“Hi, I’m Jasmine Nix: School Reporter.”
I had started practising introducing myself over the summer holidays before I started at Bungendore High School in Year 7. The school year started in February, which is still hot in this part of Australia.
At the end of Year 6 at our primary school we had gone to the high school for an orientation day. I was caught the minute we went into the school newspaper office. This was for me! The walls were covered with old editions with exciting headlines like “PE teacher falls from climbing rope” and “School Tuck Shop fails health test”. This was great investigative reporting! I wanted in!
The place was buzzing. People were typing, talking, running in and out. An older student was obviously running the show and he stopped issuing instructions when he saw us. I saw him close his eyes for a second, sigh and walk towards us.
“Oh, I forgot you guys were coming,” he said looking towards Mr Franklin, our teacher.
“Let me show you round,” he continued. He pointed out the 2 computers available to the newspaper team, how being on the Clarion (the real name is the Bungendore High School Clarion) contributed to our school grades and how not everyone could be on the team.
“You’ve got to be good. You’ve got to show me you’re good. If anyone is interested, come and see me next year during Week 1 and we’ll talk. But I’ve got our final edition to get out today and I have to get busy.”
“Mr. Franklin, who is that?” I asked him outside.
“That’s Liam Costigan. He’s the Clarion editor. He’s the youngest editor in the Claron’s history. Only Year 10 this year. Are you interested, Jasmine?”
“Yes, yes I am. I really want to be a reporter for the Clarion.”
******************************
Since the day three years ago when I started at Bungendore Primary School I had been friends with Francesca (Frankie) and Pete. My parents used to work in the Tax Office but had left with what they called “a package” and set up a lavender farm just outside Bungendore. They had explained that the package contained money to compensate them for their jobs no longer being required. Now they were chasing their dream – running their own business. They had known nothing about farming before they started this, even less about lavender farming. But, they studied and worked hard, learning how to grow and harvest the lavender and then how to turn it into products we could sell. The smell of lavender used to remind me of old ladies. Now it reminds me of hard work. My career intentions include nothing that smells of lavender. I want to write, to be a journalist.
I met Frankie and Pete at the pool on Saturday afternoon and told them that I wanted to join the Clarion team next term. We were sitting on the edge of the pool dangling our legs in the cool water.
“You’ve been watching Smallville again haven’t you?” asked Pete, “See yourself as Lois Lane, I suppose.”
“So what! I think it would be cool to be Lois Lane.” I snapped back a bit put out by his remark.
“Okay, okay, calm down Lois. I think it’s a great idea, but you are going to need a camera unless you have someone in mind as Jimmy Olson.” Pete said trying soothe my ruffles.
“Of course, a camera,” I groaned. “What’s a story without a great picture! I don’t have one and I don’t have enough money to buy one.”
“Maybe you could get your Mum and Dad to give you one for your birthday next month,” Frankie suggested helpfully.
“Beat you to the other end,” Pete yelled as he jumped up ready to dive into the pool. Just as well we were at the deep end. Frankie took up the dare and they both raced off. I was left thinking about how I could get myself a camera. Who needs a Jimmy Olson! Lois Lane with a camera was a great idea.
I brought up the idea of a camera for my birthday at dinner that night. Mum and Dad looked at each other and Mum said quietly. “Jasmine, our cash reserves are low right now, but we might be able to spare some if you could help us out with making the sachets for the dried lavender over the next few weeks.”
Let me tell you, making sachets for the dried lavender is one of the most boring jobs on the farm. You have to cut out a rectangle of muslin, edge it in lace, sew it into a bag and then add some ribbon ties. The only job more boring is pushing dried lavender into the sachets. Was my commitment to being a reporter strong enough to withstand this first hurdle? Would Lois Lane have the commitment to sew hundreds of tiny bags? Probably not. But I would. So we struck a deal; I would sew and they would buy me a camera for my birthday.
I had started practising introducing myself over the summer holidays before I started at Bungendore High School in Year 7. The school year started in February, which is still hot in this part of Australia.
At the end of Year 6 at our primary school we had gone to the high school for an orientation day. I was caught the minute we went into the school newspaper office. This was for me! The walls were covered with old editions with exciting headlines like “PE teacher falls from climbing rope” and “School Tuck Shop fails health test”. This was great investigative reporting! I wanted in!
The place was buzzing. People were typing, talking, running in and out. An older student was obviously running the show and he stopped issuing instructions when he saw us. I saw him close his eyes for a second, sigh and walk towards us.
“Oh, I forgot you guys were coming,” he said looking towards Mr Franklin, our teacher.
“Let me show you round,” he continued. He pointed out the 2 computers available to the newspaper team, how being on the Clarion (the real name is the Bungendore High School Clarion) contributed to our school grades and how not everyone could be on the team.
“You’ve got to be good. You’ve got to show me you’re good. If anyone is interested, come and see me next year during Week 1 and we’ll talk. But I’ve got our final edition to get out today and I have to get busy.”
“Mr. Franklin, who is that?” I asked him outside.
“That’s Liam Costigan. He’s the Clarion editor. He’s the youngest editor in the Claron’s history. Only Year 10 this year. Are you interested, Jasmine?”
“Yes, yes I am. I really want to be a reporter for the Clarion.”
******************************
Since the day three years ago when I started at Bungendore Primary School I had been friends with Francesca (Frankie) and Pete. My parents used to work in the Tax Office but had left with what they called “a package” and set up a lavender farm just outside Bungendore. They had explained that the package contained money to compensate them for their jobs no longer being required. Now they were chasing their dream – running their own business. They had known nothing about farming before they started this, even less about lavender farming. But, they studied and worked hard, learning how to grow and harvest the lavender and then how to turn it into products we could sell. The smell of lavender used to remind me of old ladies. Now it reminds me of hard work. My career intentions include nothing that smells of lavender. I want to write, to be a journalist.
I met Frankie and Pete at the pool on Saturday afternoon and told them that I wanted to join the Clarion team next term. We were sitting on the edge of the pool dangling our legs in the cool water.
“You’ve been watching Smallville again haven’t you?” asked Pete, “See yourself as Lois Lane, I suppose.”
“So what! I think it would be cool to be Lois Lane.” I snapped back a bit put out by his remark.
“Okay, okay, calm down Lois. I think it’s a great idea, but you are going to need a camera unless you have someone in mind as Jimmy Olson.” Pete said trying soothe my ruffles.
“Of course, a camera,” I groaned. “What’s a story without a great picture! I don’t have one and I don’t have enough money to buy one.”
“Maybe you could get your Mum and Dad to give you one for your birthday next month,” Frankie suggested helpfully.
“Beat you to the other end,” Pete yelled as he jumped up ready to dive into the pool. Just as well we were at the deep end. Frankie took up the dare and they both raced off. I was left thinking about how I could get myself a camera. Who needs a Jimmy Olson! Lois Lane with a camera was a great idea.
I brought up the idea of a camera for my birthday at dinner that night. Mum and Dad looked at each other and Mum said quietly. “Jasmine, our cash reserves are low right now, but we might be able to spare some if you could help us out with making the sachets for the dried lavender over the next few weeks.”
Let me tell you, making sachets for the dried lavender is one of the most boring jobs on the farm. You have to cut out a rectangle of muslin, edge it in lace, sew it into a bag and then add some ribbon ties. The only job more boring is pushing dried lavender into the sachets. Was my commitment to being a reporter strong enough to withstand this first hurdle? Would Lois Lane have the commitment to sew hundreds of tiny bags? Probably not. But I would. So we struck a deal; I would sew and they would buy me a camera for my birthday.