is strange and new, Mountains of homework that we struggle to do. Meeting new people, forgetting their names, Family Zone blocks us from playing games. High school classrooms are everywhere, Scattered across here and there. I say we are in a maze, That we walk in everyday. Brand new subjects to learn. When we reach information overload Our brains burn. We are responsible for ourselves now It’s hard, but we manage somehow. Although it’s a big new change, And this high school place seems so strange We’ll come to understand What goes on in this wonderland.

Semester 1 2019

What does university give us? Written by Julia Fang (Year 7). In all the years that university students spend on their campus, what do they reap? Knowledge and experience, or is it merely a playground of idle thoughts? Everyone who goes to university seeks to gain something useful. Many people believe that most of the things we can get from university life can be achieved through other paths, by ourselves. It is worth considering the choices life presents after exiting the high school gates. Great jobs can be obtained through working hard and from social experience, but some careers require a university degree. A degree, physical confirmation of the education obtained by going to university, may also make you more money as soon as you step into society.

some attended, but dropped out before graduating! These people are living proof that opportunities, right decisions and ambition can also lead to success. Finding the optimal time is what makes success hard, and not for the faint hearted. There are no guarantees. Many families believe that going to university is a mandatory part of our lives because, for them, university is “the way.” Indeed, it does provide great learning experience, equipping you with resources to prepare you for the future. In university, you specialise on the subjects you want to pursue. Studying at a tertiary level also helps with your organisation, reliability and responsibility. By enhancing your abilities and refining your skills through specialisation, you will be more ready for work.

A university education is considered by some people as unnecessary, a waste of time, energy and money. Founder of Stansberry Research, Porter Stansberry, once stated his opinion on this topic: “I'd tell any teenager today the same thing: Forget about college. Instead, travel for a year. Go to several major cities. Work and intern in many different industries. Get a sense of the world. Meet people from other cultures. Learn what makes people tick. Learn history and geography.” Yeah, right. For many of us, we can't imagine telling our parents that is a plan we're considering. But, many high profile people have reached high levels of success without university, like Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg (the Facebook guy), to name a few. There are also female examples such as Oprah Winfrey, one of the world's most influential media entrepreneurs. Some never went to college or university,

There are some career paths that require a university education, but there are also many that do not. University may help you specialise your knowledge in one subject but it may not be for everyone. Students who decide to go to university might regret this choice because they realise it is not what they truly desire. People who have decided to skip university after high school might sign up for it after years of working, because they find themselves needing to specialise their skills further. As the graph below shows, the number of university students continues to grow. People’s opinions regarding whether or not to attend university are based on their own circumstances, experiences and points of view. However, it does not mean that your choices have to be based on their comments. Everyone is different and acquires success through various paths.

Total number of students in higher education, 1949 – 2013 1400000 1200000 1000000 800000 600000 400000 200000

2012

2009

2006

2003

2000

1997

1994

1991

1988

1985

1982

1979

1976

1973

1970

1967

1964

1961

1958

1955

1952

1949

Data source: Department of Education and Training.

PLC Sydney College Crow

Alice in Wonderland Facts Compiled by Jennifer Su (Year 8), illustration by Isabella Zhang (Year 9).

A medical condition that causes distortions of visual perception, with objects appearing smaller or larger than reality, has been named the Alice in Wonderland Syndrome. It has been speculated that Lewis Carroll may himself have suffered from the condition. The story was banned in the Chinese province of Hunan in 1931 due to the belief that animals should not be given the right to speak human language.

The Dodo is a caricature of Carroll himself. Carroll (whose actual name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) had a stutter, and it is understood that he would at times stutter when introducing himself, pronouncing his surname, “Do-do-dodgson”.

The spinning tea cups at amusement parks are inspired by the book.

The book was almost named “Alice’s Adventure Underground”.

The Alice in the story is based on the daughter, Alice, of Henry Liddell, Lewis Carroll’s boss. The three little girls in the Dormouse’s story - Elsie, Lacie and Tillie - play on the names of Liddell’s daughters (Elsie for Loriana (L.C.), Lacie an anagram of Alice, and Tillie an abbreviation of Matilda, Edith's nickname). Carroll came upon the idea of the story while he was on a boat ride with Alice Liddell, to amuse her.

A new edition of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ was released in 2015, illustrated by popular children's book author and illustrator Anthony Browne.

In 1998, 100 years after Carroll’s death, a very rare first edition of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ (Lewis Carroll’s personal copy) was auctioned for $1.54 million, the highest price ever paid for a children’s book at that time.

Queen Victoria loved the book so much that she requested Carroll dedicate his next book to her. As it turned out Carroll’s next book was: ‘An Elementary Treatise on Determinants, with their Application to Simultaneous Linear Equations and Algebraic Equations’. It was perhaps not quite what the Queen had had in her royal mind… (LIFE LESSON: Even if you are the Queen, don’t be arrogant and ask for a book to be named after you, as it could be a weird book). 27 Semester 1 2019

THE MAD HATTER An Alternate Origin Story

Written by Imogen Sabey (Year 9). Mad Hatter illustration by Katelyn Ali Beck (Year 7).

My fingers drum on the table. The mindless tapping is the only sound that consumes the room. The cheap paint on the walls is so sparse that it looks like nothing more than a few smudges. One of the legs on my chair is shorter than the others. It hangs crookedly as I lean forward to stare deeper into the glass which reflects my face on the wall opposite me. A woman strides in, her gait purposeful and confident despite the false grimace she wears: to her, I am nothing more than a project, an experiment. To her, I am nothing. She attempts a smile as she sits in the chair facing me, but it is in vain. My fingers still have not ceased tapping. Her right eye twitches microscopically, a fragment of a nanosecond, but I still see. She does not bother with making conversation. The time for niceties has long gone now, its echo left in the dust. My gaze goes right through her, to my reflection behind her figure. I can tell that it unnerves her, but she shakes her head slightly and clears her throat to indicate her presence. My eyes are pulled towards her frown and travel slowly upwards to rest upon her expression of chagrin at my low level of attention. She speaks steadily and clearly in the hopes that I might catch a small portion of what she’s saying. It’s nothing I can do anything about anyway. “Mr Hatter, I’m afraid to say that you’ve been diagnosed with schizophrenia, after careful

analysis of your behaviour. The nurses that have been looking after you have decided that it would be best if you were minimally involved in society so as not to provoke any violent habits from you.” I blink. It is for show, of course. Long periods of time in solitude have provided me with valuable insight into how long I can keep my eyes open without blinking. If the cracked pocket watch in my coat pocket is still any good, it should be approximately three hours. The woman is unfazed. If the label on her uniform is anything to go by, she should have a long experience of dealing with ‘mad’ people like myself. I eye the clock warily as she begins to list the evidence for why I should be locked up in this painted facade, how my existence provides a danger to the other inhabitants of society. I have heard the same thing before, and no doubt I will again. I am mad. I am unsafe. I am an inconstant, irregular, crooked, unscrrrrrupulous animal. The only steady thing in my life is tea time. I have it every hour, on the hour. My tea is the only steady thing in my life. Tea can be made and drunk and remade and redrunk. I find that rather appealing. A click is heard throughout the room as the woman has left me, again, to be alone. I do not like being alone. It makes me want to hit myself. I step gracefully on top of the table, leaping down to the empty space in front of the door. I twist the handle. It opens. PLC Sydney College Crow

I open the door, just a bit, to gather my sense of location. The hallways outside have the same eerie white paint that furnishes my current living room. I glance to the sides wearily to check if the woman is still there. She is not. I do not stop and think about this. I slip to the side and down the hallway on my right. There are multiple hallways then. They all look identical. Each one has the same semi-peeling paint and the smell of chemicals. I go in the only hallway that doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t seem quite as haunted as the others. This one has the scent of very old paper, and the walls are marginally cleaner. I tread with a careful foot down the path, lit with flickering yellow lights that bath the doors dotting either side in a golden glow. The doors are all a standard white, no chipped paint and no chemical smells. I open one. A cloud of dust envelopes me, before leaving as quickly as it came. The room is full of dusty boxes, light streaming in through what could be a window. There are large objects hidden under sheets. I creep in, silence accompanying me. I reach out with trepidation towards the corner of one such sheet, the one nearest to me. It is an animal. Taxidermy, that I have no doubt of, but I have never seen such a thing before. It almost has the echo of a bird, but this creature has a tail like a beaver and claws like a falcon. It has something that would, on any other animal, be called a duckbill, but on this, I do not know what to make of it. I put the sheet back on, lifting another one up and dropping it when I see the size of its teeth, before hastening out of the room and shutting the door behind me. I turn my gaze to the other doors. One, all the way down the end, is made of mahogany. I stare at it, wondering how I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see it before. It has no place in here, with the tasteless, lifeless whites and the decrepit paint. I could have sworn it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t there before, but now I have seen it I know I have to open it, or the curiosity will haunt me until my dying day. Unlike the others, this door is in the middle of the hallway, right at the end. My hand curls towards it tentatively, hesitating. Light is seeping through the crack at the bottom, and it makes me wonder what could be creating that much light. I open the door just a sliver and hear a honk. The sound is so loud and peculiar in this silent, unliving hospital that I shut the door. I furrow my eyebrows in frustration at my own timidness and fling the door wide open, burying my fears deep within the trenches of my mind. The door creaks loudly, not stopping even when it opens too wide and is supposed to hit a wall. The light streams in over my face, the noises from before coming back, louder. I close my eyes at first, the light being too bright for me to take it in. I shield my face from it with the sleeve of my coat, before squinting enough to gain my bearings and create an understanding of this fearful thing. Then I forget how to be scared. Semester 1 2019

Fun Facts You Didn't Aurelia Bergin (Year 7) had a chat with a few of the members of the PLC Sydney staff. Illustrations by Tansy Pham (Year 9).

Mrs Tucker's favourite story from the Bible is from John 4, when Jesus speaks to a Samaritan woman who everybody else rejects but Jesus treats her with respect.

Mr Watters enjoys dancing, soccer (and, of course, music).

Some of Miss Mella's hidden talents are remembering and pronouncing names.

Mrs Tucker is very frightened of snakes but spiders don't seem to bother her. Did you know that the only thing Miss Mella claims that she is afraid of is bed bugs?

The Beatles are Mr Watters' favourite band.

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Know About Teachers Miss Mella doesn't have much spare time because, of course she works at the Presbyterian Ladies College, Sydney, but when she does have some time she is pumping iron at the gym.

Mr Watters is afraid of heights.

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Mrs Tucker loves anywhere that is cold. She once went to a place in China that was -37 degrees!

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Character Profiles ‘Alice's Adventures Queen of Hearts Friends: The flamingos, they are her favourite animals! And yes, they do love catching up on a game of croquet when they're NOT the sticks. The flamingos are a bit, let’s say, broken in the head, having been used as croquet sticks for the past, I don’t know, maybe century? Class: Rich class (although she is a bit of a poor miner), hence the Spade. Her father mined before her and his father before him. She’s only found a small piece of gold once. Personality: Nice, kind hearted, tends to be talkative… like, loves to talk. A lot. If you do actually meet her, be sure not to interrupt during her conversation, as she may get a bit mad and drive you out with her guards. Catch Phrase: “Off with my head!” We really don’t know why… but I guess it just is. Other: She loves a good laugh and baking cookies… especially heart-shaped cookies. She is your average read by the fire at night, red lipstick, knitting and crocheting kinda gal… who will beat anyone at a game of cards or croquet. Just a friendly reminder, if you do happen to want to speak to her, just start with a couple of flamingo facts. She loves her flamingos and hates anyone who uses them as croquet sticks. Antagonist or Protagonist? Protagonist. She is a lovely woman who helps saves the day! Indeed her evil brother has already started to take over the throne as the King of Spades and it is up to her to save the day!

The characters of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland turned upside down.

Alice Friends: She likes the Cheshire Cat, although the feelings are not mutual. She finds him adorable, with his little stripes and cute little face. He thinks she is annoying, imprudent, selfish and squishes his cheeks too much. She quite likes the White Rabbit and tries to make him less stressed. He doesn’t think that she helps and tries to stay away from her. She tries to be friends with everyone, but it doesn't always work out. Class: Rich class - in Wonderland. Alice spends a large amount of time in Wonderland, visiting when she finds that her sister reading that boring old book again. She seems to have developed quite a name for herself, so now when she joins competitions like croquet matches and tea drinking all of the companies (not that there are many companies) want to sponsor her and her team. Personality: Alice is very curious, but also very shy. She loves to sing and wears bright, colourful clothes and skirts to match her bright bubbly personality. She is a doer and will take action on anything she thinks is wrong. Occupation: I mean like seriously, she’s only 12 years old. She can’t have a job already… Antagonist or Protagonist? Protagonist. She is helpful, but she can be slightly annoying and smart at times.

White Rabbit Friends: The March Hare (he is surprisingly ordinary and not crazy - by the rabbit’s standards) and Alice, who always attempts to put him at ease (even though he does not appreciate it). Other characters may choose not to befriend the White Rabbit as doing so would result in a rather long time - several hours a day - waiting around at parties and events before the venue has even been set up (doing nothing, naturally). Class: Middle class - Although he attends many parties, this is mostly out of pity as other than parties, the White Rabbit has no other things on his plate (get it?). With the money he has, he has not bought a house but rather enjoys purchasing as many watches as he can get his hands on (preferably gold in colour). Personality: The white rabbit has a habit (you see the rhyme? No? Oh well, I tried). He is always early and is usually spotted attending parties and other occasions several hours before the actual ceremony has even begun. Occupation: He occupies several party grounds, other characters’ houses and ceremonial halls. He owns about 100 large gold watches which he checks about 1000 times a day. If that’s what you mean by occupation.

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(Reversed) For in Wonderland’ Written by Lea Eland, Lydia Kim, Isabelle Ho Shon, Su Yee Lay (Year 7). Illustration (based on Disney's White Rabbit) by Aarna Nebhani (Year 7).

Mad Hatter

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Friends: The Dormouse is the only friend that the Mad Hatter will ever have. He tries to be friends with everyone, but the people in Wonderland are not that fond of his dull nature.

Friends: Each other. They only spend time with each other, thinking, pondering and eating at all times.

Class: Middle class - He does not find happiness in making hats as the only style that he makes is of a dull, grey colour, although this is in his nature. The citizens of Wonderland seem not to appreciate his hats. As he is short of customers, he does not earn much. Personality: He has a boring and tedious life and is often found droning on in a monotonous tone. The context of what he is talking about is unknown as the only people who really bother to go near him (usually the Dormouse - by this I mean only the Dormouse), have already fallen asleep before he even begins talking. Catch Phrase: “This tea is too cold! Disgraceful!”. He refuses to let anyone serve him cold tea.

Class: Since they don’t socialise, they don’t have a class, or any friends for that matter. The class they fit into would be, and still is, undecided. Personality: One word: Smart. Another word: Intelligent. These twins have the brain power of four Einsteins. They created a cure for cancer at 3, created AI technology at 4, a bomb that is noiseless by age 5, explored space and even found alien life in nearby galaxies. Occupation: If you count sitting, thinking and eating as an occupation… then that's what they do. Catch Phrase: They don’t talk. So I guess “............. ”. Antagonist or Protagonist? TBH with you, neither. They are just two annoying, fat lumps of brain that sit in the forest all day and think about stuff.

Occupation: While he makes hats, his favourite pastime is to host tea parties. These are usually pretend and are made using cold water as tea and small, flat rocks as cookies and other tragedies. Antagonist or Protagonist? Neither. To be honest, he is just there...

Catch Phrase: Two things that the white rabbit says are: “Oh, my! Oh, my! I shall be early!” and “I'm early! I'm early! For a very important date! Time to say hello, goodbye! I'm early! Early! Early!”. These are usually said in a slow, confident and relaxed manner. Sometimes, the white rabbit is compared to the hare from the story of the tortoise and the hare (although the white rabbit will never risk arriving later than 3 hours before an event). Antagonist or Protagonist? It may appear as though the white rabbit is a protagonist (he is seemingly innocent) but under his layers of fur he is full of ominous secrets and forbidding lies. It seems he is more than meets the eye (FYI he is the antagonist - if you didn’t pick it up).

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Pun Wars Written by Carolyn Wang (Year 7). Illustration by Tansy Pham (Year 9). The Mad Hatter, March Hare and Dormouse are having an interesting discussion over a nice cup of teaâ&#x20AC;¦

MAD HATTER: Such a boring day, no crazy girls following white rabbits praising our singing. [Sigh.] I say, pour me some more tea, please will you, Dormouse? DORMOUSE: [ Pours tea.] It is a rather slow-moving day. Maybe Time-Turtle changed time? MARCH HARE: I very much doubt it. Last I heard of him, he was in bed cursing some poisonous cookies that he stole from the White Rabbit's house. Although, wasn't it Alice that stole the White Rabbit's cookies? DORMOUSE: All this talk of cookies makes me hungry. Who brought the cucumber sandwiches? MAD HATTER: Certainly not me. Did you bring them March Hare? MARCH HARE: No. DORMOUSE: Oh poo. Speaking of the White Rabbit, where do you think he got his coat from? MAD HATTER: Probably some expensive brand store. MARCH HARE: Really? I thought it could've been from Small w. MAD HATTER: What's Small w? DORMOUSE: What indeed? MARCH HARE: Small w is the uncapitalized version of Big W. MAD HATTER: Oh ha ha. NOT. DORMOUSE: Groan. MARCH HARE: Puh-lease. As if you could do better. My jokes are egg-cellent! MAD HATTER: Well my singing is egg-stravagant! A very merry unbirthday to you ! MARCH HARE: Anyone can sing that. No talent needed. But moi... MAD HATTER: You think you're so funny? The silence is deafening ! DORMOUSE: Maybe you could calm MARCH HARE: Well that's because you scared my audience away with your egg-scruciating singing, if you could call it singing. MAD HATTER: I've had enough of your nonsense ! MARCH HARE: My nonsense? DORMOUSE: [ Very quietly.] Um. How about a nice cup of tea? MARCH HARE AND MAD HATTER: NO ! MARCH HARE: This tea party is over ! MAD HATTER: Egg-specially because March Hare forgot the cucumber sandwiches ! MARCH HARE: Excuse me MAD HATTER: You're excused. Leave! DORMOUSE: Eek. The Mad Hatter's MAD and the March Hare is about to MARCH off. Yikes! --Oh dear. We'd better run! Bye fellow readers! AHHHH... Semester 1 2019

Olivia's Comic Corner

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'THE Height of TecHnology' by Olivia Silva (Year 12).

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Olivia's Comic Corner (continued) 'THe Secrets Below PLC' by Olivia Chan (Year 7).

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Alex in Technoland Written by Danavidya Dayaparan and Iris Xu (Year 8). “Mmm...” Ella swiftly turned the page, not even sparing a glance or a word. Honestly, I don’t even know why she invited me to this e-park with her if all she was going to do was read. “Right, yeah, and then I decided to cut both of your ears off!” “Sounds great, Alex,” she mumbled. “Yeah... very”, I said. A few more minutes passed by and I could feel myself kind of dozing off into that ‘daze-faze’ while Ella just sat there, totally oblivious to how dead the atmosphere was. Only the occasional s... Suddenly, a series of red letters that flashed by snapped my mind back to reality: LATE Wait! What? I blinked a couple of times, my vision focusing on the few chairpods and vending machines dotted around the park. I swear I’m going crazy. Probably the boredom just getting to me. “Beep, beep, beep...” My head snapped around. “Did you hear that?” Ella grunted. She just dismissed me, with a shrug. “Um... I’m gonna go, like explore, okay? Bye!” At least that gave me something to do. I trudged off wearily and leaned forward to peer behind the chairpod. But nothing was there? “Whirr, whirr...” My head snapped up. An e-vending machine? Now, where did that come from? With every moment that passed by, l became more intrigued by the noises surrounding me. I shuffled forward, and with each step I took, the sound just grew louder. “It must be coming from behind,” I pondered. Yep, there it stood - the little robot that had attracted me all the way here. As I

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cautiously inched forward, I stretched my hand out to pick it up. “Whirrrr...” The robot scurried off further into the distance, and so did I. A million questions flooded my mind at that moment, but none of that mattered - I needed to follow it. I quickly glanced back, for just a fraction of a second. Ella still had her head buried in her novel. I probably would be back before she even noticed I was gone. I ran and ran until the bot turned a corner, then stopped to take a breather. I was panting hard. What was I going to get by chasing a robot? I guess that I did feel a little stupid at first but then a wave of my imagination just took over instead - Would it lead me to a secret organisation? Was it a spybot? I was dying know; and so I followed. “Swoosh!” When I made it around the corner, little did I imagine that there would be a huge gaping hole that led me into a never-ending tunnel! With a wild scream, l continued to fall down a bottomless abyss... This was crazy. I could still picture myself flailing my arms frantically, kicking my legs and yelling while I stared at the empty tunnel. I crash landed. Ooff. I winced in pain. The platform that I stood on, or to be precise, collapsed on, started descending slowly. A sign read: ‘2029 trends of the Year’. Hmm... now that was queer. A sign board about the year’s trends? In the middle of a tunnel? I was too taken aback to make sense of it all. Walking past the holograms of the many different trends from last year, there was the ‘Slam your head into the Hologram Challenge’, creating the biggest hologram ‘thing’ and obviously, the e-fidget spinners. I was just dazed. Plain dazed. The adrenaline pumped in my body after the ‘GREAT FALL’. Then it came to a sudden halt. There was an opening in the travel machine... was this it? I took one careful step after the other. I was determined; so I stepped in. I found myself standing at the exit of a sort of cave. Squinting my eyes due to the strong rays of sunshine, I walked forward. This was it... the other side. Where was I? - I had no idea. How was I going to get back? - no clue. What was lying out there for me? - it was time to find out...