HOTSOFF THE PRESS 2011

This is a magazine containing contributions from children and young people being taught by Edinburgh’s Hospital and Outreach Teaching Service.

These children and young people might be:

• intheRoyalHospitalforSickChildren• intheYoungPeople’sUnit,Tipperlinn• LookedAfter(andAccommodated)• partoftheGypsyTravellerTeachingGroup• excludedfromschool• taughtathomeduetotheirmedicalcondition• taughtinoneofourEducationGroups• partoftheYoungMums’Unit

Wehaveproducedmagazinesbefore,butthistimewedecidedtogoforamore“professional”look.Forthis,manythankstotheLearningPublicationsUnit–especiallyTraceyMorriseyandJackieHenrie.

We hope you enjoy the magazine. Any feedback is always welcome.

Thankyouandwelldonetoallourcontributors.

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Suddenshewasoutofthevicinityofherhouse.Itdidn’ttakeherlongtorealisewhereshewas.Theyhadtakenhertowheretheyhadfirstmet,trulymet,notinthewaytheyhadforthelastfewmonths.Shestoodonthepavementandlookedatthesmallshopsontheothersideoftheroad.Thesignsthatread“Eighty-twosleepstillChristmas!”lookedpeculiarnexttotheHalloweendecorations.Sherememberedthisalltoowell.Shewatchedagirlinwornjeansandagreywoollenjumper,herlocksneatlytuckedinsidethehoodwithoneescapedwispofbrownhairblowinginthefreshOctoberbreezes.

Chloenoticedagroupoffiveslowlyappearingoutofthedarkness.Herheartstartedtocreepupherthroat.Itfeltstrange as she shouted out herownname“Chloe!Run!”sheshoutedacrossthestreet.Itwasn’tjustagirl,itwasher.Norweretheyjustfivepeople,theyweretheVoices.Chloecried,tryingtoruntowardsherselfassherealisedthattheheadphonesblaringwithmusicwerepreventingherhearingthewarningoftheFives’actsofdestruction.Thoughherlegsweremovingsheseemedtobecomefurtherawayfromherselfuntilshewasbackinthecornerofherroom.Chloe’seyeswelledatthememory.Shelookedupwithastarttoseehermother,Siobhan,staringdownather,browmergingtogetherandherforeheadcreasingwithconcern.

“Youhaven’tbeenyourselfrecentlyhoney.Youknowyoucantellmewhat’sup,”hermotherwhisperedsympatheticallybeforepullingherinforatightembrace.Chloe’sentirebodytensedstiffwithfear.Hertightfistsmadeher nails dig into her palms so thatwhenshereleasedthemtherewerefourpinkcrescentsoneach.

Thefiguresweretakingcontrol,nowmakingherfrightenedofherownmother.Theytoldherthatshewouldhurthertoo,justliketheyhad.

She started to creep down the hall but as she turned her

head the Voices were standing

behind her.

Chloeshookoutofhermother’shold,tryingnottonoticethehurtonherface.“Comedownforyourteathen?”Siobhanaskedflatly.ShelefttheroomfirstandChloewhispered“Please,leavemealone,atleastuntilaftersupper.”Shepleadedbeforefollowinghermother.Sheopenedthedoorjustacrackandasfastasshecould,slippedoutherofroom and shut the door tight behindher,tryingtotraptheFiveinherroom.ShestartedtocreepdownthehallbutassheturnedherheadtheVoiceswerestandingbehindher.Shereluctantlywalkeddownthestairs,hertroopsfollowing.

Shesatdownatthedinnertableandstaredatthemixtureoffoodsmergingtogetheronthechinaplate.Thepopofthe bubbles rising to the top ofherglassfromthefizzofherjuiceseemedlouderthanusual.

“It’satrick!Can’tyousee?Shehasonlymadeyourfavouritemealsothatyoueatit.It’spoisoned!”Theeldestmalesaidsmugly.Hewasstillfairlyyoung,inhislateteens.Heleantagainstthewall,hislankyarmscrossed against his chest and legsstretchedout.Chloe’smotherandfatherdugintothemealinfrontofthemforagoodfewminutesbeforeherfatherrealisedhisdaughterhadnottouchedherplate.

“Thoughtthiswasyourfavourite?Nothungry?Don’tlikeitanymore?Goodness,kidsthesedayschangetheirmindeveryfiveminutes!”Raymond,Chloe’sfather,chucklednervously.Heknewsomethingwaswrongbutactedhisusual,jokingselfasifeverythingwasfine.

Chloecouldseethestrainonhisfaceattemptingtokeephisfalseappearanceofhappinessandstophisswirlingworriesescaping.

“Don’ttrusthim.It’snotconcernhe’stryingtohide,it’sguilt.He’sonoursidetoo.”TheyoungVoicenotifiedherall-knowingly.

Chloecontinuedtopushherfoodaroundherplate,her

ChloeBy Rachael Temple-Simpson

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ChloepressedhardagainstthesideofherheadtryingtobarricadethetauntingVoicesfromenteringherears.Herheadpounded,heartracedasshelookedaroundherdarkemptyroom.TheseveresilenceofthedarkDecembernighturgedtheVoicestogetlouderandlouder.Witheachsyllablethevolumeseemedtoheighten.BeforelongChloe’sheadthrobbed,heavierandheavierwiththeVoicesgettinglouderastheystartedtotalkovereachother.ThefriendlyVoicessheonceknewhadmerged into one monstrous beast.

“Please!Leavemealone!Whatdoyouwant?”Chloescreamed through sobs withoutpartingherlips.

Shefelttheimpactofthecoldfisttravelthroughthebackofherhead.Therewasamomentarysilence.

“Shutup.Don’tmakeascene.Theywon’tlistenanyway,”thesmallestMaleVoicegrowleddownathersittingonthefloor.TheVoicesweremerelydark,dauntingfigures:featureless.

Chloe’seyesfollowedtheturninghandsoftheclock,stomachfillingwithbubbles

ofanxietyassuppertimeapproached.Shehatedleavingtheconfinedspaceofherroom,rediscoveringeverydaythatshewastheonlyonetheytalkedto,theonlyonethatcouldseethem,shewastheonethatwasdifferent.

The Voice was unusually kind to her, “Why are you hiding from me?

TheVoicesbegantoletherknowtheywouldn’tmakethiseasyforher,thatshecouldn’thideitformuchlonger.Theonlyfemaleofthefivefiguresplaced her hands delicately oneithersideofChloe’shead.AwaveoffearmadeChloe’s

breathingquickenandhereyessqueezeshutasifitwouldmakeherdisappear.TheVoicewasunusuallykindtoher,“Whyareyouhidingfromme?Iwon’thurtyou,notme,”thewomanwhisperedsoftasslowlyfallingsnow.Chloefellintothecunningtrapofthefemalefigureandslowlyopenedhereyes.Shelookedatthefaceinfrontofherwhereshecouldseenoeyes,nonose,nomouth,justadarkface.ShefeltstrangelysafeinthecompanyoftheVoice.ThegripoftheVoicestartedtoslowlychange.BeforeChloecouldrealisewhatwashappeningherscalpfeltasifitwerebeingpulledoffherskull.Shescreamed,shecriedinpanic,“Help!Mum?”

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mouthwateringwithhungerat the supposedly poisoned meal.Sheyawnedhopingherparentswouldbelieveheractoftiredness.

“Hun,ifyou’retiredyoucanjustgotobed.Youdon’tneedtostaydownherewithus.”Siobhansmiledoblivioustoherdaughter’sworries.

Chloecreptupthestairsandshutthedoorslowlybehindher.Herroomwasnolongeraquiet,peacefulplacetosleep,notwiththeshoutingfivefiguresloomingoverher.EventhoughtheVoiceswerestandingsoclose,whenshereached out to push them awayherarmneverseemedlongenoughtotouchthem.

ShespenthoursonendsittingonthefloortryingtoblockoutthescreamingVoicesbutitneverworked.Themoreshetriedtoblockoutthenoisestheloudertheybecame.

Asthedarkofthenightfelloverthequietstreetsheheardhermotherandfatherclimbintobed.TheVoicesallstaredatChloeoncethedeepbreathing inched through thewallfromthenextroom.Chloetriedtoswallowthelumpoutofherthroat.

“Whatareyougoingtomakemedonow?”Chloeaskedfearfullyinabarelyaudiblewhisper.

Thefiguresbegantocacklemaliciously.TheytookChloedowntothekitchen.

Reluctantly,shewalkeddownthestairs;ifshestoppedtheVoiceswouldbegintopushher,althoughChloecouldfeelnohand.

Shedidn’tknowwhattheywantedwhichfrightenedherevenmore.Shefeltherhandreachingfortheslightlyajardrawerinthekitchen.AsthedrawerglidedopenChloetriedtopullherhandbackbuttheVoiceswouldn’tlether and it continued to reach forthesilverbladedknife.Chloe’shandgrippedtheblackhandleuncontrollably.Shefranticallytriedtostophermovements,triedtositonthefloor,grabontocabinetsbuttheVoiceswerestronger.

Chloe tried to scream but the

figures stopped the noise entering the

house. The screams echoed through her

head in the dead silence.

Herlegsmovedlikeamachineupthestairs.TheycontinuedtopushChloeupthestairsdespiteherreluctance.OneofthefiguresranaheadandgrippedthehandleofChloe’sparents’room.Thedoorseemedtotakeforevertoopentothedarkheatoftheroom.Chloetriedtoscreambutthefiguresstoppedthenoiseenteringthehouse.Thescreams echoed through her

headinthedeadsilence.Shefeltherfeetmovingfasterandfaster,thedoorapproaching,nomatterhowhardshetriedtostop.

TheVoicestookhertoherparents’bed,onhermother’sside.Theknifeheldtightlyinbothhandswasraisedaboveherhead.Chloetriedtostoptheknifefrombecominganycloser to her mother but as sheresistedagainsttheforceofthevoices,overwhelmingpainshotthroughherlimbs.Thetipoftheknifecameincontactwiththemother’schest,thebladerestinginthegapwhereherribsdidnotquitemeet.

Siobhan’seyesopenedwideandglazed,eyelidsdisappearingintoherskullastheknifesunkdownintoherchest.Chloe,intheunbearable silence realised whattheyhadmadeherdoandtheknifeslowlytwirledinherfingersasthevoiceshelpedherdecidewhatthebladewoulddonext…

TheSolarSystemSong

(Goes to the tune of Yankie Doodle)

Verse 1:Mercury,Venus,EarthandMars,JupiterandSaturn,Uranus,Neptune,Pluto,thesearealltheplanets.

CHORUS: In the solar system (4 times)

Verse 2:Therearecomets,meteoroidsandasteroids,Satellitesandconstellationshighupinthesky.

CHORUS

Verse 3:Alltheplanetsgoaroundthesun,Andthemoons,goaroundtheplanet.

CHORUS

Verse 4:Constellationsaremadeofstars,Andthestarsarelittlepieces,brokenroundthesun.

CHORUS

ByCatieHynesAge9

(Iusedarainstickforthechorusandakeyboardforeachverse)

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Hewalksintotheclassroom.Hesitsatthetable.Everyoneischatting.Theteacher-ladyhandsouttheEnglishjotters.

-Now,handsintheair!

Thechildrenlifttheirhands.Thereissilence.

-Todaywearegoingtodosomewriting.

-Nowhandsdown.

Allhandsgodownandthesilencecontinues.

-Thepieceofwritingisgoingto be about a person you admire.

Thereareafewgroansintheclassroom.

-Howlongdoesithavetobe?,asksChristian.

-Itsnotaboutquantityit’saboutquality,saysMiss.Trytowriteaboutwhatthepersonlookslike,whattheirpersonalityislike.Forexampleifthey’re

funnyorseriousandalsoremember your capitals and punctuation.Whenyou’refinishedI’llhavealittlereadthrough it then you can do abitofpeerassessment.Thismeansyouswapwithsomeone else and read eachotherswork.Youcanstartwritingnowandremembertoaskifyouneedhelp.

The children start to write.Hestartstowritealso.Hehas decided whoheis going towriteabout.Heis going towriteabout his father.

Hestaresathisjotterpageforawhileandwonderswheretostart.

-Josephareyoustuck?,saysMiss.

Thefollowingpieceisan“extrachapter”fortheRoddyDoyleshortstory“NewBoy”whichisaboutanineyearoldRwandanrefugeecalledJosephwhohasstartedschoolinIreland.Itiswritteninthestyleoftheoriginal.

NewBoy–Chapter7APersontoAdmire

By Lauren Baptie

-NoI’mjusthavingathink,hesays.Hethinksbacktowhenhisfatherwasstillhereandwhathewaslike.Thenhestartstowrite.

Hedescribeshowhisfatherlooked,howkindhewasandwhattheyusedtodotogether.

-Now,iseveryonegettingonokaywiththeirwriting?,theteacher-ladyasks.

-Yes,theclassreplies.Theyhavebeenwritingforawhilenow.Hethinkshe’sfinished,heputshishandup.

-I’mfinishedMiss,hesays.

-Letmehavealittlelook,saystheteacher-lady.

Shereadsthroughhiswriting.Hetwiddleshisthumbswhilehewaits.

-WelldoneJoseph,that’sverygoodwriting.

Hesmilesattheteacher-lady.

Hethinkstheteacher-ladylookslikesheisabouttocrybuthe’snotsure.

-Nowyoucanswapwithsomeoneelsewhohasfinished.

Helooksaroundtheclassroomheisnotsureifhewantssomeoneelsetoreadabouthisfather.

-I’llswapwithyou,saysagirlinthecorner.

-Okayhesays.

He looks at her writing and

instantly feels self conscious about

his own and hopes she doesn’t think

it’s untidy.

Hethinksthegirllooksfriendlyandkind.Shehastwopigtailsandajollylittleface.Helooksatherwritingandinstantlyfeelsselfconsciousabouthisownandhopesshe

doesn’tthinkit’suntidy.Helooksoverather;she’sreadingveryquicklyhethinks.Oncehe’sfinishedreadingabout the person she chose (herfather).Hewalksovertoher.

-I’mfinished;itwasverygoodhesays.

-Thankyou!Itsoundslikeyourfatherwouldbeagoodpersontomeet,shereplies.

Hefeelstearstrickledownhischeeksfromhiseyesandtheteachersconcernedgazeonhisback.

ThechildrenatLeithWalkPrimarychosetocreateeverythingthemselves,andusedacollagetechniquetomaketheirfilm‘TheDarkNeighbourhood’,exploringthethemeofmakingchoices.

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HOTSFilmmaking ChildrenatDuddingstonPrimarySchoolandLeithWalkPrimarySchoolhavebeenexploringtheirHealthandWellbeingtaårgetsthroughcollaborativegroupwork,andhavemadetwoverydifferent,butequallyfantasticshortanimatedfilms.Thechildrenhavebeeninvolvedineverystepofthefilmmakingprocess:creatingthecharacters;planningthestory;decidingwhatandwheretofilm;composingmusicforthescore;recordingnarration;andaddingcomputervisualandaudioeffects.Bothgroupsofchildrendecidedtotakeverydifferentapproaches,asyoucansee.

ThechildrenatDuddingstonPrimaryhavebeenexploringthethemeoffriendships,andhavecreatedawonderfulanimationusingLego–calledToyStory4!

Cameron and Jake brave the cold to film outdoors.

The main character encounters a problem…

The team are clearly enjoying themselves!

Camera man Zach and computeroperator Melissa concentrate on filming.

Despite a nasty accident, the other characters persevere to rescue their friend.

Could this be a happy ending?

Alistair and Shaun creating their characters.

One of the characters in the film has a light bulb moment!

The characters choose to take control of their lives, and make some changes.

Leo is concentrating hard.

Shaun takes frames for the movie.

The three main characters make some hard choices.

Shrekisacreepyogrewholivesinwoodsbesideaswamp.

LordFarquadisalittlepersonwhorulesDuloc.HemakesShrekreallyangrybecausehesendsloadsofmagicalcreaturestohisswamp.

ShrekandDonkeygotoseeFarquadtogethishomebackbutFarquadsayshecanonlyifShrekdoesachallengeforhim.HehastogoandrescueaprincesscalledFionawhoisstuckinatowerguardedbyadragon.

WhenShrekgetstothetowerhestartsfightingthedragon.HerescuestheprincessandquicklytakeshertoFarquad.ButwhentheygettoDuloc,itturnsoutthatprincessFionaisreallyanogre.Shemustmarry

Farquadtobecomeaprincessagain.ButsheissadbecausesheisinlovewithShrek.

Attheendofthefilm,ShrekandDonkeyridethedragontothechurch.Shrekgoesinandeverybodystartssaying“Booooh!”.ThenShreksaidtoFiona“Youarebeautiful”.ThesungoesdownandFionaturnsintoanogreagain.FarquadtriestoputherinatowerbutDragoncomestotherescueandintheendShrekandFionakissandgetmarried.

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Shrekby Alex Muir

TheLightIs…A shimmering jewelAn open stretchA glowing changeA gleaming planetAn undiscovered talentA note of praiseA reflection of hopeA burning desireA glittering danceA fragrant flowerA magnificent melody

The Light is….Here

By Elle Tidder

TheDarkIs…An open CavernA pool of inky blacknessThe wide unknownA velvet blanketAn uncharted sorrowWide wings of fearA shroud of despair

The world’s evening gownA never ending nightFields of Lost HopeThe Dark is….

Gone

By Elle Tidder

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coupleofminuteslatertwogirlswalkedpastdiscussingthepartysayinghowgooditwouldbe.Mikewaseaves-droppingtohearwhattheyweresaying.Hecouldn’thearthemthatwellbecauseoftheshoutingofallthekidsbutheheardsomeofit.HetoldhisfriendsandtheywerequiteupsetatwhatMikewastellingthem.Theytriedtomakeaconversationwitheachotherbuttheyweretooupsettotalk.

Thebellrangagainforeveryonetogoin.Mike’sclasswentbackintowatchtherestofthefilm.Afterthefilmhisteachergaveoutcakeanddrinks,butthecakeanddrinksjustremindedMikeabouttheparty.HisteacherandtheheadteachergaveaspeechabouthowgoodtheP7swere.The bell rang and the teacher and the head teacher all wavedgoodbye.Allthegirls

werecryingandhuggingeachother.Mikewashuggingsomegirlsandsaidbyeandwenthomesadlywiththeotherthreeboys.

When the boys got home Mike’smumhadpreparedaspeciallunch,buttheyweren’tthat hungry because their stomachsweresoreastheywerestillupset.Afterlunchtheywentgo-cartingandtriedtoenjoyitbuttheydidn’thavethatmuchfun.Theytriedtolookhappy,topleaseMike’smum,buttheystilllookedmiserable.Afterthego-cartingtheywenthome.Mike’smumdroppedthethreeboysoffattheirhomes.

“Didyouenjoythatthen?”sheasked.

“YehIdid,”Mikemumbled.

“Iknowyou’reupset,”shesaid,“butyou’llgetoverit.”

“Probably,”Mikesaid,butMikewouldalwaysrememberthatday.

Mikewasremindedofthetimewhenhewasleftout,asheshookhandsfirmlywithAlex.

“HiyaMikehowareyou?Notseenyouinagesmate,”Alexsaid.

Mikejustlookedathimandsaid,“YehI’mgood.You?”

“I’mgood,sowhatdoyouworkasthen?”

“Iworkasalawyer.”

“Wowthat’sgood,”Alexsaid.

“Alex,doyourememberthetimeinprimary7whenyouleftmeandthreeboysoutofyourparty?”

Alex’ssmiledisappeared.“OhGod,”saidAlex.“Iremembernow.WowIamreallysorryMikeIdidn’tknowwhatIwasthinking.”

“Butwhydidyouleaveusout?”Mikeasked.

“IwasscaredofLiambecauseIthoughtifIletyouinmypartyhewouldhatemeandnottalktome.”

“OhIalwaysthoughtyouneverlikedme.”

“Noitwasn’tthat.Ididlikeyouthen,”Alexsaid.”Ifeelterrible.I’msosorryIleftyououtandyou’vebeenhurt.”

ItwastheendofaswelteringdayandMikewasleavinghisofficeinHaymarket.Hehurried out the door in a rush togetthetrainhomeontime.Ithadbeenascorchingdaysohedecidedtotakehistieoffandopenhistopbuttontoletsomeairin.MikewashurryingalongthepavementwhenhesawhisoldclassmateAlexwalkingtowardshim.

MikewasshockedbecausehewassmilinglookedreallyfriendlyandhadhishandoutreadytoshakeMike’shand.MikewassurprisedbecauseAlexwasquitehorribletohiminprimary7.

Itwassummerthenwhentheywereinprimary7.Itwasahotdayintheconcreteplayground and the children

werelookingforshadenearoneofthetrees.Mikeandhisthreefriendswereinthecoolbikeshedtalkingwhentheystartedhearingexcitedscreamingandshouting.SotheywentoutofthebikeshedtowardstheplaygroundandnoticedAlexwashandingoutinvitationstohisendofprimary7party.Mikeandhisfriendssatpatientlyonabenchthinkingtheyweregoingtogetaninvitationtohisparty.Theywatchedthepilegetsmallerandsmaller.ThentherewerenoenvelopesleftandMikeandhisfriendsdidn’tgetaninvitation.Theywereallreallyupset.Theirstomachsfeltliketheyweregettingtiedinknotsandtheireyesstartedstinging.

WhenMikegothomehetoldhismumaboutitandshewasshocked.“That’sameanthingtodo.Howcouldhismumanddadlethimdothat?I’llorganise something special foryoufourboys.”Shethenarrangedgo-cartingforalltheboyswhowereleftout,becauseMikehadneverbeengo-carting,andhadbeentalkingaboutitforquiteawhile.

Itwasthelastdayofprimary7.Theclasswassittingdownandrelaxedwatching“ToyStory”.Miketriedtoforgetabout the party until the bell forbreakrang.Theschoolranoutnoisily.Mikedidn’twanttospeaktoanyonebecausehewasafraidpeoplemighttalkabouttheparty.Hewasjustsittingwithhisfriendschattingaboutthefilm.A

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LeftOut By Ross

ChristmasGibbonsby Adam Bojelian

ChristmasGibbonswaswrittenbyAdamBojelian,aged11.HOTSsupportAdam’seducationathomeasheawaitshisplaceinamainstreamschool.HispoemtheChristmasGibbonsisremarkableforaboyofhisagebutwhatmakesitallthemoreremarkableisthatAdamhasarangeofhealthissueshedealswith24hoursaday.Heusesawheelchairandhasextremelylimiteduseofhishands.Hehasatracheotomy,isoxygen-dependent and also has a seizuredisorder.Althoughregisteredblind,hehassomesight.

Adamhasdevelopedatechniqueofblinkingtocommunicate.Herespondstoquestions,andisabletoselectwordsfromlistsofupto100words.Adamhasdevelopedhis technique so that he can beblinkingwholesentencesfasterthanhismothercanunderstand,andhasdevelopedaloveforcreatingverse

HispoemwassubmittedtoBluePeterandheisnowoneofonly1000peopletoreceiveaGoldBluePeterBadgeintheprogramme’s52-yearhistory.OtherfamouspeoplewhohavereceivedthisawardareDavid

Beckham,theQueenandJ.K.Rowling.HeishopingtotraveltoLondontocollecthisaward,butifheisunabletothenhispoemwillbereadonair.

WhenAdamwasinterviewedbytheHeraldhesaidhewas“really,reallyexcited”towinhisgoldBluePeterbadgeandwhenaskedabouthismovetoamainstreameducation,hegaveahugesmileandsaidhe“absolutelyloves”hisschoolwork.Hesaid:“Ithinkitisbrilliant,Ilovesurprisingpeoplewithmypoemsandreallylikeitwhenpeoplelaughatmyfunnypoems.”

Gibbons are fun at Christmas,They don’t mind the snow,Gibbons are fun at Christmas,But there is something about them you don’t know.

They are Santa’s secret weapon,They work on Christmas night,Swinging across the roof tops,They really are a sight.

Bringing lots of presents,All around the world they go,More agile than the reindeers,Swinging to and fro.

They are Santa’s secret postiesBringing gifts wrapped in paper and ribbons,You thought the reindeers did this job,Now you know it is the gibbons!

YoungPeople’sCentresareplacesofsafetyforsomeyoungpeople,butsometimestheyareforthesafetyofothersaroundtheyoungperson.Someyoungpeoplearereferredbecauseofsubstanceabuse,notbeingsafeathome,fightingoraggressivebehaviourandputtingthemselvesorothersatrisk.Asaresultofthistheunitcan be unsettling at times and teachersshouldtakethisintoaccount.

ThefacilitiesintheYPChelpmaketheunitaplaceofsafetyfortheyoungpeople,andmayhelpthemgetbackintoeducation.Someofthefacilitiesareacomputerroomwhichhastwocomputerswithinternetaccessandtwosofassothatyoungpeoplecansitandtalktothepersonwhoisonthecomputerorevenreadabook.Therearelotsofmodernbooks.Thereisalso a music room and it has asetofdrums,severalguitarsandotherinstruments.TheyalsohavetwobigloungesforsittingwatchingTVorplayinggamesorevenjust

sittingchattingtosomeone.Althoughthismightsoundfunandexciting,itisnothomeandteachersshouldtakethisintoconsideration.

YPCstafftryandmakeitaslikehomeaspossible.Theirjobistokeepresidentssafe,makesurealltheirneedsaremetforexampleiftheyneednewclothesorwanttojoinanactivity.Atnightiftheycan’tsleepnightstaffwillmakehotchocolateandmarshmallowsandhaveachattomakesuretheyareOK.Theyalsomakesurethereisagoodvarietyofdinners,lunchandbreakfastseachday.Theyare good to sit andhavealaughandachatwith.Staffareawareofyoung peoples backgroundsandcannotifyoutreach teachersofthey are going through a difficulttimeandmight not be able

to concentrate on their school workaswellasusual.

LivinginaYPCisdifficultitself.Forexamplepeoplearecoming and going and that isunsettling.Whenpeoplehavedifficultiessomeofthemexpressthisthroughangerandsmashstuffup.ThiscanbeupsettingtowatchbutstaffalwaysmakesuretheotherresidentsareOK.Itisnot surprising that school can beadifficultybecausepupilsmightfindithardtogetupforschooloreventhinkwhat’sthe point in going to school whentheycanjuststayintheunitwiththeotherresidentswhodon’tgotoschooleither.

However,staffdoencourageresidentstoworkhardatschool and to attend regularly andtheyhelpwithanyhomeworkthatpupilsneedassistancewith.Outreachteachersshouldknowoftheirdifficultiesandtryandsupporttheminanywaypossibletogetthembackintoeducationandgettheirlivesbackontrack.

ApaperforanOutreachTeachers’HandbookprovidinginformationaboutLookedAfterYoungPeopleinYPCs

By Sarah Thomson

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ThefirstthingInoticedasIsteppedoutofthecarwasthesweetsmellofhorsesthatdominatedtheair.ThecloserIwalkedtothestablesthemoreexcitedIbecame.Iwasintroducedtoaveryhandsomebutcheekylittlepony.Hisfurwassowarmandcomfortingtotouchandhismuzzleassoftassilk.Helookedmassivecomparedtomysixyearoldself,andthatmademequitenervous.NeverdidIrealisethatthisridinglessonwouldbelightingthesparkofalifetimehobby.

EversinceIcanremember,Ihavealwaysbeeninvolved

withhorses.Whetherthatwashavingridinglessonsorhelpingfriendswhohadhorses.I’vealwaysenjoyedthem.MytypicalparentsdecidedIwasnotabletoprovidethetimeandcareahorseneeds,nevermindthefinancialdifficulties!Inevergaveuponmydreamofonedayowningmyownponythough.Thatonehorribleword‘no!’wasrepeatedsomanytimestomewhenIaskedtheallimportantquestion.ThebirthdaysandChristmasesIwasleftunsatisfiedwithnopony.ThemanytantrumsandtearsIcriedwhentryingtopersuademyparents.Italldidn’twork.

The days leading up to my fifteenthbirthdayweresomehowdifferentfrommyyoungerchildhoodbirthdays.The hoping and dreaming haddisappeared.ItwaslikeIhadmaturedmywholewayofthinking.Ihadnotevenaskedforanythingbutsomeclothesandsomesmallextratreats.Iwasn’tevenlookingforwardtomybirthdayallthatmuch.ItwasalmostlikeIhadgivenuponmydream.ThatwasprobablywhyIhadn’tnoticedmyfamily’ssuspiciousbehaviour,astheytriedtohidesomethingfromme.Irememberaskingmymumoneeveningwheredadhaddisappearedto,shereplied,“He’swithgranddadbuyinganewlawnmower.”IfIhadbeenmoreaware,Iwouldhavenoticedthelookonmysister’sfaceasshetriedtohideaguiltysmile.

Iwokeupasusualtoawarmsunnyday.Imetmyparentsinthesittingroomandwedidthewholeopeningpresentsand celebrating my birthday bit.IgotsomeprettynewclothesandacoupleofDVDsbutnothingspecial.Therewasnothingallthatdifferentfromeveryotherbirthdayapartfromthestrangeanticipationandexcitementthatwasintheair.Afterspendingsometimeathome,myselfandmyfamilytookataxitomygrandparents’house.Againthewholefamilywerestartingtogetmetoponderwhytheyseemedsoexcited.Ithoughtthatallweweredoingwasgoingtomygrandparents’

TheBigSurprise

By Charlotte Hunter

houseforafamilybarbeque.Wearrivedattheirhouse,thenextthingIknewIwasbeingledtowardstheiroldstableyard.

Mydadtookouthiscameraandsodidmymum.Ithoughtthiswasabitsuspicious.Iturnedthecorneraswewalkedtowardsthefieldandthereitwas.Ahorse.Ifeltmycheeksburning up in a bright red colourandmylegswentlikejelly,itwasallpureshock.NowordscameoutofmymouthwhenItriedtospeak.ThefirstthingsIwasthinkingwere,“Whyisthereahorsehere?”and“Wherediditcomefrom?”Thebeautifulchestnutmarewaswalkingtowardsme.Agreatfeelingofdisbelieftookoverme.Ididn’tknowwhattosaywhenmy grandmother said that thathorsewasallmine!.Itwasthebestfeelingever. IstillcarrythatfeelingofdisbelieftodayasIcan’tquitebelievethatIreallyhavemyveryownhorse.It’sbeenthreemonthsnowthatIhavehadmyhorseLandy.Shehashelped me get through some realtoughpartsofmylife.Ihavebeenstrugglingwithanxietyanddepressionforthelasttwoyears.Theonethingthathaskeptmegoingismyhorse.Sheinspiresmetogetbetterandstriveformyfuture.Shehasreallychangedmylife.Idon’tknowhowtothankmygrandparentsenoughforthebestbirthdaypresentIhaveeverhad.

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Home’sYouHome can make you smile and weepAll the words you came to speakUnder that roof under those stars

Home is dangerous but home is safeåIt can be a crude but calm embracåeOutside that door outside their minds

Home is success but also failureAll the pictures on the wallAll the dust beneath the hall,Beneath your never failing reach.

Home is ugly but home is beautyThe softly burning candlesBeside the smell of jasmine hideThe hanging smell of stench override.

Home is everything Home is nothingHome is the ground beneath youHome is the sky above you.

But most importantly Home is You.

Elle Tidder

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TheOtherWorldIt’s a scary meeting

A bottle of coke shaken up

The corner you have been pushed into

The black shadow that never leaves you alone

Where dark never meets light

The evil hole you stepped into

The monster that meets you in his mysterious cave

Your world that’s been trampled on

Cold, black and silent.

Death…

By Lucy Allan

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ThisGreatWorldA ray of sunshine

The smell of fresh air

A warm welcoming hug

It’s a beautiful place of happiness

The floodlight that meets your eyes

Where light never meets dark

A 500 watt light bulb staring you in the eye

You can hear the children’s laughter

A girl singing her song…

Life

By Lucy Allan

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Hueyopenedthedoortothesmilesofayoungwoman.Great,herecomesthedriverofbeetledrivesanddoubleglazing,hethought.Butinsteadtheyoungwomanjustsmiledandthen,withoutword,steppedoverhisthresholdandwandereddownhiscorridor.Excuseme?

Sheranherhandoverthepaintsplatteredradiator,hernailstinkeringonthemetal.Thekitchenwasontheleftandshemadeherwaytoitasifshe’dbeenaghostmooningoverhislifeforyears.Whathefoundmorecuriousthough,ashetraipsedafterherasinadream,washowsheseemedtoknowwherejustabouteverythingwas;withoutthinkingsheflickedtheswitchofthekettleandwentstraighttothetoprighthandsidecupboardfortheteabags.Chaiteabagstobeprecise.Thensheturnedtothefridgeformilk.

“Ican’trememberwhereyoukeepthemugs?”shesaid.

Thisseemedtheoddestofquestionssincethemugswereperhapsthemostobviousofall,hangingonthehomemadewoodenholderhisdaughter

hadcraftedindesignclassacoupleofyearsago.Orwasitlongeragothanthat?

Hemotionedinfrontofheratthemugs.

“No,notthoseones,they’redirty…”

Really,hecouldhaveswornhe’dcleanedthem?

Hegaveheraquizzicallookthensaid,“MiddlecupboardIthink.”

Shereacheduptolookandasshedidhecaughtsightofthe name badge pinned to her skirt.Dellaitread.Whatanunusualname…

The tea ritual complete she handedhimamug,itsteamedlightlyandwasburningtothetouch.Hecouldsmellcinnamon and other spices waftingup.

“Ihavethephotosbytheway,”shesaidsuddenly.

Hueynearjumpedatherwords.He’dforgottenaboutthestrangeyoungwomanin

hiskitchen.Helookedupbutshewasnolongerthere.“Whydon’tyoucomehavealook?”hervoicewaveredthrough the still midday air fromanotherroom.

Hemadehiswaythroughtothefrontroom.Sunlightebbed through the blinds and shadowscloudedtheyoungwoman’sformonthesofa.

“Sitdownthen,Ihaven’tgotmuchtime.Thisisjustashortvisit.”

Hesat;unsureifheshouldsayanything,unsureifheshouldaskwhoshewasorwhatshewasdoingbutitseemedtoolatenow.He’dallowedherin,letherputthekettleonandtoldherwheretofindthecleanmugs.Hecouldn’tverywellaskhertoleavenow.Soinsteadhejustsat,silentlywaitingforhertoproducewhatevershehadsaidshewasgoingtoshowhim.Ican’tremember.

FromabrownleatherbagDellaproducedapackofphotos.Flippingopenthepacketshepulledthewadofpicturesoutandplacedthemonherlap.

“Sothat’sSandyandIonourweddingday,there’slittleNinaasourflowergirl.YourememberNina?Isn’tshesweet?She’sonlyfive,whataweetootsheis.Youknow,Lexi’slittlegirl?Ohandthenthisoneisofusattheairport.Theflightwasmanic,Sandywasanervouswreck.Itoldyouhedoesn’tlikeflying,didn’tI?Youprobablydon’tremember.Don’tworry.”

Hueystaredatherinbemusedsilence.Whowasthisyoungwoman?Thisgirl?Healmostfeltlikeheknewherbutwasn’tquitesure,hecertainlyfeltlikeheshouldknowher.With her red auburn hair and shortdenimskirtandpaleskinandredrimmedtiredeyesandwhitecottoncardyoverabaggyyellowvesttop,she seemed to be imprinted somewhereinhisconsciencebutjumbledupandmismatchedandcrossedwithotherpeople.Hecouldnotputthe shards together; instead theyjustrestedunperturbedinhismind.Sheseemedtostillbe yammering on about the photos though and he tried to lookasifheunderstoodwhatshewasgoingonabout.Shefumbledontothenextpicture,pointingadaintyfingeratyetanotherface.That’sJames,heheard.ButHueywasnotinterestedinJames.Insteadhehad noticed the tattoo on her rightindexfinger,atrebleclefinblackinktwirleditselfononesidefromthefirstjointuptowardsherpinkpaintednails.Howcurious,haveIseenthatbefore?No,heardofitbefore? “Whatdoyouthinkofthemthen?Youcankeepthemifyoulike.Wehavecopiesbackhomeandthenegativestoosoyou’rewelcometothem.”

Shegentlypushedthepacketofphotosintohishands.

“Maybeyoucouldgetaframeforafewofthemtoo?Orthatnicelady,youknow,theonewhohelpsyouwiththe

shopping,shecouldgetyouone?Youcoulddowithsomephotosuparoundhere,it’sabitbare.”

Hueynodded,unabletoconjureareply.Heknewher.Yethereallydidn’tknowher.Whowasshe?Itwasseemedprobablethatthiswasadream,thatifhereachedouthishanditwouldgorightthroughher,thatshewasaghost,thathewasgoingmad;butshewasthere,sitting,staring,talkingtohiminhisfrontroomonanafternooninApril.

“Well,Ibestbeoff.IleftJaelatthecrèchesoIhavetogetback.I’lltakehertoseeyoubeforewegohome,youadoreher,”shesmiled.

Shestoodup,slungherbagontooneshoulderandwalkedtowardsthedoor.Hueyfollowed,hislegsobeyingamindoftheirown.AtthefrontdoorDellastopped,clickingitoffthelatchandopeningitwidetoletthesunslipin.Shesteppedoutandturnedtofacehim.

“Youdon’trememberme,doyou?”shesaidsoftly.

Hehunghisheadslightly,staring at the ground and wringinghishandsformoment.Thenhelookedupandshookhishead.

Theyoungwomanlentforwardandkissedhimonthecheek,“Nevermind.SeeyousoonDad.”

ChalkMemoriesBy Jo Gratton

21

23

Asponsoredcycleridehasraised£2000tofundaspecialprizeforbraveryandinspiration,inhonourofPaulDavies,aHOTSpupilbetween2006and2009,whosadlydiedinJulyoflastyear,aftera courageous battle against leukaemia.

Paulwasanabsoluteinspiration.Throughouttheyearsofillness,hecontinuedto engage in his education enthusiasticallyandwithhischaracteristicwickedsenseofhumour.Hewasdeterminedtosithisexams,anddidthisagainstalltheodds,finishinghisStandardGradeEnglishathome,at7.00pmintheevening,havingbeeninhospital(accompaniedbyanexaminvigilator)onanemergencyvisitformostoftheday!

Paulwasanimmensesupportto other young people in SickKids,and,despiteallthe obstacles managed

tomaintainawidecircleoffriendslocally.Hewasselected by his peers to be awardedaspecialprizeforbraveryandinspirationin2009and2010attheCurrieHighSchoolawards–bothverymovingoccasions.

family and outreach teachers asked if he would like them to raise money to have an award established

in his name

Hesoclearlywantedtomakeadifference,andwassoencouragedbytheawardof

theseprizesthathisfamilyandoutreachteachersaskedifhewouldlikethemtoraisemoneytohaveanawardestablishedinhisname–anofferheacceptedwithhis characteristic grin and enthusiasm.

SoinOctoberPaul’smum,godmother,andtwoofhisoutreachteacherscycledover50milesfromCurrietotheFalkirkWheelandback,andwiththefantasticsupportofalltheHOTSteamandotherservicesinWestwoodHouseraised£2000tofundthePaulDaviesBraveheartPrize–inrecognitionofPaul’sbraveryanddeterminationtolivelifetothefull.

Sponsoredcycleraises£2000forPaulDaviesBraveheartaward

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IwenttoLondonwithmymumandmysister.Ittook5hourstogettherebytrain.MyfavouriteplaceswereHammley’sandtheLondonDungeon.Itwasagoodtrip.

MyTriptoLondonby Luca (26.10.10)

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