HOTS OFF 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: • in the Royal Hospital for Sick Children • in the Young People’s Unit, Tipperlinn • Looked After (and Accommodated) • part of the Gypsy Traveller Teaching Group • excluded from school • taught at home due to their medical condition • taught in one of our Education Groups • part of the Young Mums’ Unit We have produced magazines before, but this time we decided to go for a more “professional” look. For this, many thanks to the Learning Publications Unit – especially Tracey Morrisey and Jackie Henrie. We hope you enjoy the magazine. Any feedback is always welcome. Thank you and well done to all our contributors.
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Transcript
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.
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.
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.
ChloepressedhardagainstthesideofherheadtryingtobarricadethetauntingVoicesfromenteringherears.Herheadpounded,heartracedasshelookedaroundherdarkemptyroom.TheseveresilenceofthedarkDecembernighturgedtheVoicestogetlouderandlouder.Witheachsyllablethevolumeseemedtoheighten.BeforelongChloe’sheadthrobbed,heavierandheavierwiththeVoicesgettinglouderastheystartedtotalkovereachother.ThefriendlyVoicessheonceknewhadmerged into one monstrous beast.
“Please!Leavemealone!Whatdoyouwant?”Chloescreamed through sobs withoutpartingherlips.
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
Chloecreptupthestairsandshutthedoorslowlybehindher.Herroomwasnolongeraquiet,peacefulplacetosleep,notwiththeshoutingfivefiguresloomingoverher.EventhoughtheVoiceswerestandingsoclose,whenshereached out to push them awayherarmneverseemedlongenoughtotouchthem.
Asthedarkofthenightfelloverthequietstreetsheheardhermotherandfatherclimbintobed.TheVoicesallstaredatChloeoncethedeepbreathing inched through thewallfromthenextroom.Chloetriedtoswallowthelumpoutofherthroat.
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
TheVoicestookhertoherparents’bed,onhermother’sside.Theknifeheldtightlyinbothhandswasraisedaboveherhead.Chloetriedtostoptheknifefrombecominganycloser to her mother but as sheresistedagainsttheforceofthevoices,overwhelmingpainshotthroughherlimbs.Thetipoftheknifecameincontactwiththemother’schest,thebladerestinginthegapwhereherribsdidnotquitemeet.
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.
doesn’tthinkit’suntidy.Helooksoverather;she’sreadingveryquicklyhethinks.Oncehe’sfinishedreadingabout the person she chose (herfather).Hewalksovertoher.
Thebellrangagainforeveryonetogoin.Mike’sclasswentbackintowatchtherestofthefilm.Afterthefilmhisteachergaveoutcakeanddrinks,butthecakeanddrinksjustremindedMikeabouttheparty.HisteacherandtheheadteachergaveaspeechabouthowgoodtheP7swere.The bell rang and the teacher and the head teacher all wavedgoodbye.Allthegirls
When the boys got home Mike’smumhadpreparedaspeciallunch,buttheyweren’tthat hungry because their stomachsweresoreastheywerestillupset.Afterlunchtheywentgo-cartingandtriedtoenjoyitbuttheydidn’thavethatmuchfun.Theytriedtolookhappy,topleaseMike’smum,buttheystilllookedmiserable.Afterthego-cartingtheywenthome.Mike’smumdroppedthethreeboysoffattheirhomes.
ItwastheendofaswelteringdayandMikewasleavinghisofficeinHaymarket.Hehurried out the door in a rush togetthetrainhomeontime.Ithadbeenascorchingdaysohedecidedtotakehistieoffandopenhistopbuttontoletsomeairin.MikewashurryingalongthepavementwhenhesawhisoldclassmateAlexwalkingtowardshim.
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
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
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.
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’
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.
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.”
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
theseprizesthathisfamilyandoutreachteachersaskedifhewouldlikethemtoraisemoneytohaveanawardestablishedinhisname–anofferheacceptedwithhis characteristic grin and enthusiasm.