Journal articles on the topic 'Hunʾgu school'

LANGUAGE NOTE | Document text in Chinese; abstract also in English.From the viewpoint of marketing, schools open sports facilities to the public is the same as the service industry. It is a significant index and challenge in successful management if the service quality satisfies customers. In this articles, base on a standardized service quality performance matrix which proposed by Hung et al., the satisfaction index(Ix) and expectation index (Iy) were used to build a service quality performance matrix with 16 quality zone. The managers can use service quality performance matrix to improve service quality. The satisfaction index and expectation index of the service items must be located in the service quality performance matrix Bij. Thus, the managers can measure the quality performance value r and draw up a tactic to improve service quality.以行銷觀點而言，校園運動設施開放使用，就如同服務業，其服務品質能否達到顧客的滿意，為評估營運成功與否的重要指標與挑戰。本文根據Hung等人所提之標準化的服務品質績效矩陣的概念，定義本文滿意度指標(Ix)及重視度指標(Iy)，建構一個16區塊的服務品質績效矩陣。管理者只需依服務要項的滿意度指標及重視度指標所在服務品質績效矩陣位置Bij，即可評量出各服務項的品質績效值r，並擬定出服務品質的改善的順序與策略。

Our school needed some bulletin boards hung in the front hallway. The custodian and I asked some sixthgrade students if they wanted to help us. A group of six offered their assistance. As they began to take measurements of the designated areas, they had many questions for the custodian and me. “How wide do you want these bulletin boards?” asked one.

ABSTRACTThe Covid-19 pandemic has caused learning to be carried out online. Not all students, however, are ready for online learning. This study aims to examine the level of readiness of eighth-grade students at a junior high school through an explanatory sequential mixed method design consisting of quantitative and qualitative phases. Student readiness for online learning in this study was reviewed from five dimensions: self-directed learning, motivation for learning, computer/internet self-efficacy, learner control, and online communication self-efficacy. The Online Learning Readiness Scale (OLRS) survey proposed by Hung (2010) with a five-point-Likert scale was used to collect quantitative data. The data were analyzed quantitatively, and the level of readiness was measured utilizing the e-learning readiness assessment model suggested by Aydin and Tasci (2005). Follow-up interviews were then held to support the quantitative data. The results showed that the majority of students entered the level of "ready but needs a few improvements". However, there was one item in the dimension of self-directed learning that was included in the level of "not ready needs some work". The implication of this study is the need to encourage students to actively communicate in online learning, especially for shy students.ABSTRAKPandemi Covid-19 menyebabkan pembelajaran dilakukan secara online. Namun, tidak semua siswa siap dengan pembelajaran online. Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk menguji tingkat kesiapan siswa kelas VIII sebuah sekolah menengah pertama melalui penelitian explanatory sequential mixed method yang terdiri dari tahap kuantitatif dan kualitatif. Kesiapan siswa untuk pembelajaran online ditinjau dari lima dimensi: pembelajaran mandiri, motivasi belajar, efikasi diri komputer / internet, kontrol peserta didik, dan efikasi diri komunikasi online. Survei Online Learning Readiness Scale (OLRS) yang digagas oleh Hung (2010) dilengkapi dengan skala Likert lima poin digunakan untuk mengumpulkan data kuantitatif. Data kemudian dianalisis dengan menggunakan analisis deskriptif kuantitatif dan tingkatannya diukur dengan model penilaian kesiapan E-learning yang dikemukakan oleh Aydin dan Tasci (2005). Wawancara kemudian dilakukan untuk mengumpulkan data guna mendukung data kuantitatif. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa secara keseluruhan siswa memasuki level “siap, tetapi perlu sedikit perbaikan”. Namun, ada satu item dalam dimensi pembelajaran mandiri yang termasuk dalam tingkat "belum siap, perlu peningkatan". Implikasi dari penelitian ini adalah perlunya mendorong siswa untuk aktif berkomunikasi dalam pembelajaran online, khususnya bagi siswa yang pemalu.

The curse of being the “new, new” thing was initially hung around the neck of the current incarnation of Quebec’s ‘recognition of prior learning’ program. However, this has changed as the program has evolved into a working service for Quebec residents. This article will examine the current public offering of the recognition of prior learning program in Quebec school boards and colleges, and will briefly discuss the historical context of the program in the province of Quebec.

The concept of the centre of mass of a rigid body as a virtual point where the weight force acts is not easy to understand without a number of supporting school experiments. In school practice, however, experiments onthis topic are often limited to a few of the simplest cases in which a simple flat body, such as a triangle or rectangle, is hung in two or mostly three directions to show where the corresponding plumb lines intersect. Typically, simple wooden bodies are used, on which the plumb lines are already drawn through the centre of mass. However, such experiments can be boring for students and are probably insufficient to illuminate all aspects of the topic. Furthermore, if the experiments are only demonstrated by the teacher rather than being performed in groups, the opportunity to train students’ skills and develop nature-science competences is missed. We therefore prepared and performed a series of group experiments in logical sequence for students of the 8th and 9th grades of primary school, so that their full active participation was invoked. The experience with such an experiment setup with very simple equipment, together with the open discussion of results, increased pupil motivation for physics and perhaps also improved understanding of some physics problems regarding the centre of mass, even for younger students.

The aim of this study is to evaluate students ' readiness for online learning at the Near East University English Preparatory School and to provide suggestions on how they can be further supported to strengthen their online learning. 202 adult students participated in the study were fall semester students of the 2019-2020 Academic year. As the data collection tool, Online Learning Readiness Scale (OLRS) by Hung et al. (2010) was used. The dimensions of the scale are; self-directed learning, motivation, learner control, computer-Internet self-efficacy, and online communication self-efficacy. The data obtained showed that the participants were ready in all dimensions with some variations within the dimensions. In the self-directed learning dimension, the participants were observed to lack the ability to manage time in their studies however they were willing to ask for help when they need help. Although the scores were above the average, Computer / Internet self-efficacy was found to have the lowest scores compared to the other dimensions. Participants stated that they were distracted by other online applications while studying for their online course. Results for computer / internet self-efficacy dimension showed that participants did not have a very high readiness in using basic Microsoft Office Programs, reaching information easily via online search and using online applications. Motivation and Online Communication self-efficacy dimensions were found to be the dimensions where all the items received a high score. Keywords: Online learning, online learning readines, english preparatory school

It was in October of 1964 when I first used a TEM, it was at the Siemens training school run by their agent Aeon Laboratories. A service engineer (we didn't call them technicians in those days), Robin Willis ran the course, five days for just alignment and cleaning! Robin, by the way, moved to University College London, Anatomy department and became the first person to publish on the tilting of biological samples. He actually invented tomography without knowing it! He used a fish tank within which he hung the negatives of his +60 to -60 tilt series. This procedure created a three dimensional image of the thin section, again I would guess, for the first time.

English language policy in Taiwan has undergone major changes at the beginning of the twenty-first century. The national policy of promoting English and the extension of English-language education at the elementary level has inevitably had a great impact on Taiwan's education system and the status of English in Taiwan (see Chern, 2003; Hung, 2003; Chen, 2006). While the global spread of English has been taking place via national policy and cultural institutions such as schools, a relevant question is how the spread of English is perceived and what responses are made by individuals in Taiwan.

Physical practicum-based learning on collision was been carried out with the aim of knowing the magnitude of the coefficient of restitution of collision of 2 toy balls that are hung on station with a rope by analyzing the conversion of angle of the deviation before and after collision to the magnitutde of velocity. The instruments used in the practicum were“ tek-tek” balls, “ping-pong” balls, clear rubber ball, bow, stationary. Data collection was taken from the 8 practicum groups each of which consists of 4 students in class X IPA 1 of Senior High School 2 Kebumen in the 2nd semester of the school year 2017/2018. Conclusions obtained from data analysis are the conversion of angle of deviation before and after collision to the magnitude of velocity, average collision coefficient; between “tek-ball” was 0.18, “tek-tek” ball with clear rubber ball was 0.26, “tek-tek” ball with “pingpong” ball was 0.64. So that the three collisions include a partially resilient collision which has a range of restitution coefficients 0 ˂ e ˂ 1.Students did the practicum carefully, students had fun learning while playing and collision. This practicum can be done as an alternative to teach the competency on KI-4

This study investigates the effects of increasing the lateral mesh openings in codends on the size and species selectivity of lagoon and river seines and a stow net used to target penaeid prawns (eastern king (Penaeus plebejus), school (Metapenaeus macleayi) and greasyback prawns (M. bennettae)) in Wallis Lake, New South Wales, Australia. Compared with conventional codends made from 36-mm diamond-shaped mesh, new designs made from 25- and 29-mm mesh hung on the bar (i.e. square-shaped mesh) significantly reduced the catches of non-target fish (by between 58 and 95%) and improved size selection for the targeted penaeids in the stow net and lagoon seine. In contrast, owing to gear-specific operational characteristics such as a slower hauling speed, there were few detectable effects of altering mesh openings in the codend of the river seine. The results are discussed in terms of the differences in the gears used and their particular selection mechanisms. We conclude that, pending further trials, codends made from a mesh size approaching 29 mm, hung on the bar, would provide appropriate size- and species-selection for Wallis Lake stow nets and lagoon seines. Further research is required, however, to examine the utility of operational changes to river seines and/or alterations to mesh size and configuration in the wings and body to improve selectivity.

This study aimed to analyze specific English language skills and kind of technical vocabulary that are needed by the third year automotive students of SMKN 2 Kota Bengkulu. The sample for interview comprised of 12 alumni, they were teachers and various company officers who have a MOU with SMKN 2 Kota Bengkulu. In the interview was used saturation sample. The results of interview with alumni indicate that the English skill most needed in the workplace is reading, the second was speaking, the third was writing and the last place was listening. The automotive students/ alumni need to comprehend the technical terms associated with technical terms in English. Related to car, are kick lever, oil pump, water cooling system, trail and rolling roof. Related to heavy machine are rear body offset, over hung, road clearance, light van and rear engine. Related to motorcycle are swing arm, bottom link fork, drum brake and kick starter. General automotive vocabulary are disc brake, gasoline, head lamp, piston and tire. Mastery of technical terms greatly affect the practice of industrial work (prakerin) of students in the work place.

Thermodynamic cycles consist of a sequence of thermodynamic processes involving the transfer of heat and work into and then out of a system. Variables, such as pressure and temperature, eventually return the system to its initial state. During the process of passing through the system, the working fluid converts heat and disposes of any remaining heat, making the cycle act as a heat engine, where heat or thermal energy is converted into mechanical energy. Thermodynamic cycles are an efficient means of producing energy and one of the most well-known examples is a Rankine cycle. From there, scientists have developed the organic Rankine cycle (ORC), which uses fluid with a liquid to vapour phase change that occurs at a lower temperature than the water to steam phase change. Dr Tzu-Chen Hung and Dr Yong-Qiang Feng, who are based at both the Department of Mechanical Engineering, National Taipei University in Taiwan, and the School of Energy and Power Engineering, Jiangsu University in China, are carrying out work that seeks to design and build improved ORC systems which can be used for low-grade heat to power conversion.

Abstract Rotherham, D., Broadhurst, M. K., Gray, C. A., and Johnson, D. D. 2008. Developing a beam trawl for sampling estuarine fish and crustaceans: assessment of a codend cover and effects of different sizes of mesh in the body and codend. – ICES Journal of Marine Science, 65: 687–696. An experiment was carried out in the Clarence River (New South Wales, Australia) to test the hypotheses that fish and crustacean catches in an experimental beam trawl were affected by a codend cover and the sizes of mesh in the body and codend. The cover had no obvious effects on the catches retained in the codend. Similarly, in comparisons between trawl bodies made from 26- and 41-mm diamond-shaped mesh, there were no differences in the assemblages of fish caught, or in the mean numbers entering the codends. For one species of fish (Acanthopagrus australis), however, there were differences in the proportions caught between the trawl bodies across different size classes. There was also some evidence to suggest that mesh size in the body of the trawl influenced the size selection of school prawns (Metapenaeus macleayi). For most finfish, there were no differences in catches between codends made from 20-mm and from 29-mm mesh hung on the bar (i.e. square-shaped mesh). In contrast, mesh size in the codend was important for the size selectivity of school prawns, with smaller carapace lengths at 50% retention in the 20-mm codend. We conclude that use of a 41-mm mesh in the body and a 20-mm square mesh in the codend of the beam trawl would be appropriate for future sampling with this gear in estuaries of New South Wales. A similar experimental approach to ours is needed in adapting the beam trawl to estuaries in other parts of the world, or in developing other types of research trawl.

Indiana U. purchased an electron microscope sight unseen for $600, deciding it was an E.M. on the basis of weight. Seeing Dr. Fischer's ad for an assistant, I wondered what an E.M. was. I dashed upstairs to find his office. Having come directly from the airport where I was a pilot, I was dirty and needed a shave. I planned to come back when I had cleaned up. I put my nose against the door to read his small handwriting and office hours. Out he came. We hung together nose to nose as he asked, “Did you want something?” “Poor time to tell you no,” I responded. I got the job in spite of my appearance because, as he told me, I knew photography, could learn the panel on an airplane and wasn't afraid of work. We put the microscope together and it ran ! We set up a summer lab course, but he asked me to teach it when he got a sabbatical. Having signed up, I gave myself an A. I was starting at the top. I felt there was a great future if we could just learn to cut sections. The chairman warned me not to make it my career as it was only one instrument, could go away and I wouldn't be able to make a living at it. To show him, I quit with my Master's Degree and took a job at the U. of Il. Med. School. I learned to cut sections with a tongue depressor (published) and designed an ultramicrotome (published). He was right. At $300/month, I could barely eat hamburger, but I was showing him.

Teaching and learning - the passing of knowledge from one generation to another - has been in existence from the earliest times of human civilization. It began in 1801, with a large piece of slate hung on the wall in a school in Scotland to provide information to a large audience at one time. In the US by mid-19th century, every class room had a blackboard to teach students. The modern version of the blackboard is either green or brown board. This was introduced in late 1960s. The whiteboards came into use during the late 1980s. Projected aids have been used since 1420. The various devices used are the epidiascope, slide projector, overhead projector for transparencies and the micro projector. An instrument to project images from a horizontal surface onto a vertical screen was invented in the 1870s. By the 1960s, transparencies were in use in classrooms.The ‘Hyalotype’, a transparent image of a photograph using actual black and white photographs on a glass slide that could be projected was invented in 1851. By 1916, the German company Agfa started producing colored lantern slides. The first version of PowerPoint was released by Microsoft in the year 1990.Cell phones, palmtops, and handheld computers; tablets, laptops, and media players are included under mobile learning devices. With the evolution of technology, students achieved competence and interested in interactive learning. The education industry has moved from distance learning to e-learning and finally to m-learning as knowledge expanded exponentially and the demand escalated.While using teaching aids with advanced technology, we must not forget the lessons from the past, striking a balance between embracing new methods of teaching and learning while upholding the timeless principles of education. The newer educational technology can be part of a comprehensive system for lifelong education.

Natural Numbers is one of many Mathematics subjects given in elementary school. One of material that is learned in Natural Numbers is the Numerical Count Operations, Lack of use of teaching aid by the teacher to explain the material Operations to Calculate Natural Numbers makes students not really get what is taught. Therefore, one of the solutions is to conduct training on teaching aidsequilibrium. The purpose of this training is to introduce the concept of equilibrium uses the teaching aid of the scales in the operation of calculating natural numbers in mathematics as it ison equilibrium material in science lessons. This Community service activity use straining methods. It is a training using the teaching aid. This community service that is based on training aimed to grade IIIA and IIB students at MI At Taqwa Rancaekek, Bandung Regency. This activity was done July 31, 2019. On this activity most students already understood the operation of natural numbers is addition, subtraction, multiplication, and equilibrium by using scales. While mistakes that many students did was when students tried the teaching aid, they hung on the beam's position wrong either the right arm or the left armKeywords: teaching aid, scales, natural numbers, equilibrium ABSTRAKBilangan Asli merupakan salah satu materi mata pelajaran Matematika yang diberikan di SD. Salah satu yang dipelajari pada Bilangan Asli adalah Operasi Hitung Bilangan Asli. Kurangnya penggunaan alat peraga untuk menjelaskan materi Operasi Hitung Bilangan Asli membuat siswa mengalami kebingungan. Oleh karena itu, salah satu solusinya adalah mengadakan pelatihan tentang alat peraga timbangan. Tujuan diadakannya pelatihan ini adalah mengenalkan konsep kesetimbangan dengan menggunakan alat peraga timbangan pada operasi hitung bilangan asli di pelajaran matematika sekaligus pada materi kesetimbangan di pelajaran IPA. Kegiatan pengabdian kepada masyarakat ini menggunakan metode pelatihan. Pelatihan yang dimaksud adalah pelatihan dengan menggunakan alat peraga timbangan. Pengabdian kepada masyarakat berbasis pelatihan ini ditujukan kepada siswa kelas IIIA dan IIIB MI At Taqwa Rancaekek, Kabupaten Bandung. Kegiatan ini dilaksanakan pada tanggal 31 Juli 2019. Pada kegiatan ini, sebagian besar siswa sudah memahami operasi bilangan asli yaitu penjumlahan, pengurangan, perkalian, dan kesetimbangan dengan menggunakan alat peraga timbangan. Sedangkan kesalahan atau kekeliruan yang banyak dilakukan siswa adalah pada saat siswa mencoba alat peraga timbangan yaitu kesalahan siswa dalam menggantungkan posisi balok baik di lengan kanan atau lengan kiri.Kata Kunci: alat peraga, timbangan, bilangan asli, kesetimbangan

International Business Research wishes to acknowledge the following individuals for their assistance with peer review of manuscripts for this issue. Their help and contributions in maintaining the quality of the journal are greatly appreciated. International Business Research is recruiting reviewers for the journal. If you are interested in becoming a reviewer, we welcome you to join us. Please find the application form and details at http://www.ccsenet.org/journal/index.php/ibr/editor/recruitment and e-mail the completed application form to ibr@ccsenet.org. Reviewers for Volume 11, Number 11   Alireza Athari, Eastern Mediterranean University, Iran Anca Gabriela Turtureanu, “DANUBIUS” University Galati, Romania Andrea Carosi, University of Sassari, Italy Andrei Buiga, “ARTIFEX University of Bucharest, Romania Anna Paola Micheli, Univrtsity of Cassino and Southern Lazio, Italy Antônio André Cunha Callado, Universidade Federal Rural de Pernmabuco, Brazil Antonio Usai, University of Sassari, Italy Ashford C Chea, Benedict College, USA Bazeet Olayemi Badru, Universiti Utara Malaysia, Nigeria Chokri Kooli, International Center for Basic Research applied, Paris, Canada Duminda Kuruppuarachchi, University of Otago, New Zealand Essia Ries Ahmed, Universiti Sains Malaysia, Malaysia Fevzi Esen, Istanbul Medeniyet University, Turkey Filomena Izzo, University of Campania Luigi Vanvitelli, Italy Francesco Scalera, University of Bari "Aldo Moro", Italy Grzegorz Zasuwa, The John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin, Poland Haldun Şecaattin Çetinarslan, Turkish Naval Forces Command, Turkey Hanna Trojanowska, Warsaw University of Technology, Poland Herald Monis, Milagres College, India Hsiao-Ching Kuo, Washington and Jefferson College, USA Hung-Che Wu, Nanfang College of Sun Yat-sen University, China Ionela-Corina Chersan, “Alexandru Ioan Cuza” University from Iași, Romania Iwona Gorzeń-Mitka, Czestochowa University of Technology, Poland Janusz Wielki, Opole University of Technology, Poland Keshmeer Makun, University o the South Pacific, Fiji Khaled Mokni, Northern Border University, Tunisia L. Leo Franklin, Bharathidasn University, India Luisa Pinto, University of Porto School of Economics, Portugal Mahdi Shadkam, University Technology Malaysia, Malaysia Manuel A. R. da Fonseca, Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ), Brazil Marcelino José Jorge, Evandro Chagas Clinical Research Institute of Oswaldo Cruz Foundation, Brazil Maria Teresa Bianchi, University of Rome “LA SAPIENZA”, Italy Michaela Maria Schaffhauser-Linzatti, University of Vienna, Austria Miriam Jankalová, University of Zilina, Slovakia Miroslav Iordanov Mateev, American University, Dubai, UAE Mithat Turhan, Mersin University, Turkey Mohsen Malekalketab Khiabani, University Technology Malaysia, Malaysia Muath Eleswed, American University of Kuwait, USA Murat Akin, Omer Halisdemir University FEAS – NIGDE, Turkey Ozgur Demirtas, Turkish Air Force Academy, Turkey Radoslav Jankal, University of Zilina, Slovakia Riaz Ahsan, Government College University Faisalabad, Pakistan Roxanne Helm Stevens, Azusa Pacific University, USA Serhii Kozlovskiy, Donetsk National University, Ukraine Shun Mun Helen Wong, The Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Hong Kong Wanmo Koo, Western Illinois University, USA Yasmin Tahira, Al Ain University of Science and Technology, Al Ain, UAE

In this paper, seismic activity characteristics in the East Sea area was analyzed by authors on the base of the unified earthquake catalog (1900-2017), including 131505 events with magnitude 3 ≤ Mw ≤ 8.4. The seismic intensity in the East Sea during the period 1900-2017 is characterized by the earthquake representative level Mw = 4.7. The strong earthquake activity in the East Sea area clearly shows the regularity in each stage. In the period from 1900 to 2017, the East Sea area has four periods of strong earthquake activity, each stage is nearly 30 years with particular characteristics. The distribution of the maximum earthquake quantities by years has a cyclicity in all four periods. In each stage there are 1-2 strong earthquakes with Mmax ≥ 8.0. The strong earthquakes with Mmax ≥ 7.5 have occurred by a repeatable rule of 3-5 years in all four stages. This allows the prediction of the maximum earthquake repeat cycle of Mmax ≥ 7.5 in the study area is 3-5 years. In other hand, the maximum magnitude values for the East Sea region has assessed by GEV method with several different predict periods (20, 40, 60, 80, 100 years), with predicted probability 80%. We concluded that it is possible that earthquake have Mmax = 8.7 will occur in next 100 years.ReferencesBautista C.B., Bautista M.L.P., Oike K., Wu F.T., Punongbayan R.S., 2001. A new insight on the geometry of subducting slabs in northern Luzon, Philippines. Tectonophysics, 339, 279-310.Bui Cong Que, et al., 2010. Seismic and tsunamis hazard in coastal Viet Nam. Natural Science and Technology Publishing House, 311p.Bui Van Duan, Nguyen Cong Thang, Nguyen Van Vuong, Pham Dinh Nguyen, 2013. The magnitude of the largest possible earthquake in the Muong La-Bac Yen fault zone. J. Sci. of the Earth, 35, 53-59 (in Vietnamese).Cao Dinh Trieu, Pham Nam Hung, 2008. Deep-seated fault zone presents the risk of strong earthquakes in the East and South Vietnam Sea. Scientific Report of the First National Conference on Marine Geology, Ha Long, October, 9-10, 491-497.Hsu Ya-Ju, Yu Shui Ben, Song Teh.-Ru Alex, Bacolcol Teresito, 2012. Plate coupling along the Manila subduction zone between Taiwan and northern Luzon. J. Asian Earth Sci., 51, 98-108.http://www.ioc-tsunami.org/index.php?option=com_oe&task=viewDocumentRecord&docID=16478.http://www.jcomm.info/index.php?option=com_oevàtask=viewDocumentRecordvafdocID=16484.Kirby S., Geist E., Lee W.H., Scholl D., Blakely, R., October 2005. 660 Tsunami source characterization for western Pacific subduction 661 zones: a perliminary report. Report, USGS Tsunami Subduction 662 Source Working Group.Le Duc Anh, Nguyen Hoang., Shakirov RB., Tran T.H., 2017. Geochemistry of late miocene-pleistocene basalts in the Phu Quy island area (East Vietnam Sea): Implication for mantle source feature and melt generation, Vietnam J. Earth Sci., 39, 270-288.Le Huy Minh, Frederic Masson, Alain Bourdiilon, Patrick Lassudrie Duchesne, Rolland Fleury, Jyr-ching Hu, Vu Tuan Hung, Le Truong Thanh, Nguyen Chien Thang, Nguyen Ha Thanh, 2014. GPS data continuously in Vietnam and Southeast Asia. J. Sci. of the Earth, 36, 1-13.Le Van De, 1986. Outline of tectonics of the East Vietnam sea and adjacent areas. Proc. 1st Conf. Geol. Indoch., Ho Chi Minh City, 397-404, Hanoi.Ngo T.L., Tran V.P., 2013. Development of a new algorithm for the separation of seismic and anemone groups from the earthquake list to ensure the independence of events. Journal of Marine Science and Technology, Hanoi, 13(3A), 79-85.Nguyen Dinh Xuyen., et al., 2007. Report on the implementation of the task "Earthquake scenarios for tsunamis in the South China Sea". Institute of Meteorology and Hydrology.Nguyen Hong Phuong, 2015. Estimation of seismic hazard parameters for potential tsunami genic sources in the South China Sea region.Nguyen Hong Phuong, 2001. Probabilistic Seismic Hazard Assessment Along the Southeastern Coast of Vietnam, Natural Hazards, 24, 53-74.Nguyen Hong Phuong, 2004. Earthquake risk map of Vietnam and East Sea. J. Sci. of the Earth, 26, 97-111.Nguyen Hong Phuong, Bui Cong Que, 2012. Investigation of earthquake tsunami sources, capable of affecting Vietnamese coast, Nat Hazards, 64, 311-327.Nguyen Hong Phuong, Pham The Truyen, 2014. Probabilistic Seismic Hazard Assessment for the South Central Vietnam. J. Sci. of the Earth, 36, 451-461.Nguyen Hong Phuong, Pham The Truyen, Nguyen Ta Nam, 2017. Probabilistic Seismic Hazard Assessment for the Tranh River hydropower plant No2 site, Quang nam province, Vietnam J. Earth Sci., 38(2), 188-201.Nguyen Van Luong, Bui Cong Que, Nguyen Van Duong, 2008. Tectonic stresses and modern movements in the crust of the Earth in the East Sea area, Journal of Marine Science and Technology, 46-52.Nguyen Van Luong, Duong Quoc Hung, Bui Thi Thanh and Tong Duy Cuong, 2003. Characteristics of fault systems in the East Sea area. J. Sci. of the Earth., 25, 1-8 (in Vietnamese).Nguyen Van Luong, et al., 2002. Result of establishment of the list of earthquake dynamics in the East Sea area, studies on geology and marine geophysics, VII, Hanoi.Nguyen Van Luong, et al., 2008. Tectonic seismic and geodynamic features of the South China Sea, Proceedings of the 1st National Conference on Marine Geology and Sustainable Development, 9-10, Ha Long, 498-509.Pham Van Thuc and Nguyen Thi Kim Thanh, 2004. Earthquake zone in the South China Sea and coastal areas. Journal of Geology, A series, 285, 11-12.Pham Van Thuc, 2001, Characteristics of tsunamis in the East Sea region of Vietnam. TC and CNN, TI, 2, 52-64.Phan Trong Trinh, Ngo Van Liem, Vy Quoc Hai, John Beavan, Nguyen Van Huong, Hoang Quang Vinh, Bui Van Thom, Nguyen Quang Xuyen, Nguyen Dang Tuc, Dinh Van Thuan, Nguyen Trong Tan, Nguyen Viet Thuan, Le Huy Minh, Bui Thi Thao. Nguyen Huy Thinh, Dinh Van The, Le Minh Tung, Tran Quoc Hung, Nguyen Viet Tien, 2010b. Modern tectonic movement in the East Sea and surrounding areas. Journal of Geology. Series A, 320, 9-10, Hanoi.Phan Trong Trinh, 2006. The Tsunami and December 26, 2004 in the Indian Ocean: A Warning to Vietnam. Journal of Geology, Series A, 293, Hanoi.Phan Trong Trinh, et al., 2010a. Research on the tectonic activity, modern tectonics and geodynamics of the South China Sea as a scientific basis for forecasting the types of catastrophe involved and proposed solutions prevent. KC.09.11/06-10. Institute of Geology, 446p.Phan Trong Trinh, Nguyen Van Huong, Ngo Van Liem, Tran Dinh To, Vy Quoc Hai, Hoang Quang Vinh, Bui Van Thom, Nguyen Quang Xuyen, Nguyen Viet Thuan, Bui Thi Thao, 2011. Geological and geological hazards in Vietnam's sea and nearby. J. Sci. of the Earth, 33, 443-456.Pisarenko V.F., Sornette A., Sornette D. and Rodkin M.V, 2008. New approach to the Characterization of Mmax and of the Tail of the Distribution of Earthquake Magnitudes. Pure and Applied Geophysics, 165, 847-888.Pisarenko V.F, Sornette D. and Rodkin M.V., 2010. Distribution of maximum Earthquake magnitudes in future time intervals: application to the seismicity of Japan (1923-2007). EPS (Earth, Planets and Space), 62, 567-578.Pisarenko V.F., Rodkin M.V, and Rukavishnikova T.A., 2014. Estimation of the Probability of Strongest Seismic Disasters Based on the Extreme Value Theory. Physics of the Solid Earth, 50(3), 311-324.Pisarenko V.F., Rodkin M.V. and et al., 2012. New general quantile approach to the seismic rick assessment application to the Vietnam region. //Proceedings of the International Conference on "Geophysics - Cooperation and Sustainable Development." Science and Technology Publishing House. Hanoi, 161-167.Vu Thanh Ca, 2008. Report on the project to build a map of tsunami warning for coastal areas of Vietnam. Institute of Hydrometeorology and Environment - Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment.Yingchun Liu, Angela Santos, Shuo M. Wang, Yaolin Sh, Hailing Liu, David A. Yuen, 2007. Tsunami hazards along Chinese coast from potential earthquakes in the South China Sea. Phys. Earth Planet. Interiors, 163, 233-244.Zhiguo Xu, 2015. Seismicity and Focal mechanisms in the South China Sea Region and its Tectonic Significances.

The achievement of children's quality of life is undoubtedly linked to the development of positive habits that will continue to be practiced in future lives. This can be done by developing awareness and behavior of a balanced clean and healthy lifestyle. The purpose of this study was to determine the increase in the PHBS ability of children. Various efforts have been made so that children with intellectual disabilities can maintain their cleanliness. The efforts made by the teacher are still not maximal so that the delivery of information about PHBS must be completed by another method, namely demonstration. This research was conducted at SDLB 127710 Pematangsiantar5 with an action research method that refers to the Kurt Lewin model. Data collection techniques used purposive sampling and data analysis with the Wilcoxon test. The results showed an increase in understanding of the PHBS of children with intellectual disabilities able to learn SDLB 127710 Pematangsiantar through the demonstration method. This is evidenced by the increase in the score, where the initial assessment was obtained (59%), while in the first cycle, the average score was good (69.9%). In short, the understanding of children with intellectual disabilities being able to learn about PHBS is increased by using the demonstration method. Keywords: Intellectual Disability Children, PHBS program, Demonstration methods References Agarwal, R. (2017). Importancia de la atención primaria de salud en la sociedad. International Journal of Health Sciences, 1(1), 5–9. Aiello, A. E., Coulborn, R. M., Perez, V., & Larson, E. L. (2008). Effect of hand hygiene on infectious disease risk in the community setting: A meta-analysis. American Journal of Public Health, 98(8), 1372–1381. https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2007.124610 Arip, M. pdfo., & Emilyani, D. (2018). Strategy to improve knowledge, attitude, and skill toward clean and healthy life behaviour. International Journal of Social Sciences and Humanities, 2(3), 125–135. https://doi.org/10.29332/ijssh.v2n3.222 Basheer, A., Hugerat, M., Kortam, N., & Hofstein, A. (2017). The effectiveness of teachers’ use of demonstrations for enhancing students’ understanding of and attitudes to learning the oxidation-reduction concept. Eurasia Journal of Mathematics, Science and Technology Education, 13(3), 555–570. https://doi.org/10.12973/eurasia.2017.00632a Bloomfield, S. F., Aiello, A. E., Cookson, B., O’Boyle, C., & Larson, E. L. (2007). The effectiveness of hand hygiene procedures in reducing the risks of infections in home and community settings including handwashing and alcohol-based hand sanitizers. American Journal of Infection Control, 35(10 SUPPL. 1). https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ajic.2007.07.001 Cavanaugh, L. K. (n.d.). Intellectual Disabilities (D. L. Porretta (Ed.); 6 th). Human Kinetics. Chang, Y. J., Lee, M. Y., Chou, L. Der, Chen, S. F., & Chen, Y. C. (2011). A Mobile Wetness Detection System Enabling Teachers to Toilet Train Children with Intellectual Disabilities in a Public School Setting. Journal of Developmental and Physical Disabilities, 23(6), 527–533. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10882-011-9243-3 Cummings, S., Bridgman, T., & Brown, K. G. (2016). Unfreezing change as three steps: Rethinking Kurt Lewin’s legacy for change management. Human Relations, 69(1), 33–60. https://doi.org/10.1177/0018726715577707 Dirjen P2P Kemkes RI. (2019). Rencana Aksi Program Pencegahan Dan Pengendalian Penyakit 2015-2019 ( Revisi I - 2018 ). Rencana AKSI Program P2P 2015-2019, 2019, 86. Flanagan, D. P., Alfonso, V. C., & Hale, J. B. (2010). The Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children - Fourth Edition in Neuropsychological Practice. Handbook of Pediatric Neuropsychology, January, 397–414. Giridharan, K., & Raju, R. (2017). Impact of Teaching Strategies: Demonstration and Lecture Strategies and Impact of Teacher Effect on Academic Achievement in Engineering Education. International Journal of Educational Sciences, 14(3), 174–186. https://doi.org/10.1080/09751122.2016.11890491 Hooman, N., Safaii, A., Valavi, E., & Amini-Alavijeh, Z. (2013). Toilet training in Iranian children: A cross-sectional study. Iranian Journal of Pediatrics, 23(2), 154–158. Hung, J.-W., Chang, Y.-J., & Han, W.-Y. (2016). Game technology to increase range of motion for adolescents with cerebral palsy: a feasibility study. International Journal on Disability and Human Development, 16(3). https://doi.org/10.1515/ijdhd-2016-0026 Kang, Y. S., & Chang, Y. J. (2019). Using a motion-controlled game to teach four elementary school children with intellectual disabilities to improve hand hygiene. Journal of Applied Research in Intellectual Disabilities, 32(4), 942–951. https://doi.org/10.1111/jar.12587 Kementerian, & Indonesia, R. (2011). Profil Kesehatan Indonesia. Kemenenterian Kesehatan RI. Kesehatan, K. (2011). PHBS di Sekolah. Kementerian Kesehatan Republik Indonesia. Ketut Sudiana, I., Adiputra, N., & Budi Adnyana, P. (2020). Integrative Health Thematic Strategy Increases Learning Outcomes and Students ’Clean and Healthy Living Behaviors. Journal of Physics: Conference Series, 1503(1). https://doi.org/10.1088/1742-6596/1503/1/012050 Koh, W. M., Bogich, T., Siegel, K., Jin, J., Chong, E. Y., Tan, C. Y., Chen, M. I. C., Horby, P., & Cook, A. R. (2016). The epidemiology of hand, foot and mouth disease in Asia: A systematic review and analysis. Pediatric Infectious Disease Journal, 35(10), e285–e300. https://doi.org/10.1097/INF.0000000000001242 Kroeger, K., & Sorensen, R. (2010). A parent training model for toilet training children with autism. Journal of Intellectual Disability Research, 54(6), 556–567. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2788.2010.01286.x Laporan Akuntabilitas Kinerja Kementerian Kesehatan tahun 2014. (n.d.). Lee, R. L. T., & Lee, P. H. (2014). To evaluate the effects of a simplified hand washing improvement program in schoolchildren with mild intellectual disability: A pilot study. Research in Developmental Disabilities, 35(11), 3014–3025. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ridd.2014.07.016 Lee, R. L. T., Leung, C., Tong, W. K., Chen, H., & Lee, P. H. (2015). Comparative efficacy of a simplified handwashing program for improvement in hand hygiene and reduction of school absenteeism among children with intellectual disability. American Journal of Infection Control, 43(9), 907–912. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ajic.2015.03.023 Levato, L. E., Aponte, C. A., Wilkins, J., Travis, R., Aiello, R., Zanibbi, K., Loring, W. A., Butter, E., Smith, T., & Mruzek, D. W. (2016). Use of urine alarms in toilet training children with intellectual and developmental disabilities: A review. Research in Developmental Disabilities, 53–54, 232–241. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ridd.2016.02.007 Noah Ekeyi, D. (2013). Effect of Demonstration Method of Teaching on Students’ Achievement in Agricultural Science. World Journal of Education, 3(6), 1–7. https://doi.org/10.5430/wje.v3n6p1 Pedoman Umum Program Indonesia Sehat dengan Pendekatan Keluarga. (2015). Kementerian Kesehatan Republik Indonesia. Purba, N., Handini, M. C. H., & Yetti, E. (2018). Development of Media Vocabulary Cards to Improve the Speech Competence of Children with Intellectual Disabilities. 6. Puspita, W. A., Sulistyorini, M. P., & Wibowo, B. (2020). Learning Clean, Healthy and Safe Life Behavior in Inclusive Early Childhood Education. 454(Ecep 2019), 270–274. https://doi.org/10.2991/assehr.k.200808.053 Putri, R. M., Rosdiana, Y., & Nisa, A. C. (2019). Application of Clean and Healthy Living Behavior (PHBS) From The Household Knowledge and Attitude Study. Journal Of Nursing Practice, 3(1), 39–49. https://doi.org/10.30994/jnp.v3i1.64 Rosenberg, N. E., Schwartz, I. S., & Davis, C. A. (2010). Evaluating the utility of commercial videotapes for teaching hand washing to children with autism. Education and Treatment of Children, 33(3), 443–455. https://doi.org/10.1353/etc.0.0098 Ruan, F., Yang, T., Ma, H., Jin, Y., Song, S., Fontaine, R. E., & Zhu, B. P. (2011). Risk factors for hand, foot, and mouth disease and herpangina and the preventive effect of hand-washing. Pediatrics, 127(4). https://doi.org/10.1542/peds.2010-1497 Shen, K., Yang, Y., Wang, T., Zhao, D., Jiang, Y., Jin, R., Zheng, Y., Xu, B., Xie, Z., Lin, L., Shang, Y., Lu, X., Shu, S., Bai, Y., Deng, J., Lu, M., Ye, L., Wang, X., Wang, Y., & Gao, L. (2020). Diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of 2019 novel coronavirus infection in children: experts’ consensus statement. World Journal of Pediatrics, 16(3), 223–231. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12519-020-00343-7 Steenkamp, L., Williams, M., Ronaasen, J., Feeley, A., Truter, I., & Melariri, P. (2020). Handwashing knowledge and practices among caregivers of pre-school children in underprivileged areas of Nelson Mandela Bay. South African Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 0(0), 1–5. https://doi.org/10.1080/16070658.2020.1769336 van Nunen, K., Kaerts, N., Wyndaele, J. J., Vermandel, A., & van Hal, G. V. (2015). Parents’ views on toilet training (TT): A quantitative study to identify the beliefs and attitudes of parents concerning TT. Journal of Child Health Care, 19(2), 265–274. https://doi.org/10.1177/1367493513508232 Walpole, R. E. (1955). Pengantar Statistika. Gramedia.

AbstractThe closeness of a work from Rubens' studio in the English Royal Collection, known as Equestrian Portrait of a Knight of the Golden Fleece (Fig. I, Note 1), to two equestrian portraits painted by Van Dyck during his stay in Genoa, from 1621 to 1626 (Figs. 2, 3, Note 2) has led to the identification of the sitter. A number of other pictures from the circle of Rubens and Van Dyck show horses and/or riders in related poses and the dates on some of them reveal them to have been painted before Van Dyck's portraits. This applies to The Riding School by or after Rubens, which is generally dated 1610-12 (Fig. 4, Note 3), a Paradise Landscape by Jan Brueghel of 1613 (Note 4) and Sight dated 1617 by the same artist (Fig.5, Note 5), which features a horseman known as Archduke Albert. A number of undated paintings inspired by the same model include six supposed to be of Archduke Albert (Notes 6, 10), three by Casper de Crayer (Fig. 6, Note 13) and eguestrian portraits of Louis XIII (Note 14) and Ladislaw IV of Poland. Thus it seems likely that these followers of Rubens', Van Dyck included, based themselves on one and the same equestrian portrait by their teacher. Since Van Dyck almost certainly painted the two equestrian portraits in Genoa during his stay in that city, his model or a replica of it must also have been there between 1621 and 1626. In fact, probably at the request of his patrons (Note 17), he often used models by Rubens, who had worked in Genoa for a time in 1606 (Note 16). However, his two equestrian portraits are not based on the only Genoese one by Rubens now known, that of the Marchese Doria (Fig. 7, Note 18), which is very different and has a liveliness quite, unlike Van Dyck's quiet static compositions. The equestrian portrait in the English Royal Collection was bought by George I in 1723 as a Rubens. The sitter is clad in the Spanish costume of the early 17 th century while the towers in the background could be those of Antwerp (Note 36). The sitter has been identified as the Archduke Albert, but he actually bears no resemblance to other portraits of the Archduke, who was also much older than this at the time of Ruberas' stay in Genoa in 1606. The most likely candidate is Ambrogio Spinola (Note 32) , the statesman and general, of whom both Rubens and Van Dyck painted more than one portrait. Spinola was commander of the Spanish troups in the Southern Netherlands, a friend of Rubens and Knight of the Golden Fleece, and he also came from Genoa, where this portrait could have been painted during a visit he made to the city in 1606 (Notes 33, 34). Stylistically too the portrait seems to fit in with the series of portraits painted by Rubens in Genoa in that year. The physiognomy of the sitter is certainly close to that of the known portraits of Spinola (Figs. 8-1, Note 35), while the details of Spinola's life also support the identification. Spinola (1569-1630), who was Marquis of Sesto and Venafro, belonged to one of the group of closely related, families of bankers who held key positions in Genoa. He arrived in the Netherlands around 1602 at the head of a large and unusually well-trained body of troops. In 1603 he provided funds to prevent a mutiny among the Spanish troups and after his capture of Ostend in 1604 he was appointed second in command to Archduke Albert. He was made a Knight of the Golden Fleece on I March 1605 and in the same year he was put in charge of military finances. From 1606 until his departure for Spain in 1628 he was superintendent of the military treasury and' mayordomo mayor' to the Archdukes Albert and Isabella. After the death of Albert in 1621 he became principal adviser to Isabella and thus the most powerful man in the Spanish Netherlands. His amiable character brought him many friends, even among the ranks of the enemy, notably the Princes Maurice and Frederick Henry, with whom he had a great deal of contact during the Twelve Years Truce. It was probably one of them who bought the Portrait of Spinola by Van Miereveld (Fig. 8). After a disappointing mission to Spain in 1628, Spinola was relieved of his command of the Army of Flanders and put in charge of the Spanish troups in Lombardy. He died in his castle in Piedmont in 1630. During the years 1603-5 and later Spinola made several visits to Madrid, where he will undoubtedly have met the powerful Duke of Lerma and probably also seen the equestrian portrait that Rubens painted of him in 1603 (Fig. 12, Note 39). He must also have known of the portraits Rubens painted in Genoa in 1606, since at least three and probably five of them are of members of the Spinola family, while there survives a letter to Rubens from Paolo Agostino Spinola on the subject of portraits (Note 40). All this makes it likely that Spinola would have had his own Portrait painted too and that Rubens may well have painted his first portrait of the man who was to become his lifelong friend as early as 1606. Although Rubens was sometimes irritated by Spinola's lack of interest in his work (Note 41) , he admired him greatly (Note 42). He cultivated Spinola's friendship after his return to Antwerp in 1608 and will doubtless have introduced Van Dyck to him. Van Dyck later painted more than twenty pictures for the five Spinola palaces (Note 43) in Genoa and his work also became known in Madrid via Spinola and his son-in-law Don Diego Felipez Messia Guzman de Legañes, who owned many works by Van Dyck (Note 44). The presumed equestrian portrait of Spinola was much copied, as were other portraits of him by Rubens. Spinola was admired all over Europe and that may have been why other commanders and princes wanted to have themselves portrayed in the same way. The original or a replica may have hung in Spirtola's palace in Brussels, where the first to have seen it would have been Archduke Albert, which may explain the many equestrian portraits of him by Rubens' followeers which were based on it. Another possibility is that Rubens himself may have painted an equestrian portrait of the Archduke very similar to that of Spinola around 1610, but that this is no longer known. Caspar de Crayer of Brussels, a friend, though not a pupil of Rubens, was also influenced by the Spinola equestrian portrait. Furthermore, when he was invited to paint a set of equestrian portraits for the Huis ten Bosch, he sent the young Antwerp painter Thomas Willeboirts Bosschaert to The Hague in his place (Note 46) and it was in this way that Rubens' model came to the Northern Netherlands, where it was copied only once, by Isaac Isacsz. in his equestrian portrait of William the Silent (Note 47). The equestrian portrait of Sigmund III of Poland (Fig. 13), a cousin of Archduke Albert, could also have been painted in Van Dyck's studio in Genoa, which was probably visited by his son Prince Ladislaw in 1624 (Note 48). This picture too still owes much to Rubens' model which Van Dyck used again ten years later for his equestrian portraits of Charles I of England (Fig. 14, Note, 50) and Francisco de Moncada (Note 51).

Objective: To describe the current status of anxiety among students in 3 secondary schools, Khoai Chau district, Hung Yen province in 2020.Subjects and Methods: a cross-sectional descriptive study was conducted on 840 students from 3 secondary schools in Khoai Chau district, Hung Yen province. Research period was from March2020 to October 2020.Results: The rate of general anxiety accounted for 9.5%, mild anxiety accounted for 7.1% of the total number of students surveyed. The anxiety rate among male students (9.2%) was lower than that offemale students (9.8%). Among students with anxiety: mild anxiety accounted for the highest rate (75%). Class VIII students had the highest rate of anxiety (15.9%), followed by Class VII students(10.7%), Class IX students (5.9%), Class VI students (5.5%). Rate of mild anxiety in students: Class VIII students (12.1%), Class VII students (7.5%), Class VI students (4.5%), Class IX students (4.1%).Conclusion: The rate of anxiety among secondary school students was quite high, but mostly mild anxiety. The rate of anxiety among male students was lower than that of female students.

Objective: The study was conducted to evaluate the knowledge and practice about injury prevention of thestudents in 4 secondary schools in Dong Hung District, Thai Binh Province in 2015Methodology: Descriptive 1008 secondary school studentsResults: There was low proportion of school students did not know the ways of preventing traffic accidentswhen walking (4.9%) and cycling (2.4%). Most of these children were able be prevent falls: did not go running,chasing spot slippery moss accounted for 67.9%; followed by not climbing on high trees, accounting for 62.9%;did not play near the plant under construction accounting for 59.4%; non-slip climbing stairs, railingsaccounting for 59.4%. Only 4.8% of students did not know the measures to prevent food poisoning. 4.4% ofstudents did not know the measures to prevent drowning. The percentage of students with improper behavior inpreventing traffic accidents was quite high: waving hand when you want to across the road (representing64.1%); with 23.2% of students cycling line 2, line 3 in the last 1 month; 9.1% of students did not wear ahelmet while sitting on a motorcycle. 34.5% of students still ran, chased each other in areas with slippery moss;19.2% of students were climbing high gates, tall trees; 12.7% of students climbed chairs, swung doors in thelast 1 month. In the last 1 month 38.9% of students still ate food of unknown origins; 10.9% of students left foodmixed with other chemicals; 8.7% of students used food, drinks that changed color and expiredConclusion: Highly rate of students do not have the knowledge and skills to practice injury prevention. It isnecessary to promote the propagation, education and training of these skills so that children developcomprehensively both physically and mentally

This study was conducted in the context of an increasing number of reported cases of bullying, school violence, and juvenile crimes in Vietnam. Aggressive behaviors were associated with school violence. The objective of this study was to assess four types of aggression expressed simultaneously by form and function in high school students. A cross-sectional study consisted of 644 high school students in Hanoi and Hung Yen province. Peer Conflict Scale was used. The results showed that 99.4% of students reported aggressive behavior, with 30.4% reporting "often" and 20.8% reporting "always" doing at least one aggressive behavior. Reactive-overt aggression was reported the most. Proactive – overt aggression was reported the least. Unlike many previous studies, female students exhibited a higher level of aggression than male students. Positive correlation was found among 4 types of agreesion. Logistic regression analysis showed that one type of agreesion could predict the others Research findings are useful developing classroom management plans and psychological support for students.

Where else can educational research begin and end, if not with the body of the researcher, if not with the particular material/ corporeal/ affective assemblages that this body is and has been part of? This paper traces the mutual constitution of bodies, identities and landscapes through memory as the body of this educator travels through multiple scenes of geo-spatial-temporal movement, and down the east coast of Australia. This movement parallels the movement from being a school teacher to becoming an academic. Throughout the paper landscape is foregrounded, and the body in landscape is evoked through poetic and literary modes of writing around the themes of learning and losing. The body in landscape is not merely the body of the writer. Other bodies in the landscape include ‘the curve of the snake’ - the row of protective hills that were said to protect her tropical home from cyclones – and the ‘scene of the crocodile’ – the rock that hung over the valley she passed on her way to school that she had learned of from Indigenous teachers. The political and ethical consequences of memory work, of body and place writing, and of genres of writing in educational research, are also considered. The paper argues for an embodied and reflexive literacy of place that incorporates multiple modes of knowing, being and writing.

English is one of the most vital and necessary tools for people’s successes in many aspects of life. Therefore, building good ways to develop English skills in students is an urgent demand. Organizing English-Vietnamese bilingual lesson is interpreted as educational method in which a foreign language enrichment measure packaged into content teaching, so it is one of the effective ways to improve this skill for students. By investigating 457 students and 27 high school biology teachers in An Giang province, the study pointed out two issues of the reality of using English in biology teaching in high schools: (1) Teachers have rarely used English in teaching activities, (2) Students’ English ability has been really weak. The study has built up the processes of organizing an English-Vietnamese bilingual lesson. The paper demonstrated that high school students’ English ability and qualification has been improved by using these proposed processes. Keywords Bilingual biology lessons, bilingual teaching, English ability, biology teaching References Dinh Quang Bao & Nguyen Duc Thanh (1998). Theories of biology teaching. Vietnam Education Publishing House (in Vietnamese).Bonces, J. R., 2012. Content and language integrated learning (CLIL): Considerations in the Colombian context. Gist Education and Learning Research Journal, 6, 177-189.Dalton-Puffer, C., 2011. Content-and-language integrated learning: From practice to principles? Annual Review of Applied Linguistics, Cambridge University Press, 31, 182–204.Dong Hai Nguyen, 2013. Bilingual education in Vietnam: Successes and challenges. Cambrigde Educational Leadership Seminar, Ho Chi Minh city. Retrieved from ttp://www.cambridgeassessment.org.uk/images/137032-dr-dong-hai-nguyen-presentation-slides-.pdfPhan Duc Duy, 1999. Trainning biology teaching skills for students based on studying pedagogy cases. Doctor thesis, Hanoi National University of Education, Hanoi, Vietnam, 34-57 (in Vietnamese).Hadisantosa, N., Huong, T. T. T., Johnstone, R., Keyuravong, S., & Lee, W., 2010. Learning through English: Policies, challenges and prospects (Insight from East Asia). Malaysia: British Council.Nguyen Van Hien, 2009. Developing the skills of applying information technology in organizing biology lessons in students. Doctor thesis, Hanoi National University of Education, Hanoi, Vietnam, 62-65 (in Vietnamese).Tran Trung Hieu, 2017. Organizing English-Vietnamese bilingual lessons in biology teaching in high school. Teacher of Vietnam Scientific Magazine, 123, 37-39 (in Vietnamese).Dao Thi Hoang Hoa, 2014. Teaching Chemistry through the medium of English using content and language integrated learning approach. Journal of Science, Ho Chi Minh city University of Education, 54 (in Vietnamese).Tran Ba Hoanh, 1993. Techniques of biology teaching. Vietnam Education Publishing House (in Vietnamese).Nguyen Tan Hung, 2010. Dual language instruction – The best way for the improvement of professional knowledge and foreign language competence. Journal of Science and Technology, Da Nang University, 2(37), 192-197 (in Vietnamese).Nha, T. T. V., & Burn, A., 2014. English as a medium of instruction: Challenges for Vietnamese tertiary lecturers. The journal of Asia TEFL, 11(3), 1-31.Thuong Nguyen, 2017. Vietnam national foreign language 2020 project after 9 years: A difficult stage. The Asian Conference on Education & International Development 2017, National Chengchi University, Taiwan.

Education assessment capacity is considered to be indispensable for teachers at all levels. However, there are currently many difficulties in assessing this capacity, especially for primary teachers when there is a change in assessing students. In this report, we would like to suggest a education capacity assessment structure for primary teachers and to demonstrate such structure through a survey of primary teachers' assessment capacity in Vietnam. Survey results show that the education assessment capacity structure consists of 6 component competencies which suitable for primary teachers in Vietnam. And, the report also points out that Vietnamese primary teachers' education assessment capacity in Vietnam is currently evaluated at a fairly good level. Keywords Education assessment capacity structure, primary teachers References 1. American Federation of Teachers & National Council on Measurement in Education (1990), Standards for Teacher Competence in Educational Assessment of Students, Washington DC.2. Dinh Quang Bao (2017), Fostering teachers to meet professional standards in the context of general education renovation, The summary record of a scientific conference: Rationale and practice of the professional capacity of teachers and educational administrators in the Northwest, Page 75-84.3. Ministry of Education and Training (2007), Professional standards for primary teachers, issued together with Decision No. 14/2007/QD-BGD dated 04 May 2007.4. Ministry of Education and Training (2010), Charter of primary schools, issued together with Circular No. 41/2010/TT-BGDDT dated 30 December 2010.5. Ministry of Education and Training (2016), Amending and supplementing some articles of the Regulations on the assessment of primary students, issued with Circular No. 22/2016/TT-BGDDT, dated 22 September 2016. 6. Canada Education Assosciation Joint Advisory Committee (1993), Principles for Fair Student Assessment Practices for Education in Canada, Edmonton, Alberta: Emonton.7. Nguyen Duc Chinh (2017), How do principals do to successfully lead teachers to develop student competencies, The summary record of a scientific conference: Rationale and practice of the professional capacity of teachers and educational administrators in the Northwest, Page 20-28.8. Nguyen Huu Chau (2008), Educational quality- Theoretical and practical issues, Vietnam Education Publishing House Limited Company.9. Bui Van Hue (1997), Primary psychology textbook, Vietnam Education Publishing House Limited Company, 1997, Page 33-91.10. Tran Thi Huong, Cao Xuan Hung (2017), Student assessment capacity building activities for primary teachers in District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Ho Chi Minh City University of Education, Journal of Science , Volume 14, No. 10 (2017), Page 63-71.11. Nguyen Cong Khanh (2015), Student assessment based on the capacity-based approach. The summary record of an international conference: “Psychology and Pedagogy in the development of human beings in Vietnam”. University of Education Publishing House, Page 688-695.12. Nguyen Cong Khanh, Nguyen Vu Bich Hien (2013), Proposing the education assessment capacity framework for high school teachers, The summary record of READ conference, Hanoi.13. Nguyen Thi My Loc (2003), 21st century teachers: Being creative and effective, Journal of Teaching and Learning Today (7), Hanoi.14. Duong Thu Mai (2012), Studying and suggesting of a common capacity framework for the education assessment, The summary record of READ conference, Hanoi.15. Duong Thu Mai (2016), Forms of assessing modern education and methods of assessing the learning capacity of high school students in Vietnam, VNU Journal of Science: Educational research, Volume 32, No. 1 (2016) Page 51-61.16. Pham Duc Quang (2012), Some core components in the general education programs are built based on the competency building orientations, The summary record of a conference: The general core competency system of students for general education programs in Vietnam, Hanoi, Page 36- 49.17. Pham Hong Quang (2013), Development of teacher training programs, theoretical and practical issues, Thai Nguyen Publishing House.18. Nguyen Kim Son, Le Ngoc Hung, Nguyen Quy Thanh, Ta Thi Thu Hien, Pham Van Thuan, Duong Thi Hoang Yen (2018), Education Renovation in Vietnam: From the perspective of teachers, The summary record of an international conference: New trends in education, Page 42-57.19. Stronge, J. H. (2004), Qualities Of Effective Teacher, Le Van Canh translate, Vietnam Education Publishing House.20. Hoang Thi Tuyet (2004), Training of the education assessment capacity: A practical perspective, The summary record of a conference: The role of inspection and assessment activities in the renovation of education in Vietnam, Page 96-103.

MacGregor, Roy. The Highest Number in the World. Illus. G. Despres. Toronto: Tundra Books, 2014. Print.It shouldn’t surprise you that Roy MacGregor writes a good children’s book about hockey especially if you read the Globe and Mail where he is a sports writer. Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of professional sport with little interest in stats, trades, and game results. However, Roy MacGregor always finds an interesting twist to set his stories apart.So it is with this book. On first glance, it seems to be about a hockey-prodigy; a 9-year-old girl idolizing a famous Canadian female hockey player so much she would give up playing because she has to wear #9 on her new team (not the #22 of her idol). How predictable and boring is that? BUT… her grandma sets her straight on why #9 is actually a better number to live “up” to (incidentally, “highest” in the title refers to height).The illustrations are fantastic - filled with witty references to the life of a Canadian, 9-year-old, hockey-loving girl such as drawings hung with hockey tape, embarrassing Velcro skates with toe-picks, sock-monkeys, and many more.A small quibble is the passive voice used in the first few pages; while chronologically correct, it detracts from the opening action just a little. Then again, hockey games themselves usually build up in intensity and excitement. The main reason for loving this book is the use of history to change perceptions. In a world so concerned with the desires of now, this book reminds us that the present is intimately shaped by the past (even if we don’t quite yet know how). Highly recommended: 4 stars out of 4Reviewer: David SulzDavid is a Public Services Librarian at University of Alberta and liaison librarian to Economics, Religious Studies, and Social Work. He has university studies in Library Studies, History, Elementary Education, Japanese, and Economics; he formerly taught in schools and museums. His interests include physical activity, music, home improvements, and above all, things Japanese.

Competence frameworks are the trend for human resource management in a dynamic environment. In Vietnam’s dynamic environment, the hotel industry is witnessing fast changes to adapt to the development of the Vietnamese economy. This requires a new model for human resource management in the hotel industry, in particular for middle managers. In this research, the author used a quantitative method to analyze the requirements for competence for middle managers in the hotel industry and has proposed a capability framework, including three main clusters: Professional competence, Executive and management Competence and Self-management competence - for middle managers in the Vietnamese hotel industry. Keywords Competence, middle manager competence, hotel industry References [1] J.B. Barney, P.M. Wright, “On becoming a strategic partner: The role of human resources in gaining competitive advantage”, Human Resource Management. 37 (1998) 31-46.[2] A.J. Nyberg, T.P. Moliterno, D. Hale Jr, D.P. Lepak, “Resource-based perspectives on unit-level human capital: A review and integration”, Journal of Management. 40 (2014) 316-346.[3] H. Jeou-Shyan, H. Hsuan, L. Chih-Hsing, L. Lin, T. Chang-Yen, “Competency analysis of top managers in the Taiwanese hotel industry”, International Journal of Hospitality Management. 30 (2011) 1044-1054. [4] K. Birdir, T.E. Pearson, “Research chefs’ competencies: A Delphi approach”, International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management. 12 (2000) 205-209. [5] L.M. Spencer, P.S.M. Spencer, Competence at Work models for superior performance: John Wiley & Sons, 2008.[6] F. Delamare Le Deist, J. Winterton, “What is competence”, Human Resourse Development International. 8 (2005) 27-46.[7] M.T. Brannick, E.L. Levine, F.P. Morgeson, Job and work analysis: Methods, research, and applications for human resource management: Sage, 2007.[8] J. Balogun, G. Johnson, “Organizational restructuring and middle manager sensemaking”, Academy of Management Journal. 47 (2004) 523-549. [9] Q.N. Huy, “In praise of middle managers”, Harvard Business Review. 79 (2001) 72-79.[10] N. Harding, H. Lee, J. Ford, “Who is “the middle manager”?”, Human relations. 67 (2014) 1213-1237. [11] D. Glover, D. Gleeson, G. Gough, M. Johnson, “The meaning of management: the development needs of middle managers in secondary schools”, Educational Management & Administration. 26 (1998) 279-292. [12] V. Siu, “Managing by competencies - A study on the managerial competencies of hotel middle managers in Hong Kong”, International Journal of Hospitality Management. 17 (1998) 253-273. [13] G. McCarthy, J.J. Fitzpatrick, “Development of a competency framework for nurse managers in Ireland”, The Journal of Continuing Education in Nursing. 40 (2009) 346-350.[14] S. Suh, J.J. West, J. Shin, “Important competency requirements for managers in the hospitality industry”, Journal of Hospitality, Leisure, Sport & Tourism Education. 11 (2012) 101-112. [15] Do Vu Phuong Anh, Khung nang luc nha quan ly cap trung trong doanh nghiep khu vuc kinh te tu nhan Vietnam, Ha Noi: DHQGHN, 2017.[16] Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, “Research on Human Resource Demand for Tourism Industry for Training Tourism Employees in the Period 2025-2030”, 2017.[17] B.G. Chung-Herrera, C.A. Enz, M.J. Lankau, “A Competencies Model Grooming Future Hospitality Leaders”, Cornell Hotel and Restaurant Administration Quarterly. 44 (2003) 17-25.[18] Mai Thanh Lan, Ta Huy Hung, “The leadership competency in Vietnam public administration, Organizations and markets in emerging economies”. 9 (2019) 1-8.[19] Nguyen Hong Tin, Vo Thị Thanh Loc, Nguyen Quang Tuyen, Vo Kim Thoa, Vo Thành Danh, “Evaluate the current competence for leader and servant in Can Tho city”, Journal of Can Tho University. 38 (2015) 130-142.[20] K. Ernest, S.K. Matthew, A.K. Samuel, “Towards Entrepreneurial Learning Competencies: The Perspective of Built Environment Students”, Higher Education Studies. 5 (2015) 20-30.

Eating habits appears to be an important determinant of dietary intake and may consequently influence overweight and obesity. Understanding the relationship between the nutritional status and eating habits is necessary for effective prophylaxis and intervention of overweight/obesity in adolescents. The purpose of this study is to analyze the association of some eating habits with overweight and obesity among adolescents at the age of 11-14 from 9 junior high schools in Hanoi city to help design a model for predicting overweight and obesity from eating habits. A case-control study was conducted on 222 overweight/obese adolescents and 616 normal-weight adolescents (according to International Obesity Taskforce standards, IOTF). Research results indicated that protective factors of overweight and obesity include snacking; snacking at least 2 hours before or after a main meal; consumption of milk and dairy products in snacks; sensory liking for fruit. Risk factors include sensory liking for fat, sensory liking for sweet, sensory liking for fast food, sensory liking for carbonated soft drinks, skipping breakfast, and snacking before bed. The best predictive model of overweight and obesity s built from logistic regression analysis including 8 of the above eating habits with AUC (Area Under the Curve) value of 0.931. Thus, eating habits are closely related to overweight and obesity among 11-14 year-old adolescents in Hanoi. Keywords Eating habits, overweight, obesity, adolescence, risk factor. References [1] A.S. French, M. Story and C.L. Perry, Self-esteem and obesity in children and adolescents: a literature review, Obesity Research 3 (1995) 479-490. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1550-8528.1995.tb00179.x[2] E.A. Finkelstein, C.J. Ruhm, and K.M. Kosa, Economic causes and consequences of obesity, Annual Review of Public Health 26 (2005) 239-257. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.publhealth.26.021304.144628 [3] N.T.H. Hanh, L.T. Tuyet, D.T.A. Dao, Y. Tao, and D.T. Chu, Childhood obesity is a high-risk factor for hypertriglyceridemia: a case-control study in Vietnam, Osong public health and research perspectives 8 (2017) 138-146. https://doi.org/10.24171/j.phrp.2017.8.2.06[4] J.K. Dibaise, and A.E. Foxx-Orenstein, Role of the gastroenterologist in managing obesity, Expert Review of Gastroenterology & Hepatology (Review) 7 (2013) 439-451 https://doi.org/10.1586/17474124.2013.811061[5] P.V.N. Nguyen, T.K. Hong, T. Hoang, and A.R. Robert, High prevalence of overweight among adolescents in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, BMC Public Health 13 (2013) 141-147. https://doi.org/10.1186/1471-2458-13-141[6] T.T.P. Pham, Y. Matsushita, L.T.K. Dinh, T.V. Do, T.T.T. Nguyen, A.T. Bui, A.Q. Nguyen, and H. Kajio, Prevalence and associated factors of overweight and obesity among schoolchildren in Hanoi, Vietnam, BMC public health 19 (2019) 1478-1488. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12889-019-7823-9[7] H.D. Phan, T.N.P. Nguyen, P.L. Bui, T.T. Pham, T.V. Doan, D.T. Nguyen, and H.V. Minh, Overweight and obesity among Vietnamese school-aged children: National prevalence estimates based on the World Health Organization and International Obesity Task Force definition, PloS one 15 (2020) e0240459-e0240478. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0240459[8] M. Zalewska, and E. Maciorkowska, Selected nutritional habits of teenagers associated with overweight and obesity, PeerJ 5 (2017) e3681-e3693. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.3681[9] K. Sygit, W. Kollataj, M. Gozdziewska, M. Sygit, B. Kollataj, and I.D. Karwat, Lifestyle as an important factor in control of overweight and obesity among schoolchildren from the rural environment, Annals of Agricultural and Environmental Medicine 19 (2012) 557-561. PMID: 23020056. https://journals.indexcopernicus.com/search/article?articleId=2116928[10] N.V. Tuan, Evidence-Based Medicine, Medical publisher, Hanoi, 2008 (in Vietnamese).[11] T.J. Cole, M.C. Bellizzi, K.M. Flegal, and W.H. Dietz, Establishing a standard definition for child overweight and obesity worldwide: international survey, Bmj 320 (2000) 1240-1245. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.320.7244.1240[12] L.T. Hop và Huynh Phuong Nam, Assessment of nutritional status using anthropometric variables, Journal of Food and Nutrition Sciences 7 (2011) 1-7 (in Vietnamese).[13] X. Guo, L. Zheng, Y. Li Y, S. Yu, G. Sun, H. Yang, X. Zhou, X. Zhang, Z. Sun, and Y. Sun, Differences in lifestyle behaviors, dietary habits, and familial factors among normal-weight, overweight, and obese Chinese children and adolescents, International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity 9 (2012) 120-128. https://doi.org/10.1186/1479-5868-9-120[14] J. Yoshida, E. Eguchi, K. Nagaoka, T. Ito, and K. Ogino, Association of night eating habits with metabolic syndrome and its components: a longitudinal study, BMC Public Health 18 (2018) 1366-1379. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12889-018-6262-3[15] L.A. Spence, C.J Cifelli, and G.D. Miller, The role of dairy products in healthy weight and body composition in children and adolescents, Current Nutrition & Food Science 7 (2011) 40-49. https://doi.org/10.2174/157340111794941111[16] R.E. Black, S.M. Williams, I.E. Jones, and A. Goulding, Children who avoid drinking cow milk have low dietary calcium intakes and poor bone health, The American journal of clinical nutrition 76 (2002) 675-680. https://doi.org/10.1093/ajcn/76.3.675[17] I.F.F. Júnior, D.G. Christofaro, J.S. Codogno, P.A. Monteiro, L.S. Silveira, and R.A. Fernandes, The association between skipping breakfast and biochemical variables in sedentary obese children and adolescents, The Journal of pediatrics 161 (2012) 871-874. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpeds.2012.04.055[18] R. Rosenheck, Fast food consumption and increased caloric intake: a systematic review of a trajectory towards weight gain and obesity risk, Obesity reviews 9 (2008) 535-547. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-789X.2008.00477.x[19] A. Lampuré, K. Castetbon, A. Deglaire, P. Schlich, S. Péneau, S. Hercberg, and C. Méjean, Associations between liking for fat, sweet or salt and obesity risk in French adults: a prospective cohort study. International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity 13 (2016) 74-88. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12966-016-0406-6[20] H.C. Hung, K.J. Joshipura, E. Jiang, F.B. Hu, D. Hunter, S.A. Smith-Warner, G.A. Colditz, B. Rosner, D. Spiegelman, and W.C. Willett, Fruit and vegetable intake and risk of major chronic disease, Journal of the National Cancer Institute 96 (2004) 1577-1584. https://doi.org/10.1093/jnci/djh296[21] D.S. Eweis, F. Abed, and J. Stiban, Carbon dioxide in carbonated beverages induces ghrelin release and increased food consumption in male rats: implications on the onset of obesity, Obesity research & clinical practice 11 (2017) 534. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.orcp.2017.02.001[22] M.K. Siddiqui, R. Morales-Menendez, and S. Ahmad, Application of receiver operating characteristics (ROC) on the prediction of obesity, Brazilian Archives of Biology and Technology 63 (2020) e20190736-e20190749. http://dx.doi.org/10.1590/1678-4324-2020190736

06–743Amador moreno, Carolina, stephanie o'riordan & angela chambers (U de Extremadura, Spain; camador@unex.es), Integrating a corpus of classroom discourse in language teacher education: The case of discourse markers. ReCALL (Cambridge University Press) 18.1 (2006), 83–104.06–744Arnold, Ewen (U Leeds, UK; mahakand@omantel.net.om), Assessing the quality of mentoring: Sinking or learning to swim?ELT Journal (Oxford University Press) 60.2 (2006), 117–124.06–745Cary, Lisa J. & Stuart Reifel (U Texas-Austin, USA), Cinematic landscapes of teaching: Lessons from a narrative of classic film, Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 95–109.06–746Commins, Nancy L. & Ofelia B. Miramontes (U Colorado-Boulder, USA), Addressing linguistic diversity from the outset. Journal of Teacher Education (Sage) 57.3 (2006), 240–246.06–747Donnelly, Anna M. (Washington College, USA), Let me show you my portfolio! Demonstrating competence through peer interviews. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 55–63.06–748Ellis, Elizabeth Margaret (U New England, Australia; liz.ellis@une.edu.au), Language learning experience as a contributor to ESOL teacher cognition. TESL-EJ (http://www.tesl-ej.org) 10.1 (2006), 26 pp.06–749Ezer, Hanna (Levinsky College of Education, Israel), Shoshy Millet & Dorit Pakin, Multicultural perspectives in the curricula of two colleges of education in Israel: ‘The curriculum is a cruel mirror of our society’. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 12.4 (2006), 391–406.06–750Farrel, Thomas (Brock U, Canada; tfarrell@brocku.ca), The first year of language teaching: Imposing order. System (Elsevier) 34.2 (2006), 211–221.06–751Garrido, Cecilia & Inma Álvarez (The Open U, UK), Language teacher education for intercultural understanding. European Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 29.2 (2006), 163–179.06–752Goker, Suleyman Davut (Eastern Mediterranean U, Turkey; suleyman.goker@emu.edu.tr), Impact of peer coaching on self-efficacy and instructional skills in TEFL teacher education. System (Elsevier) 34.2 (2006), 239–254.06–753Grant, Carl A. (U Wisconsin-Madison, USA) & Maureen Gillette, A candid talk to teacher educators about effectively preparing teachers who can teach everyone's children. Journal of Teacher Education (Sage) 57.3 (2006), 292–299.06–754Jones, Phyllis (U South Florida, USA; pjones@banshee.sar.usf.edu), Elizabeth West & Dana Stevens, Nurturing moments of transformation in teachers – Comparative perspectives on the challenges of professional development. British Journal of Special Education (Blackwell) 33.2 (2006), 82–90.06–755Kupetz, Rita & Birgit zeigenmeyer (U Hannover, Germany; Rita.Kupetz@anglistik.uni-hannover.de), Flexible learning activities fostering autonomy in teaching training. ReCALL (Cambridge University Press) 18.1 (2006), 63–82.06–756Kwan, Tammy & Francis Lopez-Real (U Hong Kong, China), Mentors' perceptions of their roles in mentoring student teachers. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 33.3 (2005), 275–287.06–757Lenski, Susan Davis (Portland State U, USA), Kathleen Crawford, Thomas Crumpler & Corsandra Stallworth, Preparing pre-service teachers in a diverse world. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 3–12.06–758Martin, Andrew J. (U Western Sydney, Australia), The relationship between teachers' perceptions of student motivation and engagement and teachers' enjoyment of and confidence in teaching. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.1 (2006), 73–93.06–759Mayer, Diane (U California, USA), The changing face of the Australian teaching profession: New generations and new ways of working and learning. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.1 (2006), 57–71.06–760McCormack, Ann, Jennifer Gore & Kaye Thomas (U Newcastle, Australia), Early career teacher professional learning. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.1 (2006), 95–113.06–761Olson, Susan J. & Carol Werhan (U Akron, USA), Teacher preparation via on-line learning: A growing alternative for many. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 76–84.06–762Otero, Valerie K. (U Colorado-Boulder, USA), Moving beyond the ‘get it or don't’ conception of formative assessment. Journal of Teacher Education (Sage) 57.3 (2006), 240–246.06–763Phelan, Anne M. (U British Columbia, Canada), Russell Sawa, Constance Barlow, Deborah Hurlock, Katherine Irvine, Gayla Rogers & Florence Myrick, Violence and subjectivity in teacher education. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.2 (2006), 161–179.06–764Rantz, Frédérique (Kildare Education Centre, Ireland), Exploring intercultural awareness in the primary modern language classroom: The potential of the new model of European language portfolio developed by the Irish Modern Languages in Primary Schools Initiative (MLPSI). Language and International Communication (Multilingual Matters) 5.3&4 (2005), 209–221.06–765Reid, Jo-Anne & Ninetta Santoro (Charles Sturt U, Australia), Cinders in snow? Indigenous teacher identities in formation. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.2 (2006), 143–160.06–766Reis-Jorge, José M. (Instituto Superior de Educação e Ciências, Portugal), Developing teachers' knowledge and skills as researchers: A conceptual framework. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 33.3 (2005), 303–319.06–767Richardson, Paul W. & Helen M. G. Watt (Monash U, Australia), Who chooses teaching and why? Profiling characteristics and motivations across three Australian universities. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.1 (2006), 27–56.06–768Romano, Molly (U Arizona, USA), Assessing and meeting the needs of pre-service teachers: A programmatic perspective. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 40–54.06–769Ruan, Jiening & Sara Ann Beach (U Oklahoma, USA), Using online peer dialogue journaling to promote reflection in elementary pre-service teachers. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 64–75.06–770Shaw, Carla Cooper (Northern Illinois U, USA) & Deborah Dobbins Nederhouser, Reel teachers: References for reflection for real teachers. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 85–94.06–771Shin, Sarah (U Maryland Baltimore County, USA), Learning to teach writing through tutoring and journal writing. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 12.3 (2006), 325–345.06–772Smith, Erica (Charles Sturt U, Australia), A rich tapestry: Changing views of teaching and teaching qualifications in the vocational education and training sector. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 33.3 (2005), 339–351.06–773Smith, Kari & Lilach Lev-Ari (Oranim Academic College of Education, Israel), The place of the practicum in pre-service teacher education: The voice of the students. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 33.3 (2005), 289–302.06–774Stern, Lesa A. (Southern Illinois U, USA; Lstern@siue.edu) & Amanda Solomon, Effective faculty feedback: The road less travelled. Assessing Writing (Elsevier) 11.1 (2006), 22–41.06–775Tate, Patricia, Curtis Pyke, Karen Kortecamp (The George Washington U, USA) & CarolMuskin, Developing an ethical orientation toward supervisory practice through collaborative case writing. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 13–25.06–776Tin, Tan Bee (U Auckland, New Zealand; tb.tin@auckland.ac.nz), Investigating the nature of ‘interest’ reported by a group of postgraduate students in an MA in English language teacher education programme. System (Elsevier) 34.2 (2006), 222–238.06–777Vick, Malcolm (James Cook U, Australia), ‘It's a difficult matter’: Historical perspectives on the enduring problem of the practicum in teacher preparation. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.2 (2006), 181–198.06–778Walsh, Steve (Queens U Belfast, UK), Talking the talk of the TESOL classroom. ELT Journal (Oxford University Press) 60.2 (2006), 133–141.06–779Wasburn-Moses, Leah (Miami U, Ohio, USA), Preparing special educators for secondary positions. Action in Teacher Education (Association of Teacher Educators) 27.3 (2005), 26–39.06–780Wubbels, Theo (Utrecht U, the Netherlands), Perry Den Brok, Letje Veldman&Jan Van Tartvijk, Teacher interpersonal competence for Dutch secondary multicultural classrooms. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 12.4 (2006), 407–433.06–781Yee Fan Tang, Sylvia, May May Hung Cheng & Winnie Wing Mui So (Hong Kong Institute of Education, China), Supporting student teachers' professional learning with standards-referenced assessment. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education (Routledge/Taylor & Francis) 34.2 (2006), 223–244.

04–573 Akker, Evelien (Nijmegen U., The Netherlands; Email: e.akker@nici.kun.nl) and Cutler, Anne. Prosodic cues to semantic structure in native and non-native listening. Bilingualism: Language and Cognition (Cambridge, UK), 6, 2 (2003), 81–96.04–574 Allen, Heather W. (University of Pittsburgh) and Herron, Carol A. mixed-methodology investigation of the linguistic and affective outcomes of summer study abroad. Foreign Language Annals (New York, USA), 36, 3 (2003), 370–385.04–575 Barcroft, Joe (Washington U., MO, USA; Email: barcroft@artsci.wustl.edu). Effects of questions about word meaning during L2 Spanish lexical learning. The Modern Language Journal (Madison, WI, USA), 87, 4 (2003), 546–561.04–576 Boehlke, Olaf (Creighton U., USA; Email: bohlke@creighton.edu). A comparison of student participation levels by group size and language stages during chatroom and face-to-face discussions in German. Calico Journal (Texas, USA), 21, 1 (2003), 67–87.04–577 Brandford, Verna and Wilson, Rebecca (Institute of Education, U. of London). Using PowerPoint to develop pupils' oral skills in modern foreign languages. Francophonie (London, UK), 28 (2003), 18–24.04–578 Brouwer, Catherine E. (U. of Southern Denmark, Denmark; Email: rineke@language.sdu.dk). Word searches in NNS-NS interaction: opportunities for language learning?The Modern Language Journal (Madison, WI, USA), 87, 4 (2003), 534–545.04–579 Carr, Jo (Queensland U. of Technology, Australia; Email: j.carr@qut.edu.au). Why boys into languages won't go: the problematic gender agenda in languages education. Babel, (Adelaide, Australia), 37, 2 (2002), 4–9.04–580 Chalhoub-Deville, Micheline (U. of Iowa, USA; Email: m-chalhoub-deville@uiowa.edu). Second language interaction: current perspectives and future trends. Language Testing (London, UK), 20, 4 (2003), 369–383.04–581 Chan, Victoria, Spratt, Mary and Humphreys, Gillian (Hong Kong Polytechnic U., Hong Kong). Autonomous language learning: Hong Kong tertiary students' attitudes and behaviours. Evaluation and Research in Education (Clevedon, UK), 16, 1 (2002), 1–16.04–582 Dam Jensen, Eva and Vinther, Thora (University of Copenhagen, Denmark; Email: dam@hum.ku.dk.). Exact repetition as input enhancement in second language acquisition. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 3 (2003), 373–428.04–583 De Carlo, Maddalena (Université de Cassino, Italy). Affectivité et acquisition du langage. [Affectivity and Language Acquisition.] Études de linguistique appliquée (Paris, France), 13, 1 (2003), 275–290.04–584 Derwing, Tracey M. (Alberta U., Canada) and Rossiter, Marian J. The effects of pronunciation instruction on the accuracy, fluency and complexity of L2 accented speech. Applied Language Learning (Monterey, CA, USA), 13, 1 (2003), 1–18.04–585 Dykstra-Pruim, Pennylyn (Calvin College, MI, USA). L2 acquisition of German plurals: how students form them and textbooks teach them. Die Unterrichtspraxis (Cherry Hill, NJ, USA), 36, 1 (2003), 43–55.04–586 Eckman, Fred (University of Wisconsin, USA; Email: eckman@uwm.edu), Elreyes, Abdullah and Iverson, Gregory. Some principles of second language phonology. Second Language Research (London, UK), 19, 3 (2003), 169–208.04–587 Egbert, Joy (Washington State U., USA; Email: jegbert@wsu.edu). A study of flow theory in the foreign language classroom. The Modern Language Journal (Madison, WI, USA), 87, 4 (2003), 499–518.04–588 Ehrman, Madeline (Foreign Service Institute, US Dept of State, Washington DC, USA; Email: ehrmann@aol.com) and Leaver, Betty Lou. Cognitive styles in the service of language learning. System, 31, 3 (2003), (Oxford), 393–415.04–589 Felser, Claudia (U. of Essex, UK; Email: felsec@essex.ac.uk), Roberts, Leah, Gross, Rebecca and Marinis, Theodore. The processing of ambiguous sentences by first and second language learners of English. Applied Psycholinguistics (Cambridge, UK), 24, 3 (2003), 453–490.04–590 Gass, Susan (Michigan State University, USA; Email: gass@msu.edu) and Svetics, Ildikó. Differential effects of attention. Language Learning (Michigan, USA), 53, 3 (2003), 497–545.04–591 Griffiths, Carol (Auckland Institute of Studies, Auckland, New Zealand; Email: carolg@ais.ac.nz). Patterns of language learning strategy use. System, (Oxford, UK), 31, 3 (2003), 367–383.04–592 Hertel, Tammy J. (Department of World Languages and Cultures, Juniata College, USA; Email: hertel@juniata.edu) Lexical and discourse factors in the second language acquisition of Spanish word order. Second Language Research (London, England), 19, 4 (2003), 273–304.04–593 Hertel, Tammy J. (Juniata College). Using an e-mail exchange to promote cultural learning. Foreign Language Annals (New York, USA), 36, 3 (2003), 386–396.04–594 Hu, Chieh-Fang (Taipei Municipal Teachers College, Taiwan; Email: cfhu@mail1.tmtc.edu.tw). Phonological memory, phonological awareness and foreign language word learning. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 3 (2003), 429–462.04–595 Izumi, Shinichi (Sophia University, Japan; Email: s-izumi@sophia.ac.jp). Processing difficulty in comprehension and production of relative clauses by learners of English as a second language. Language Learning (Michigan, USA), 53, 2 (2003), 285–323.04–596 Jones, Linda, J. (U. of Arkansas, USA; Email: lcjones@uark.edu). Supporting listening comprehension and vocabulary acquisition with multimedia annotation: the students' voice. Calico Journal (San Marcos Tex. USA), 21, 1 (2003), 41–65.04–597 Jung, Euen Hyuk (Sarah) (Yonsei U., South Korea; Email: jungehs@hotmail.com). The role of discourse signaling cues in second language listening comprehension. The Modern Language Journal (Madison, WI, USA), 87, 4 (2003), 562–577.04–598 Knutson, Sonja (Memorial U., Newfoundland, Canada). Experiential learning in second-language classrooms. TESL Canada Journal (Burnaby, B.C., Canada), 20, 2 (2003), 53–64.04–599 Littlemore, Jeannette (U. of Birmingham, UK). The communicative effectiveness of different types of communication strategy. System, (Oxford, UK), 31, 3 (2003), 331–34704–600 McCollum, Daniel L. (Pennsylvania State U., USA). Utilizing non-cognitive predictors of foreign language achievement. Applied Language Learning (Monterey, CA, USA), 13, 1 (2003), 19–32.04–601 Morris, Frank (University of Miami, USA; Email: fmorris@miami.edu.) and Tarone, Elaine. Impact of classroom dynamics on the effectiveness of recasts in second language acquisition. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 2 (2003), 325–368.04–602 Ntirampeba, Pascal (Université de Montréal, Québec, Canada). La progression en didactique du texte argumentatif écrit. [Progressive approach to written argumentative text.] Révue Canadienne de Linguistique Appliquée, 6, 2 (2003), 159–169.04–603 Parkinson, Brian, Benson, Cathy and Jenkins, Michael (U. of Edinburgh, Scotland, UK). Learner diary research with ‘Cambridge' examination candidates. Edinburgh Working Papers in Applied Linguistics (Edinburgh, Scotland, UK), 12 (2003), 45–63.04–604 Pérez, Luisa, C. (Emporia State U., USA; Email: perezlui@emporia.edu). Foreign language productivity in synchronous versus asynchronous computer-mediated communication. Calico Journal (Texas, USA), 21, 1 (2003), 89–104.04–605 Pulido, Diana (Washington State University, USA; Email: dpulido@wsu.edu.). Modeling the role of second language proficiency and topic familiarity in second language incidental vocabulary acquisition through reading. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 2 (2003), 233–284.04–606 Sasaki, Yoshinori (Ochanomizu U., Japan) and Hayakawa, Harumi. Does a quiz facilitate or spoil language learning? Instructional effects of lesson review quizzes. Applied Language Learning (Monterey, CA, USA), 13, 1 (2003), 33–56.04–607 Seus-Walker, Katia (IUT-Université de Toulouse III, France). Pour développer l'autonomie des apprenants. [Developing learner autonomy.] Les Cahiers de l'APLIUT, XXII, 2 (2003), 43–58.04–608 Sparks, Richard L. (College of Mount St. Joseph, Cincinnati, Ohio) Philips, Lois and Javorsky, James. College students classified as having learning disabilities and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and the foreign language requirement. Foreign Language Annals (New York, USA), 36, 3 (2003), 325–337.04–609 Stotz, Daniel and Meuter, Tessa (Zürcher Hochschule Winterthur, Switzerland; Email: daniel.stotz@zhwin.ch). Embedded English: integrating content and language learning in a Swiss primary school project. Bulletin suisse de linguistique appliquée (Neuchâtel, Switzerland), 77 (2003), 83–101.04–610 Takeuchi, Osamu (Kansai U., Osaka, Japan; Email: takeuchi@ipcku.kansai-u.ac.jp). What can we learn from good foreign language learners? A qualitative study in the Japanese foreign language context. System, (Oxford, UK), 31, 3 (2003), 385–392.04–611 Vandergrift, Larry (University of Ottawa, Canada; Email: lvdgrift@uottawa.ca). Orchestrating strategy use: toward a model of the skilled second language listener. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 3 (2003), 463–496.04–612 Vann, Roberta J. (Iowa State U., USA) and Fairbairn, Shelley B. Linking our worlds: a collaborative academic literacy project. TESOL Journal (Alexandria, VA, USA), 12, 3 (2003), 11–16.04–613 Verspoor, Marjolijn and Lowie, Wander (University of Groningen, The Netherlands). Making sense of polysemous words. Language Learning (University of Michigan, USA), 53, 3 (2003), 547–586.04–614 Weldon, A. and Trautmann, G. (U. of North Carolina-Asheville, USA). Spanish and service-learning: pedagogy and praxis. Hispania (Ann Arbor, USA), 86, 3 (2003), 574–585.04–615 Wen, W. P. (Xiangtan U., Hunan, P.R. of China lw@xtu.edu.com) and Clément, R. A Chinese conceptualisation of willingness to communicate in ESL. Language, Culture and Curriculum, (Clevedon, UK) 16, 1 (2003), 18–38.04–616 Yeh, Yuli and Wang, Chai-wei. (National Tsing Hua U., Taiwan; Email: ylyeh@mx.nthu.edu.tw). Effects of multimedia vocabulary annotations and learning styles on vocabulary learning. Calico Journal (Texas, USA), 21, 1 (2003), 131–144.04–617 Yuet Hung Chan, C. (City U. of Hong Kong; Email: ctcych@cityu.edu.hk). Cultural content and reading proficiency: a comparison of mainland Chinese and Hong Kong learners of English. Language, Culture and Curriculum, (Clevedon, UK) 16, 1 (2003), 60–69.04–618 Zsiga, Elizabeth (Georgetown University, USA; Email: zsigae@georgetown.edu). Articulatory timing in a second language – evidence from Russian and English. Studies in Second Language Acquisition (New York, USA), 25, 3 (2003), 399–432.04–619 Zughoul, Muhammed Raji and Abdul-Fattah, Hussein (Yarmouk U., Jordan). Translational collocational strategies of Arab learners of English: a study in lexical semantics. Babel (Amsterdam, The Netherlands), 49, 1 (2003), 59–81.

It seems clear that people who are deaf ... struggle continually against the meanings that others impose on their experience, and the way that this separates them from others. They struggle for acknowledgement of the way they see their lives and wish to live them, and aspire to connection?with other people, to share and belong. (David Moorhead. Knowing Who I Am. 1995. 85.) Nga Tapuwae and Before I am deaf but, before that part of my life started, I was hearing and worked for many years as a librarian in New Zealand. My first job was in a public library located within a secondary school Nga Tapuwae Secondary College in South Auckland. Its placement was a 1970’s social experiment to see if a public library could work within the grounds of a community college (and the answer was no, it could not). The experience was a great introduction for me to the Maori and Polynesian cultures that I had not previously encountered. Until then, I was wary of both groups, and so it was a revelation to realise that although there were many social problems in the area including low literacy, many of the children and teenagers were bright, talented individuals. They simply did not connect to the Anglo-Saxon reading materials we offered. Years later, my interest in the social dynamics of literacy led to my enrolment in a post-graduate literacy degree in Melbourne. This action may have saved my life because at the end of this course, a minor ailment resulted in a visit to the university doctor who diagnosed me with the life-threatening medical condition, Neurofibromatosis Type 2 (NF 2). NF2 is a late onset genetic condition in which one’s body grows tumours, always on both hearing nerves, sometimes elsewhere as well. The tumours usually cause deafness and can cause death. I was told I needed to have my tumours removed and would probably become fully deaf as a result. This is how my life as I knew it changed direction and I started the long journey towards becoming deaf. Diagnosis and Change Predictably, once diagnosed, friends and colleagues rallied to comfort me. I was told things probably weren’t as bad as they sounded. Helen Keller was mentioned several times as an example of someone who had succeeded despite being deaf and blind. ‘Really,’ my friends asked, ‘how bad can it be? ‘Inside myself however, it couldn’t have been worse. A day later the enormity of it all hit me and I became inconsolable. A friend drove me back to the doctor and she did two things that were to change my life. She referred me to the University’s counselling services where, happily, I was counselled by Elizabeth Hastings who later went on to become Australia’s first Disability Services Commissioner. Secondly, the doctor organised for me to visit the HEAR Service at the Victorian Deaf Society (VDS). Again by happy accident, my friend and I stumbled into the ‘wrong building’ where I ended up meeting John Lovett, who was Deaf and the CEO there, via an interpreter. When I met John Lovett I was distraught but, unlike other people, he made no attempt to stop me crying. He simply listened carefully until I realised he understood what I was saying and stopped crying myself. He said my fears that I could end up alone and lonely were valid and he suggested the best thing I could do for myself was to join the ‘Deaf community’; a community. I had never heard of. He explained it was made up of people like him who used Australian sign language (Auslan) to communicate. He was so engaging and supportive that this plan sounded fine to me. By the time we finished talking and he walked me over to the HEAR Service, I was so in his thrall that I had enrolled for a Deaf awareness workshop, an Auslan class, and had plans to join the Deaf community. Had I stayed on and learned Auslan, my life may well have followed a different path, but this was not to be at that time. Becoming Hearing Impaired (HI) Across at the HEAR service, an alternate view of my potential future was put to me. Instead of moving away from everything familiar and joining the Deaf community, I could learn to lip-read and hopefully use it to stay in the workforce and amongst my hearing friends. I had a cousin and aunt who were late deafened; my cousin in particular was doing well communicating with lip-reading. I discussed this with friends and the idea of staying with the people I already knew sounded far less confronting than joining the Deaf community and so I chose this path. My surgeon was also optimistic. He was confident he could save some of my hearing. Suddenly learning Auslan seemed superfluous. I phoned John Lovett to explain, and his response was that I should do what suited me, but he asked me to remember one thing: that it was me who decided to leave the Deaf Community, not that the Deaf community had not wanted me. He told me that, if I changed my mind, I could always go back because the door to the Deaf community would always be open and he would be still be there. It would be a decade before I decided that I wanted to go back through that door, and around that time this great man passed away, but I never forgot my promise to remember our conversation. It, and a few other exchanges I had with him in the following years, stayed at the back of my mind, especially as my residual hearing sank over the years, and the prospect of total deafness hung over me. When I had the surgery, my surgeon’s optimism proved unfounded. He could not save any hearing on my left side and my facial and balance nerves were damaged as well. The hospital then decided not to operate again, and would only attempt to remove the second tumour if it grew and threatened my health again. Consequently, for close to a decade, my life was on hold in many ways. I feared deafness—for me it signalled that my life as I knew it would end and I would be isolated. Every hearing test was a tense time for me as I watched my remaining hearing decline in a slow, relentless downward path on the graph. It was like watching the tide go out knowing it was never going to come in as fully again. My thinking started to change too. Within a week of my diagnosis I experienced discrimination for the first time. A library school that had offered me a place in its post graduate librarianship course the following year made it clear that they no longer wanted me. In the end it did not matter as I was accepted at another institution but it was my first experience of being treated less favourably in the community and it was a shock. After the surgery my life settled down again. I found work in public libraries again, rekindled an old relationship and in 1994 had a baby boy. However, living with a hearing loss is hard work. Everything seemed tiring, especially lip-reading. My ears rejected my hearing aid and became itchy and inflamed. I became aware that my continual hearing problems were sometimes seen as a nuisance in work situations. Socialising lost a lot of its appeal so my social world also contracted. Around this time something else started happening. Outside work, people started expressing admiration for me—words like ‘role model’ and ‘inspiring’ started entering the conversation. Any other time I might have enjoyed it but for me, struggling to adapt to my new situation, it felt odd. The whole thing reminded me of being encouraged to be like Helen Keller; as if there is a right way to behave when one is deaf in which you are an inspiration, and a wrong way in which one is seen as being in need of a role model. I discussed this with Elizabeth Hastings who had helped me prepare mentally for the surgery and afterwards. I explained I felt vulnerable and needy in my new situation and she gave me some useful advice. She thought feeling needy was a good thing as realising one needs people keeps one humble. She observed that, after years of intellectualising, educated people sometimes started believing they could use intellectualisation as a way to avoid painful emotions such as sadness. This behaviour then cut them off from support and from understanding that none of us can do it alone. She believed that, in always having to ask for help, people with disabilities are kept aware of the simple truth that all people depend on others to survive. She said I could regard becoming deaf as a disability, or I could choose to regard it as a privilege. Over the years the truth of her words became increasingly more evident to me as I waded through all the jargon and intellectualisation that surrounds discussion of both deafness and the disability arena, compared to the often raw emotion expressed by those on the receiving end of it. At a personal level I have found that talking about emotions helps especially in the face of the ubiquitous ‘positive thinking’ brigade who would have us all believe that successful people do not feel negative emotions regardless of what is happening. The Lie Elizabeth had initially sympathised with my sadness about my impending deafness. One day however she asked why, having expressed positive sentiments both about deaf people and people with disabilities, I was saying I would probably be better off dead than deaf? Up until that conversation I was unaware of the contradictions between what I felt and what I was saying. I came to realise I was living a lie because I did not believe what I was telling myself; namely, that deaf people and people with disabilities are as good as other people. Far from believing this, what I really thought was that being deaf, or having a disability, did lessen one’s worth. It was an uncomfortable admission, particularly sharing it with someone sitting in a wheelchair, and especially as up until then I had always seen myself as a liberal thinker. Now, faced with the reality of becoming deaf, I had been hoist by my own petard, as I could not come to terms with the idea of myself as a deaf person. The Christian idea of looking after the ‘less fortunate’ was one I had been exposed to, but I had not realised the flip side of it, which is that the ‘less fortunate’ are also perceived as a ‘burden’ for those looking after them. It reminded me of my initial experiences years earlier at Nga Tapuwae when I came face to face with cultures I thought I had understood but did not. In both cases it was only when I got to know people that I began to question my own attitudes and assumptions and broadened my thinking. Unfortunately for deaf people, and people with disabilities, I have not been the only person lying to myself. These days it is not common for people to express their fears about deaf people or people with disabilities. People just press on without fully communicating or understanding the other person’s attitude or perspectives. When things then do not work out, these failures reinforce the misconceptions and these attitudes persist. I believe it is one of the main reasons why true community inclusion for deaf and people with disabilities is moving so slowly. Paying for access is another manifestation of this. Everyone is supportive of access in principle but there is continuous complaint about paying for things such as interpreting. The never-ending discussions between deaf people and the wealthy movie industry about providing more than token access to captioned cinema demonstrate that the inclusion lie is alive and well. Until it can be effectively addressed through genuine dialogue, deaf people, hard of hearing people and people with disabilities will always be largely relegated to life outside the mainstream. Collectively we will also continue to have to endure this double message that we are of equal value to the community while simultaneously being considered a financial burden if we try to access it in ways that are meaningful to us. Becoming Deaf In 2002 however all this thinking still lay ahead of me. I still had some hearing and was back living in New Zealand to be close to my family. My relationship had ended and I was a solo mother. My workplace had approved leave of absence, and so I still had my job to go back to in Melbourne if I wanted it. However, I suspected that I would soon need the second tumour removed because I was getting shooting pains down my face. When my fears were confirmed I could not decide whether to move back to Melbourne or let the job go, and risk having trouble finding one if I went back later. I initially chose to stay longer as my father was sick but eventually I decided Melbourne was where I wanted to be especially if I was deaf. I returned, found temporary employment, and right up to the second surgery I was able to work as I could make good use of the small amount of hearing I still had. I thought that I would still be able to cope when I was made fully deaf as a result of the surgery. It was, after all, only one notch down on the audiogram and I was already ‘profoundly deaf’ and still working. When I woke up after the surgery completely deaf, it felt anti-climactic. The world seemed exactly the same, just silent. At home where I was surrounded by my close family and friends everything initially seemed possible. However, when my family left, it was just my seven-year-old son and myself again, and on venturing back into the community, it quickly became clear to me that at some level my status had changed. Without any cues, I struggled to follow speech and few people wanted to write things down. Although my son was only seven, people communicated with him in preference to me. I felt as if we had changed roles: I was now the child and he was the adult. Worse was soon to follow when I tried to re-enter the workforce. When I had the surgery, the hospital had installed a gadget called an auditory brainstem implant, (ABI) which they said would help me hear. An ABI is similar to a cochlear implant but it is attached to the brainstem instead of the cochlear nerve. My cochlear nerve was removed. I hoped my ABI would enable me to hear enough to find work but, aside from clinical conditions in which there was no background noise and the staff knew how to assist, it did not work. My most humiliating moment with it came when it broke down mid job interview and I spent half the time left trying to get it going again in full view of the embarrassed interview panel, and the other half trying to maintain my composure whilst trying to lip-read the questions. The most crushing blow came from the library where I had happily worked for seven years at middle management level. This library was collaborating with another institution to set up a new library and they needed new staff. I hopefully applied for a job at the same level I had worked at prior to becoming deaf but was unsuccessful. When I asked for feedback, I was told that I was not seen as having the skills to work at that level. My lowest point came when I was refused a job unpacking boxes of books. I was told I did not have experience in this area even though, as any librarian will attest, unpacking boxes is part of any librarian’s work. When I could not find unskilled work, it occurred to me that possibly I would never work again. While this was unfolding, my young son and I went from being comfortable financially to impoverished. My ex-partner also decided he would now make childcare arrangements directly with my son as he was annoyed at being expected to write things down for me. My relationship with him, some family members, and my friends were all under strain at that time. I was lost. It also became clear that my son was not coping. Although he knew the rudiments of Auslan, it was not enough for us to communicate sufficiently. His behaviour at school deteriorated and one night he became so frustrated trying to talk to me that he started to pull out his own hair. I calmed him and asked him to write down for me what he was feeling and he wrote down ‘It is like you died. It is like I don’t have a Mum now’. It was now clear to me that although I still had my friends, nobody including myself knew what to do. I realised I had to find someone who could understand my situation and I knew now it had to be a Deaf person. Fortunately, by this stage I was back learning Auslan again at La Trobe University. The week after the conversation with my son, I told my Auslan teacher what had happened. To my relief she understood my situation immediately. She told me to bring my son to class, at no cost, and she would teach him herself. I did and my life started to turn around. My son took to Auslan with such speed and application that he was able to not only converse with her in one month but immediately started using Auslan with me at home to get the things he wanted. We were able to re-establish the mother/son relationship that we both needed. I was also able to help my son talk through and deal with all the changes that me becoming deaf had foisted upon him. He still uses Auslan to talk to me and supplements it using speech, copious finger spelling, notes and diagrams. More than anything else, this relationship has kept me anchored to my long-term goal of becoming a clear signer. Encouraged by my son’s success, I put all my energy into learning Auslan and enrolled in a full time TAFE Auslan course. I also joined a chat group called ‘Here to Hear’ (H2H). The perspectives in the group ranged from strongly oral to strongly Deaf but for me, trying to find a place to fit in any of it, it was invaluable. Almost daily I chatted with the group, asking questions and invariably someone responded. The group acted as a safety net and sounding board for me as I worked out the practicalities of living life deaf. The day of my fateful interview and the ABI humiliation, I came home so shaken that I used the Irish remedy of a couple of swigs of whisky, and then went online and posted an account of it all. I can still remember the collective indignation of the group and, as I read the responses, beginning to see the funny side of it . . . something I could not have done alone. I also made use of easy access to Deaf teachers at TAFE and used that to listen to them and ask advice on situations. I found out for example, that if I instructed my son to stand behind me when people in shops insisted on addressing him, they had no alternative but to talk to me; it was a good clear message to all concerned that my son was the child in this relationship. About this time, I discovered the Disability Discrimination Act (DDA) that Elizabeth Hastings had worked so hard on, filed my first DDA complaint, and received my first apology at the mediation session that followed. My personal life also improved, relationship by relationship as everyone adjusted. Slowly the ice melted in most of my relationships; some relationships faded and were replaced with new ones with signing people, and eventually hearing people again. My life moved forward. Through a member of ‘Here to Hear’, I was invited to apply for my first post deaf job—covering holiday leave at a Deaf sports organisation. I practically finger-spelt my way through the interview but not only did they offer me the job, they were delighted to have me. I was able to buy a few things with the money I earned, and suddenly it felt as if everything was possible again. This acceptance of me by Deaf people had a profound impact on me. I mixed with people more, and it was not too long before I was able to use my basic signing skills to use Auslan interpreters and re-enter the workplace. I have discovered over time that living in silence also has advantages—no more noisy parties or rubbish trucks clanging at dawn and in its place a vastly heightened visual awareness that I enjoy. Before I was deaf I thought it would be lonely in the silence but in fact many of life’s best moments—watching rain hit and then run down a window, swimming in the sea, cooking and being with good friends—do not rely upon sound at all; they feel the same way they always did. Sometimes I have felt somewhat of an outsider in the Deaf community. I have sometimes been taken aback by people’s abruptness but I have learned over time that being succinct is valued in Auslan, and some people like to come straight to the point. At crisis points, such as when I asked for help at the Victorian Deaf Society and my Auslan class, it has been a huge relief to talk to Deaf people and know immediately that they understand just from reading their eyes. Having access to an additional world of deaf people has made my life more enjoyable. I feel privileged to be associated with the Deaf community. I can recall a couple of Christmases ago making dinner for some signing friends and suddenly realising that, without noticing, everything had become alright in my world again. Everyone was signing really fast – something I still struggle with; but every now and then someone would stop and summarise so I felt included. It was really relaxed and simply felt like old times, just old times without the sound thrown in. Le Page and Tabouret-Keller, two ethnographers, have this to say about why people communicate the ways they do: The individual ... creates for himself the patterns of his linguistic behaviour so as to resemble those of the group or groups with which from time to time he wishes to be identified, or so as to be unlike those from whom he wishes to be distinguished ... . We see speech acts as acts of projection; the speaker is projecting his inner universe, implicitly with the invitation to others to share it ... he is seeking to reinforce his models of the world, and hopes for solidarity from those with whom he wishes to identify. (181) This quote neatly sums up why I choose to communicate the ways I do. I use Auslan and speech in different situations because I am connected to people in both groups and I want them in my life. I do not feel hugely different from anyone these days. If it is accepted that I have as much to contribute to the community as anyone else, becoming deaf has also meant for me that I expect to see other people treated well and accepted. For me that means contributing my time and thoughts, and advocating. It also means expecting a good level of access to interpreters, to some thought provoking captioned movies in English, and affordable assistive technologies so I can participate. I see this right to participate and engage in genuine dialogue with the rest of the community as central to the aspirations and identity of us all, regardless of who we are or where others think we belong. References Le Page, R.B., and Andree Tabouret-Keller. Acts of Identity: Creole-Based Approaches to Language and Ethnicity. London: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Moorhead, D. “Knowing Who I Am.” In S. Gregory, ed., Deaf Futures Revisited. Block 3, Unit 10, D251 Issues in Deafness. Open University, 1995.

Saturday, 24 July 1971, Tower Mill Hotel The man jiggles the brick, gauges its weight. His stout hand, a flash of his watch dial, the sleeve rolled back, muscles on the upper arm bundled tight. His face half-erased by the dark. There’s something going on beneath the surface that Murray can’t grasp. He thinks of the three witches in Polanski’s Macbeth, huddled together on the beach, digging a circle in the sand with bare hands, unwrapping their filthy bundle. A ritual. The brick’s in the air and it’s funny but Murray expected it to spin but it doesn’t, it holds its position, arcs forward, as though someone’s taken the sky and pulled it sideways to give the impression of movement, like those chase scenes in the Punch and Judy shows you don’t see anymore. The brick hits the cement and fractures. Red dust on cops’ shined shoes. Murray feels the same sense of shock he’d felt, sitting in the sagging canvas seat at one of his film nights, recognising the witches’ bundle, a severed human arm, hacked off just before the elbow; both times looking so intently, he had no distance or defence when the realisation came. ‘What is it?’ says Lan. Murray points to the man who threw the brick but she is looking the other way, at a cop in a white riot helmet, head like a globe, swollen up as though bitten. Lan stands on Murray’s feet to see. The pig yells through a megaphone: ‘You’re occupying too much of the road. It’s illegal. Step back. Step back.’ Lan’s back is pressed against Murray’s stomach; her bum fits snugly to his groin. He resists the urge to plant his cold hands on her warm stomach, to watch her squirm. She turns her head so her mouth is next to his ear, says, ‘Don’t move.’ She sounds winded, her voice without force. He’s pinned to the ground by her feet. Again, ‘Step back. Step back.’ Next to him, Roger begins a chant. ‘Springboks,’ he yells, the rest of the crowd picking up the chant, ‘out now!’ ‘Springboks!’ ‘Out now!’ Murray looks up, sees a hand pressed against the glass in one of the hotel’s windows, quickly withdrawn. The hand belongs to a white man, for sure. It must be one of the footballers, although the gesture is out of keeping with his image of them. Too timid. He feels tired all of a sudden. But Jacobus Johannes Fouché’s voice is in his head, these men—the Springboks—represent the South African way of life, and the thought of the bastard Bjelke inviting them here. He, Roger and Lan were there the day before when the footballers pulled up outside the Tower Mill Hotel in a black and white bus. ‘Can you believe the cheek of those bastards?’ said Roger when they saw them bounding off the bus, legs the span of Murray’s two hands. A group of five Nazis had been lined up in front of the glass doors reflecting the city, all in uniform: five sets of white shirts and thin black ties, five sets of khaki pants and storm-trooper boots, each with a red sash printed with a black and white swastika tied around their left arms, just above the elbow. The Springboks strode inside, ignoring the Nazi’s salute. The protestors were shouting. An apple splattered wetly on the sidewalk. Friday, 7 April 1972, St Lucia Lan left in broad daylight. Murray didn’t know why this upset him, except that he had a vague sense that she should’ve gone in the night time, under the cover of dark. The guilty should sneak away, with bowed heads and faces averted, not boldly, as though going for an afternoon walk. Lan had pulled down half his jumpers getting the suitcase from the top of the cupboard. She left his clothes scattered across the bedroom, victims of an explosion, an excess of emotion. In the two days after Lan left, Murray scours the house looking for some clue to where she was, maybe a note to him, blown off the table in the wind, or put down and forgotten in the rush. Perhaps there was a letter from her parents, bankrupt, demanding she return to Vietnam. Or a relative had died. A cousin in the Viet Cong napalmed. He finds a packet of her tampons in the bathroom cupboard, tries to flush them down the toilet, but they keep floating back up. They bloat; the knotted strings make them look like some strange water-dwelling creature, paddling in the bowl. He pees in the shower for a while, but in the end he scoops the tampons back out again with the holder for the toilet brush. The house doesn’t yield anything, so he takes to the garden, circles the place, investigates its underbelly. The previous tenant had laid squares of green carpet underneath, off-cuts that met in jagged lines, patches of dirt visible. Murray had set up two sofas, mouldy with age, on the carpeted part, would invite his friends to sit with him there, booze, discuss the state of the world and the problem with America. Roger rings in the afternoon, says, ‘What gives? We were supposed to have lunch.’ Murray says, ‘Lan’s left me.’ He knows he will cry soon. ‘Oh Christ. I’m so sorry,’ says Roger. Murray inhales, snuffs up snot. Roger coughs into the receiver. ‘It was just out of the blue,’ says Murray. ‘Where’s she gone?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘She didn’t say anything?’ ‘No,’ says Murray. ‘She could be anywhere. Maybe you should call the police, put in a missing report,’ says Roger. ‘I’m not too friendly with the cops,’ says Murray, and coughs. ‘You sound a bit crook. I’ll come over,’ says Roger. ‘That’d be good,’ says Murray. Roger turns up at the house an hour later, wearing wide pants and a tight collared shirt with thick white and red stripes. He’s growing a moustache, only cuts his hair when he visits his parents. Murray says, ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’ Roger nods, sits down at the vinyl table with his hands resting on his knees. He says, ‘Are you coming to 291 on Sunday?’ 291 St Paul’s Terrace is the Brisbane Communist Party’s headquarters. Murray says, ‘What’s on?’ ‘Billy needs someone to look after the bookshop.’ Murray gives Roger a mug of tea, sits down with his own mug between his elbows, and cradles his head in his hands so his hair falls over his wrists. After a minute, Roger says, ‘Does her family know?’ Murray makes a strange noise through his hands. ‘I don’t even know how to contact them,’ he says. ‘She wrote them letters—couldn’t afford to phone—but she’s taken everything with her. The address book. Everything.’ Murray knows nothing of the specifics of Lan’s life before she met him. She was the first Asian he’d ever spoken to. She wore wrap-around skirts that changed colour in the sun; grew her hair below the waist; sat in the front row in class and never spoke. He liked the shape of her calf as it emerged from her skirt. He saw her on the great lawn filming her reflection in a window with a Sony Portapak and knew that he wanted her more than anything. Murray seduced her by saying almost nothing and touching her as often as he could. He was worried about offending her. What reading he had done made him aware of his own ignorance, and his friend in Psych told him that when you touch a girl enough — especially around the aureole — a hormone is released that bonds them to you, makes them sad when you leave them or they leave you. In conversation, Murray would put his hand on Lan’s elbow, once on the top of her head. Lan was ready to be seduced. Murray invited her to a winter party in his backyard. They kissed next to the fire and he didn’t notice until the next morning that the rubber on the bottom of his shoe melted in the flames. She moved into his house quickly, her clothes bundled in three plastic bags. He wanted her to stay in bed with him all day, imagined he was John Lennon and she Yoko Ono. Their mattress became a soup of discarded clothes, bread crumbs, wine stains, come stains, ash and flakes of pot. He resented her when she told him that she was bored, and left him, sheets pulled aside to reveal his erection, to go to class. Lan tutored high-schoolers for a while, but they complained to their mothers that they couldn’t understand her accent. She told him her parents wanted her to come home. The next night he tidied the house, and cooked her dinner. Over the green peas and potato—Lan grated ginger over hers, mixed it with chili and soy sauce, which she travelled all the way to Chinatown on a bus to buy—Murray proposed. They were married in the botanic gardens, surrounded by Murray’s friends. The night before his father called him up and said, ‘It’s not too late to get out of it. You won’t be betraying the cause.’ Murray said, ‘You have no idea what this means to me,’ and hung up on him. Sunday, 9 April 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray perches on the backless stool behind the counter in The People’s Bookshop. He has the sense he is on the brink of something. His body is ready for movement. When a man walks into the shop, Murray panics because Billy hadn’t shown him how to use the cash register. He says, ‘Can I help?’ anyway. ‘No,’ says the man. The man walks the length of the shelves too fast to read the titles. He stops at a display of Australiana on a tiered shelf, slides his hand down the covers on display. He pauses at Crocodile Hunt. The cover shows a drawing of a bulky crocodile, scaled body bent in an S, its jaws under the man’s thumb. He picks it up, examines it. Murray thinks it odd that he doesn’t flip it over to read the blurb. He walks around the whole room once, scanning the shelves, reaches Murray at the counter and puts the book down between them. Murray picks it up, turns it over, looking for a price. It’s stuck on the back in faded ink. He opens his mouth to tell the man how much, and finds him staring intently at the ceiling. Murray looks up too. A hairline crack runs along the surface and there are bulges in the plaster where the wooden framework’s swollen. It’s lower than Murray remembers. He thinks that if he stood on his toes he could reach it with the tips of his fingers. Murray looks down again to find the man staring at him. Caught out, Murray mutters the price, says, ‘You don’t have it in exact change, do you?’ The man nods, fumbles around in his pocket for a bit and brings out a note, which he lays at an angle along the bench top. He counts the coins in the palm of his hand. He makes a fist around the coins, brings his hand over the note and lets go. The coins fall, clinking, over the bench. One spins wildly, rolls past Murray’s arm and across the bench. Murray lets it fall. He recognises the man now; it is the act of release that triggers the memory, the fingers spread wide, the wrist bent, the black watch band. This is the man who threw the brick in the Springbok protest. Dead set. He looks up again, expecting to see the same sense of recognition in the man, but he is walking out of the shop. Murray follows him outside, leaving the door open and the money still on the counter. The man is walking right along St Paul’s Terrace. He tucks the book under his arm to cross Barry Parade, as though he might need both hands free to wave off the oncoming traffic. Murray stands on the other side of the road, unsure of what to do. When Murray came outside, he’d planned to hail the man, tell him he recognised him from the strike and was a fellow comrade. They give discounts to Communist Party members. Outside the shop, it strikes him that perhaps the man is not one of them at all. Just because he was at the march doesn’t make him a communist. Despite the unpopularity of the cause —‘It’s just fucking football,’ one of Murray’s friends had said. ‘What’s it got to do with anything?’— there had been many types there, a mixture of labour party members; unionists; people in the Radical Club and the Eureka Youth League; those not particularly attached to anyone. He remembers again the brick shattered on the ground. It hadn’t hit anyone, but was an incitement to violence. This man is dangerous. Murray is filled again with nervous energy, which leaves him both dull-witted and super-charged, as though he is a wind-up toy twisted tight and then released, unable to do anything but move in the direction he’s facing. He crosses the road about five metres behind the man, sticks to the outer edge of the pavement, head down. If he moves his eyes upwards, while still keeping his neck lowered, he can see the shoes of the man, his white socks flashing with each step. The man turns the corner into Brunswick Street. He stops at a car parked in front of the old Masonic Temple. Murray walks past fast, unsure of what to do next. The Temple’s entry is set back in the building, four steps leading up to a red door. Murray ducks inside the alcove, looks up to see the man sitting in the driver’s seat pulling out the pages of Crocodile Hunt and feeding them through the half wound-down window where they land, fanned out, on the road. When he’s finished dismembering the book, the man spreads the page-less cover across the back of the car. The crocodile, snout on the side, one eye turned outwards, stares out into the street. The man flicks the ignition and drives, the pages flying out and onto the road in his wake. Murray sits down on the steps of the guild and smokes. He isn’t exactly sure what just happened. The man must have bought the book just because he liked the picture on the front of the cover. But it’s odd though that he had bothered to spend so much just for one picture. Murray remembers how he had paced the shop and studiously examined the ceiling. He’d given the impression of someone picking out furniture for the room, working out the dimensions so some chair or table would fit. A cough. Murray looks up. The man’s standing above him, his forearm resting on the wall, elbow bent. His other arm hangs at his side, hand bunched up around a bundle of keys. ‘I wouldn’t of bothered following me, if I was you,’ the man says. ‘The police are on my side. Special branch are on my side.’ He pushes himself off the wall, stands up straight, and says, ‘Heil Hitler.’ Tuesday April 19, 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray brings his curled fist down on the door. It opens with the force of his knock and he feels like an idiot for even bothering. The hallway’s dark. Murray runs into a filing cabinet, swears, and stands in the centre of the corridor, with his hand still on the cabinet, calling, ‘Roger! Roger!’ Murray told Roger he’d come here when he called him. Murray was walking back from uni, and on the other side of the road to his house, ready to cross, he saw there was someone standing underneath the house, looking out into the street. Murray didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. He knew it was the man from the bookshop, the Nazi. Murray kept walking until he reached the end of the street, turned the corner and then ran. Back on campus, he shut himself in a phone box and dialed Roger’s number. ‘I can’t get to my house,’ Murray said when Roger picked up. ‘Lock yourself out, did you?’ said Roger. ‘You know that Nazi? He’s back again.’ ‘I don’t get it,’ said Roger. ‘It doesn’t matter. I need to stay with you,’ said Murray. ‘You can’t. I’m going to a party meeting.’ ‘I’ll meet you there.’ ‘Ok. If you want.’ Roger hung up. Now, Roger stands framed in the doorway of the meeting room. ‘Hey Murray, shut up. I can hear you. Get in here.’ Roger switches on the hallway light and Murray walks into the meeting room. There are about seven people, sitting on hard metal chairs around a long table. Murray sits next to Roger, nods to Patsy, who has nice breasts but is married. Vince says, ‘Hi, Murray, we’re talking about the moratorium on Friday.’ ‘You should bring your pretty little Vietnamese girl,’ says Billy. ‘She’s not around anymore,’ says Roger. ‘That’s a shame,’ says Patsy. ‘Yeah,’ says Murray. ‘Helen Dashwood told me her school has banned them from wearing moratorium badges,’ says Billy. ‘Far out,’ says Patsy. ‘We should get her to speak at the rally,’ says Stella, taking notes, and then, looking up, says, ‘Can anyone smell burning?’ Murray sniffs, says ‘I’ll go look.’ They all follow him down the hall. Patsy says, behind him, ‘Is it coming from the kitchen?’ Roger says, ‘No,’ and then the windows around them shatter. Next to Murray, a filing cabinet buckles and twists like wet cardboard in the rain. A door is blown off its hinges. Murray feels a moment of great confusion, a sense that things are sliding away from him spectacularly. He’s felt this once before. He wanted Lan to sit down with him, but she said she didn’t want to be touched. He’d pulled her to him, playfully, a joke, but he was too hard and she went limp in his hands. Like she’d been expecting it. Her head hit the table in front of him with a sharp, quick crack. He didn’t understand what happened; he had never experienced violence this close. He imagined her brain as a line drawing with the different sections coloured in, like his Psych friend had once showed him, except squashed in at the bottom. She had recovered, of course, opened her eyes a second later to him gasping. He remembered saying, ‘I just want to hold you. Why do you always do this to me?’ and even to him it hadn’t made sense because he was the one doing it to her. Afterwards, Murray had felt hungry, but couldn’t think of anything that he’d wanted to eat. He sliced an apple in half, traced the star of seeds with his finger, then decided he didn’t want it. He left it, already turning brown, on the kitchen bench. Author’s Note No one was killed in the April 19 explosion, nor did the roof fall in. The bookstore, kitchen and press on the first floor of 291 took the force of the blast (Evans and Ferrier). The same night, a man called The Courier Mail (1) saying he was a member of a right wing group and had just bombed the Brisbane Communist Party Headquarters. He threatened to bomb more on Friday if members attended the anti-Vietnam war moratorium that day. He ended his conversation with ‘Heil Hitler.’ Gary Mangan, a known Nazi party member, later confessed to the bombing. He was taken to court, but the Judge ruled that the body of evidence was inadmissible, citing a legal technicality. Mangan was not charged.Ian Curr, in his article, Radical Books in Brisbane, publishes an image of the Communist party quarters in Brisbane. The image, entitled ‘After the Bomb, April 19 1972,’ shows detectives interviewing those who were in the building at the time. One man, with his back to the camera, is unidentified. I imagined this unknown man, in thongs with the long hair, to be Murray. It is in these gaps in historical knowledge that the writer of fiction is free to imagine. References “Bomb in the Valley, Then City Shots.” The Courier Mail 20 Apr. 1972: 1. Curr, Ian. Radical Books in Brisbane. 2008. 24 Jun. 2011 < http://workersbushtelegraph.com.au/2008/07/18/radical-books-in-brisbane/ >. Evans, Raymond, and Carole Ferrier. Radical Brisbane: An Unruly History. Brisbane: Vulgar Press, 2004.

i) In Australia we do a lot of thinking about home. Or so it would seem from all the talk about belonging, home, being at home (see Read). A sure sign of displacement, some might say. In his recent memoir, John Hughes writes: It is a particularly Australian experience that our personal heritage and sense of identity includes a place and a history not really our own, not really accessible to us. The fact that our sense of self-discovery and self-realisation takes place in foreign lands is one of the rich and complex ironies of being Australian. (24-25) My sense of self-discovery did not occur in a foreign land. However, my personal heritage and sense of identity includes places and histories that are not really my own. Unlike Hughes I don’t have what is often portrayed as an exotic heritage; I am plainly white Australian. I grew up on the Far North Coast of New South Wales, on farms that every year knew drought and flood. My place in this country – both local and national – seemingly was beyond question. I am after all a white, settler Australian. But I left Kyogle twenty years ago and since then much has changed. My project is very different than Hughes’. However, reading his memoir led me to reflect upon my sense of belonging. What is my home made from? Like Hughes I want to deploy memories from my childhood and youth to unpack my idea of home. White settler Australians’ sense of belonging is often expressed as a profound feeling of attachment; imagined as unmediated (Moreton-Robinson 31). It is a connection somehow untroubled by the worldliness of the world: it is an oasis of plentitude. For Indigenous Australians, Aileen Moreton-Robinson argues, non-Indigenous Australians sense of belonging is tied to migrancy, while the Indigenous subject has an ontological relationship to land and these modes are incommensurable (31). Since colonisation the nation state has attempted through an array of social, legal, economic and cultural practices to break Indigenous people’s ontological connections to land, and to cast them as homeless in the ‘modern’ world. The expression of belonging as a profound sense of attachment – beyond the material – denies not only the racialised power relations of belonging and dispossession, but also the history of this sentiment. This is why I want to stay right here and take up Moreton-Robinson’s challenge to further theorise (and reflect) upon how non-Indigenous subjects are positioned in relation to the original owners not through migrancy but through possession (37). ii) Australia has changed a lot. Now most understand Australia to be comprised of a plurality of contradictory memories, imaginaries and histories, generated from different cultural identities and social bodies. Indigenous Australians, who have been previously spoken for, written about, categorised and critiqued by non-Indigenous people, have in the last three decades begun to be heard by mainstream Australia. In a diversity of mediums and avenues Indigenous stories, in all their multiplicity, penetrated the field of Australian culture and society. In so doing, they enter into a dialogue about Australia’s past, present and future. The students I teach at university arrive from school with an awareness that Australia was colonised, not discovered as I was taught. Recent critical historiography, by both Indigenous and non-Indigenous writers and academics, calls for and creates a new Australian memory (Hage 80). A memory, or memories, which the reconciliation movement not only want acknowledged by mainstream Australia but also integrated into national consciousness. Over the last twenty years, many Australian historians have reinforced the truths of fictional and autobiographical accounts of colonial violence against Indigenous people. The benign and peaceful settlement of Australia, which was portrayed in school history lessons and public discourse, began to be replaced by empirical historical evidence of the brutal subjugation of Indigenous people and the violent appropriation of Indigenous land. Indigenous struggles for recognition and sovereignty and revisionist history have created a cultural transformation. However, for all the big changes there has been limited investigation into white Australians’ sense of belonging continuing to be informed and shaped by settler colonial desire. Indigenous memories not only contest and contradict other memories, but they are also derived from different cultural bodies and social and historical contexts. My memory of our farm carved out of Toonumbah State Forest is of a peaceful place, without history; a memory which is sure to contradict Bundjalung memories. To me Kyogle was a town with only a few racial problems; except for the silences and all those questions left unasked. Ghassan Hage argues that a national memory or non-contradictory plurality of memories of colonisation in Australia is impossible because although there has been a cultural war, the two opposing sides have not assimilated to become one (92). There remain within Australia, ‘two communal subjects with two wills over one land; two sovereignties of unequal strength’ (Hage 93). The will of one is not the will of the other. I would argue that there is barely recognition of Indigenous sovereignty by non-Indigenous Australians; for so many there is only one will, one way. Furthermore, Hage maintains that: For a long time to come, Australia is destined to become an unfinished Western colonial project as well as a land in a permanent state of decolonisation. A nation inhabited by both the will of the coloniser and the will of the colonised, each with their identity based on their specific understanding, and memory, of the colonial encounter: what was before it and what is after it. Any national project of reconciliation that fails to fully accept the existence of a distinct Indigenous will, a distinct Indigenous conatus, whose striving is bound to make the settlers experience ‘sadness’, is destined to be a momentary cover-up of the reality of the forces that made Australia what it is. (94) Why must Indigenous will make settlers experience sad passions? Perhaps this is a naïve question. I am not dismissing Hage’s concerns, and agree with his critique of the failure of the project of reconciliation. However, if we are to understand the forces that made Australia what it is – to know our place – then as Hage writes we need not only to acknowledge these opposing forces, but understand how they made us who we are. The narrative of benign settlement might have resulted in a cultural amnesia, but I’m not convinced that settler Australians didn’t know about colonial violence and its aftermath. Unlike Henry Reynolds who asked ‘why didn’t we know?’ I think the question should be, as Fiona Nicoll asks, ‘what is it we know but refuse to tell?’ (7). Or how did I get here? In asking what makes home, one needs to question what is excluded to enable one to stay in place. iii) When I think of my childhood home there is one particular farm that comes to mind. From my birth to when I left home at eighteen I lived in about six different homes; all but one where on farms. The longest was for about eight years, on a farm only a few kilometres from town; conveniently close for a teenager wanting all the ‘action’ of town life. It was just up the road from my grandparents’ place, whose fridge I would raid most afternoons while my grandmother lovingly listened to my triumphs and woes (at least those I thought appropriate for her ears). Our house was set back just a little from the road. On this farm, my brother and I floated paper boats down flooded gullies; there, my sisters, brother and I formed a secret society on the banks of the picturesque creek, which was too quickly torn apart by factional infighting. In this home, my older sisters received nightly phone calls from boys, and I cried to my mother, ‘When will it be my turn’. She comforted me with, ‘Don’t worry, they will soon’. And sure enough they did. There I hung out with my first boyfriend, who would ride out on his motor bike, then later his car. We lolled around on our oddly sloping front lawn and talked for hours about nothing. But this isn’t the place which readily comes to mind when I think of a childhood home. Afterlee Rd, as we called it, never felt like home. Behind the house, over the other side of the creek, were hills. Before my teens I regularly walked to the top of the first hill and rode around the farm, but not all the way to the boundary fence. I didn’t belong there. It was too exposed to passing traffic, yet people rarely stopped to add to our day. For me excitement and life existed elsewhere: the Gold Coast or Lismore. When I think of my childhood home an image comes to mind: a girl child standing on the flat between our house and yards, with hills and eucalypts at her back, and a rock-faced mountain rising up behind the yards at her front. (Sometimes there is a dog by her side, but I think it’s a late edition.) The district was known as Toonumbah because of its proximity (as the crow flies) to Toonumbah Dam. My siblings and I ventured across the farm and we rode with my father to muster, or sometimes through the adjoining State Forest to visit our neighbours who lived deep in the bush. I thought the trees whispered to me and watched over us. They were all seeing, all knowing, as they often are for children – a forest of gods. Sometime during my childhood I read the children’s novel Z for Zachariah: a story of a lone survivor of an apocalypse saved by remaining in a safe and abundant valley, while the rest of the community went out to explore what happened (O’Brien). This was my idea of Toonumbah. And like Zachariah’s valley it was isolated and for that reason, in spite of its plenty, a strange home. It was too disconnected from the world. Despite my sense of homeliness, I never felt sovereign. My disquiet wasn’t due to a sense that at any moment we might be cast out. Quite the opposite, we were there to stay. And not because I was a child and sovereignty is the domain of adults. I don’t think, at least as a feeling, it is. But rather because sovereignty is tied to movement or crossings. Not just being in place, but leaving and returning, freely moving through and around, and welcoming others who recognise it as ‘our’ place. Home is necessitated upon movement. And my idea of this childhood home is reliant upon a romanticised, ‘profound’ feeling of attachment; a legacy of settler colonial desire. There is no place like home. Home is far more than a place, it is, as Blunt and Dowling suggest, about feelings, desire, intimacy and belonging and relationships between places and connections with others (2). One’s sense of home has a history. To be at home one must limit the chaos of the world – create order. As we know, the environment is also ordered to enable a sense of bodily alignment and integrity. How or rather with whom does one establish connections with to create a sense of home? To create a sense of order, who does one recognise as belonging or not? Who is deemed a part of the chaos? Here Sara Ahmed’s idea of the stranger is helpful. Spaces are claimed, or ‘owned’, she argues, not so much by inhabiting what is already there, but rather movement or ‘passing through’ creates boundaries, making places by giving them a value (33). Settlers moved out and across the country, and in so doing created the colonies and later the nation by prescribing an economic value to the land. Colonialism attempts to enclose both Indigenous people and the country within its own logic. To take possession of the country the colonisers attempted to fix Indigenous people in place. A place ordered according to colonial logic; making the Indigenous subject out of place. Thus the Indigenous ‘stranger’ came into view. The stranger is not simply constituted by being recognised by the other, but rather it is the recognition of strangers which forms the local (Ahmed 21-22). The settler community was produced and bounded by their recognition of strangers; their belonging was reliant upon others not belonging. The doctrine of terra nullius cleared the country not only of people, but also of the specifics of Indigenous place, in an attempt to recreate another place inspired by the economic and strategic needs of the colonisers. Indigenous people were further exposed as strangers in the ‘new’ country by not participating in the colonial economy and systems of exchange. Indigenous people’s movement to visit family, to perform ceremony or maintain connections with country were largely dismissed by the colonial culture and little understood as maintaining and re-making sovereignty. European forms of commerce made the settlers sovereign – held them in place. And in turn, this exchange continues to bind settler Australians to ways of being that de-limit connections to place and people. It created a sense of order that still constrains ideas of home. Colonial logic dominates Australian ideas of sovereignty, thus of being at home or belonging in this country. Indeed, I would argue that it enforces a strange attachment: clinging fast as if to a too absent parent or romancing it, wooing a desired but permissive lover. We don’t know, as Fiona Nicoll questions, what Indigenous sovereignty might look like. Discussions of sovereignty are on Western terms. If Indigenous sovereignty is recognised at all, it is largely figured as impractical, impossible or dangerous (Nicoll 9). The fear and forgetting of the long history of Indigenous struggles for sovereignty, Nicoll writes, conceals the everydayness of the contestation (1). Indigenous sovereignty is both unknown and too familiar, thus it continues to be the stranger which must be expelled to enable belonging. Yet without it we cannot know the country. iv) I carry around a map of Australia. It is a simple image, a crude outline of the giant landmass; like what you find on cheap souvenir tea-towels. To be honest it’s just the continent – an islandless island – even Tasmania has dropped off my map. My map is not in my pocket but my head. It comes to mind so regularly I think of it as the shape of my idea of home. It is a place shared by many, yet singularly mine. I want to say that it is not the nation, but the country itself, but of course this isn’t true. My sense of Australia as my home is forged from an imaginary nation. However, I have problems calling Australia home – as if being at home in the nation is like being in an idealised family home. What is too often sentimentalised and fetishised as closed and secure: a place of comfort and seamless belonging (Fortier 119). Making home an infantile place where everything is there for me. But we understand that nations are beyond us and all that they are composed of we cannot know. Even putting aside the romantic notions, nations aren’t very much like home. They are, however, relational. Like bower birds, we collect sticks, stones, shells and coloured things, building connections with the outside world to create something a bit like home in the imaginary nation. I fill my rough map with ‘things’ that hold me in place. We might ask, is a home a home if we don’t go outside? My idea of home borrows from Meaghan Morris. In Ecstasy and Economics, she is attempting to create what Deleuze and Guattari call home. She writes: In their sense of the term, “home does not pre-exist”; it is the product of an effort to “organize a limited space”, and the limit involved is not a figure of containment but of provisional (or “working”) definition. This kind of home is always made of mixed components, and the interior space it creates is a filter or a sieve rather than a sealed-in consistency; it is not a place of origin, but an “aspect” of a process which it enables (“as though the circle tended on its own to open into a future, as a function of the working forces it shelters”) but does not precede – and so it is not an enclosure, but a way of going outside. (92) If home is a way of going outside then we need to know something about outside. Belonging is a desire and we make home from the desire to belong. In desiring belonging we should not forsake the worldliness of the world. What is configured as outside home are often the legal, political, economic and cultural conditions that have produced contemporary Australia. However, by refusing to engage with how colonialism and Indigenous sovereignty have made Australia one might not be able to go outside; risk imprisoning oneself in a too comfortable space. By letting in some of the elements which are strange and unhomely, one might begin to build connections which aid the reimagining of the self and the social, which in turn enables one to not only live in postcolonial Australia but participate in creating it (Probyn). A strange place: unsettled by other desires, histories, knowledge and memories, but a place more like home. I am arguing that we need to know our place. But knowing our place cannot be taken for granted. We need many hearts and minds to allow us to see what is here. The childhood home I write of is not my home, nor do I want it to be. However, the remembering or rather investigation of my idea of home is important. Where has it come from? There has been a lot of discussion about non-Indigenous Australians being unsettled by revisionist historiography and Indigenous demands for recognition and this is true, but the unsettlement has been enabling. Given that settler Australians are afforded so much sovereignty then there seems plenty of room for uncertainty. We don’t need to despair, or if we do, it could be used productively to remake our idea of home. If someone were to ask that tired question, ‘Generations of my family have lived here, where am I going to go?’ The answer is no where. You’re going no where, but here. The question isn’t of leaving, but of staying well. References Ahmed, Sara. Strange Encounters: Embodied Others in Post-coloniality. London: Routledge, 2000. Blunt, Alison, and Robyn Dowling. Home. London: Routledge, 2006. Fortier, Anne-Marie. “Making Home: Queer Migrations and Motions of Attachment.” Uprootings/Regrounding: Questions of Home and Migration. Eds S. Ahmed et. al. Oxford: Berg, 2003. 115-135. Gelder, Ken, and Jane Jacobs. Uncanny Australia: Sacredness and Identity in a Postcolonial Nation. Carlton, Vic: Melbourne UP, 1998. Hage, Ghassan. Against Paranoid Nationalism. Annandale: Pluto Press, 2003. Hughes, John. The Idea of Home: Autobiographical Essays. Sydney: Giramondo, 2004. Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. “I Still Call Australia Home: Indigenous Belonging and Place in a White Postcolonizing Society.” Uprootings/Regrounding: Questions of Home and Migration. Eds S. Ahmed et. al. Oxford: Berg, 2003. 23-40. Morris, Meaghan. Ecstasy and Economics: American Essays for John Forbes. Sydney: Empress, 1992. Nicoll, Fiona. “Defacing Terra Nullius and Facing the Public Secret of Indigenous Sovereignty in Australia.” borderlands 1.2 (2002): 1-13. O’Brien, Robert C. Z for Zachariah: A Novel. London: Heinemann Educational, 1976. Probyn, Elspeth. Outside Belongings. New York: Routledge, 1996. Read, Peter. Belonging: Australians, Place and Aboriginal Ownership. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Reynolds, Henry. Why Weren’t We Told?: A Personal Search for the Truth about Our History. Melbourne: Penguin, 2002. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Slater, Lisa. "No Place like Home: Staying Well in a Too Sovereign Country." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/13-slater.php>. APA Style Slater, L. (Aug. 2007) "No Place like Home: Staying Well in a Too Sovereign Country," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/13-slater.php>.

Introduction Lillian Ng was born in Singapore and lived in Hong Kong and the United Kingdom before migrating to Australia with her daughter and Ah Mah Yin Jie (“Ah Mahs are a special group of people who took a vow to remain unmarried … [so they] could stick together as a group and make a living together” (Yu 118)). Ng studied classical Chinese at home, then went to an English school and later on studied Medicine. Her first book, Silver Sister (1994), was short-listed for the inaugural Angus & Robertson/Bookworld Prize in 1993 and won the Human Rights Award in 1995. Ng defines herself as a “Chinese living in Australia” (Yu 115). Food, flesh and meat are recurrent topics in Lillian Ng´s second novel Swallowing Clouds, published in 1997. These topics are related to desire and can be used as a synecdoche (a metaphor that describes part/whole relations) of the human body: food is needed to survive and pleasure can be obtained from other people´s bodies. This paper focuses on one type of meat and animal, pork and the pig, and on the relation between the two main characters, Syn and Zhu Zhiyee. Syn, the main character in the novel, is a Shanghainese student studying English in Sydney who becomes stranded after the Tiananmen Square massacre of June 1989. As she stops receiving money from her mother and fears repression if she goes back to China, she begins to work in a Chinese butcher shop, owned by Zhu Zhiyee, which brings her English lessons to a standstill. Syn and Zhu Zhiyee soon begin a two-year love affair, despite the fact that Zhu Zhiyee is married to KarLeng and has three daughters. The novel is structured as a prologue and four days, each of which has a different setting and temporal location. The prologue introduces the story of an adulterous woman who was punished to be drowned in a pig´s basket in the HuanPu River in the summer of 1918. As learnt later on, Syn is the reincarnation of this woman, whose purpose in life is to take revenge on men by taking their money. The four days, from the 4th to the 7th of June 1994, mark the duration of a trip to Beijing and Shanghai that Syn takes as member of an Australian expedition in order to visit her mother with the security of an Australian passport. During these four days, the reader learns about different Chinese landmarks, such as the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, the Ming Tomb and the Summer Palace, as well as some cultural events, such as a Chinese opera and eating typical foods like Peking duck. However, the bulk of the plot of the book deals with the sexual relationship, erotic games and fantasies of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee in the period between 1989 and 1992, as well as Syn´s final revenge in January 1993. Pigs The fact that Zhu Zhiyee is a butcher allows Lillian Ng to include references to pigs and pork throughout the novel. Some of them refer to the everyday work of a butcher shop, as the following examples illustrate: “Come in and help me with the carcass,” he [Zhu Zhiyee] pointed to a small suckling pig hung on a peg. Syn hesitated, not knowing how to handle the situation. “Take the whole pig with the peg,” he commanded (11).Under dazzling fluorescent tubes and bright spotlights, trays of red meat, pork chops and lamb cutlets sparkled like jewels … The trays edged with red cellophane frills and green underlay breathed vitality and colour into the slabs of pork ribs and fillets (15).Buckets of pig´s blood with a skim of froth took their place on the floor; gelled ones, like sliced cubes of large agate, sat in tin trays labelled in Chinese. More discreetly hidden were the gonads and penises of goats, bulls and pigs. (16)These examples are representative of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee´s relationship. The first quotation deals with their interaction: most of the time Zhu Zhiyee orders Syn how to act, either in the shop or in bed. The second extract describes the meat’s “vitality” and this is the quality of Syn's skin that mesmerised Zhu when he met her: “he was excited, electrified by the sight of her unblemished, translucent skin, unlined, smooth as silk. The glow of the warmth of human skin” (13). Moreover, the lights seem to completely illuminate the pieces of meat and this is the way Zhu Zhiyee leers at Syn´s body, as it can be read in the following extract: “he turned again to fix his gaze on Syn, which pierced and penetrated her head, her brain, eyes, permeated her whole body, seeped into her secret places and crevices” (14). The third excerpt introduces the sexual organs of some of the animals, which are sold to some customers for a high price. Meat is also sexualised by Zhu Zhiyee´s actions, such as his pinching the bottoms of chickens and comparing them with “sacrificial virgins”: “chickens, shamelessly stripped and trussed, hung by their necks, naked in their pimply white skin, seemed like sacrificial virgins. Syn often caught Zhu pinching their fleshy bottoms, while wrapping and serving them to the housewives” (15-16). Zhu also makes comments relating food with sex while he is having lunch next to Syn, which could be considered sexual harassment. All these extracts exemplify the relationship between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee: the orders, the looks and the implicit sexuality in the quotidian activities in the butcher´s shop. There are also a range of other expressions that include similes with the word `pig´ in Ng´s novel. One of the most recurrent is comparing the left arm and hand of Zhu Zhiyee´s mother with a “pig´s trotter”. Zhu Zhiyee´s mother is known as ZhuMa and Syn is very fond of her, as ZhuMa accepts her and likes her more than her own daughter-in-law. The comparison of ZhuMa´s arm and hand with a trotter may be explained by the fact that ZhuMa´s arm is swollen but also by the loving representation of pigs in Chinese culture. As Seung-Og Kim explains in his article “Burials, Pigs, and Political Prestige in Neolithic China”: In both Melanesia and Asia, pigs are viewed as a symbolic representation of human beings (Allen 1976: 42; Healey 1985; Rappaport 1967: 58; Roscoe 1989: 223-26). Piglets are treated as pets and receive a great deal of loving attention, and they in turn express affection for their human “parents.” They also share some physiological features with human beings, being omnivorous and highly reproductive (though humans do not usually have multiple litters) and similar internal anatomy (Roscoe 1989: 225). In short, pigs not only have a symbiotic relationship with humans biologically but also are of great importance symbolically (121). Consequently, pigs are held in high esteem, taken care of and loved. Therefore, comparing a part of a human´s body, such as an arm or a hand, for example, to a part of a pig´s body such as a pig´s trotter is not negative, but has positive connotations. Some descriptions of ZhuMa´s arm and hand can be read in the following excerpts: “As ZhuMa handed her the plate of cookies Syn saw her left arm, swollen like a pig´s trotter” (97); “Syn was horrified, and yet somewhat intrigued by this woman without a breast, with a pig´s trotter arm and a tummy like a chessboard” (99), “mimicking the act of writing with her pig-trotter hand” (99), and ZhuMa was praising the excellence of the opera, the singing, acting, the costumes, and the elaborate props, waving excitedly with her pig trotter arm and pointing with her stubby fingers while she talked. (170) Moreover, the expression “pig´s trotters” is also used as an example of the erotic fetishism with bound feet, as it can be seen in the following passage, which will be discussed below: I [Zhu Zhiyee] adore feet which are slender… they seem so soft, like pig´s trotters, so cute and loving, they play tricks on your mind. Imagine feeling them in bed under your blankets—soft cottonwool lumps, plump and cuddly, makes you want to stroke them like your lover´s hands … this was how the bound feet appealed to men, the erotic sensation when balanced on shoulders, clutched in palms, strung to the seat of a garden swing … no matter how ugly a woman is, her tiny elegant feet would win her many admirers (224).Besides writing about pigs and pork as part of the daily work of the butcher shop and using the expression “pig´s trotter”, “pig” is also linked to money in two sentences in the book. On the one hand, it is used to calculate a price and draw attention to the large amount it represents: “The blouse was very expensive—three hundred dollars, the total takings from selling a pig. Two pigs if he purchased two blouses” (197). On the other, it works as an adjective in the expression “piggy-bank”, the money box in the form of a pig, an animal that represents abundance and happiness in the Chinese culture: “She borrowed money from her neighbours, who emptied pieces of silver from their piggy-banks, their life savings”(54). Finally, the most frequent porcine expression in Ng´s Swallowing Clouds makes reference to being drowned in a pig´s basket, which represents 19 of the 33 references to pigs or pork that appear in the novel. The first three references appear in the prologue (ix, x, xii), where the reader learns the story of the last woman who was killed by drowning in a pig´s basket as a punishment for her adultery. After this, two references recount a soothsayer´s explanation to Syn about her nightmares and the fact that she is the reincarnation of that lady (67, 155); three references are made by Syn when she explains this story to Zhu Zhiyee and to her companion on the trip to Beijing and Shanghai (28, 154, 248); one refers to a feeling Syn has during sexual intercourse with Zhu Zhiyee (94); and one when the pig basket is compared to a cricket box, a wicker or wooden box used to carry or keep crickets in a house and listen to them singing (73). Furthermore, Syn reflects on the fact of drowning (65, 114, 115, 171, 172, 173, 197, 296) and compares her previous death with that of Concubine Pearl, the favourite of Emperor Guanxu, who was killed by order of his aunt, the Empress Dowager Cixi (76-77). The punishment of drowning in a pig´s basket can thus be understood as retribution for a transgression: a woman having an extra-marital relationship, going against the establishment and the boundaries of the authorised. Both the woman who is drowned in a pig´s basket in 1918 and Syn have extra-marital affairs and break society’s rules. However, the consequences are different: the concubine dies and Syn, her reincarnation, takes revenge. Desire, Transgression and Eroticism Xavier Pons writes about desire, repression, freedom and transgression in his book Messengers of Eros: Representations of Sex in Australian Writing (2009). In this text, he explains that desire can be understood as a positive or as a negative feeling. On the one hand, by experiencing desire, a person feels alive and has joy de vivre, and if that person is desired in return, then, the feelings of being accepted and happiness are also involved (13). On the other hand, desire is often repressed, as it may be considered evil, anarchic, an enemy of reason and an alienation from consciousness (14). According to Pons: Sometimes repression, in the form of censorship, comes from the outside—from society at large, or from particular social groups—because of desire´s subversive nature, because it is a force which, given a free rein, would threaten the higher purpose which a given society assigns to other (and usually ideological) forces … Repression may also come from the inside, via the internalization of censorship … desire is sometimes feared by the individual as a force alien to his/her true self which would leave him/her vulnerable to rejection or domination, and would result in loss of freedom (14).Consequently, when talking about sexual desire, the two main concepts to be dealt with are freedom and transgression. As Pons makes clear, “the desiring subject can be taken advantage of, manipulated like a puppet [as h]is or her freedom is in this sense limited by the experience of desire” (15). While some practices may be considered abusive, such as bondage or sado-masochism, they may be deliberately and freely chosen by the partners involved. In this case, these practices represent “an encounter between equals: dominance is no more than make-believe, and a certain amount of freedom (as much as is compatible with giving oneself up to one´s fantasies) is maintained throughout” (24). Consequently, the perception of freedom changes with each person and situation. What is transgressive depends on the norms in every culture and, as these evolve, so do the forms of transgression (Pons 43). Examples of transgressions can be: firstly, the separation of sex from love, adultery or female and male homosexuality, which happen with the free will of the partners; or, secondly, paedophilia, incest or bestiality, which imply abuse. Going against society’s norms involves taking risks, such as being discovered and exiled from society or feeling isolated as a result of a feeling of difference. As the norms change according to culture, time and person, an individual may transgress the rules and feel liberated, but later on do the same thing and feel alienated. As Pons declares, “transgressing the rules does not always lead to liberation or happiness—transgression can turn into a trap and turn out to be simply another kind of alienation” (46). In Swallowing Clouds, Zhu Zhiyee transgresses the social norms of his time by having an affair with Syn: firstly, because it is extra-marital, he and his wife, KarLeng, are Catholic and fidelity is one of the promises made when getting married; and, secondly, because he is Syn´s boss and his comments and ways of flirting with her could be considered sexual harassment. For two years, the affair is an escape from Zhu Zhiyee´s daily worries and stress and a liberation and fulfillment of his sexual desires. However, he introduces Syn to his mother and his sisters, who accept her and like her more than his wife. He feels trapped, though, when KarLeng guesses and threatens him with divorce. He cannot accept this as it would mean loss of face in their neighbourhood and society, and so he decides to abandon Syn. Syn´s transgression becomes a trap for her as Zhu, his mother and his sisters have become her only connection with the outside world in Australia and this alienates her from both the country she lives in and the people she knows. However, Syn´s transgression also turns into a trap for Zhu Zhiyee because she will not sign the documents to give him the house back and every month she sends proof of their affair to KarLeng in order to cause disruption in their household. This exposure could be compared with the humiliation suffered by the concubine when she was paraded in a pig´s basket before she was drowned in the HuangPu River. Furthermore, the reader does not know whether KarLeng finally divorces Zhu Zhiyee, which would be his drowning and loss of face and dishonour in front of society, but can imagine the humiliation, shame and disgrace KarLeng makes him feel every month. Pons also depicts eroticism as a form of transgression. In fact, erotic relations are a power game, and seduction can be a very effective weapon. As such, women can use seduction to obtain power and threaten the patriarchal order, which imposes on them patterns of behaviour, language and codes to follow. However, men also use seduction to get their own benefits, especially in political and social contexts. “Power has often been described as the ultimate aphrodisiac” (Pons 32) and this can be seen in many of the sexual games between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee in Swallowing Clouds, where Zhu Zhiyee is the active partner and Syn becomes little more than an object that gives pleasure. A clear reference to erotic fetishism is embedded in the above-mentioned quote on bound feet, which are compared to pig´s trotters. In fact, bound feet were so important in China in the millennia between the Song Dynasty (960-1276) and the early 20th century that “it was impossible to find a husband” (Holman) without them: “As women’s bound feet and shoes became the essence of feminine beauty, a fanatical aesthetic and sexual mystique developed around them. The bound foot was understood to be the most intimate and erotic part of the female anatomy, and wives, consorts and prostitutes were chosen solely on the size and shape of their feet” (Holman). Bound feet are associated in Ng’s novel with pig´s trotters and are described as “cute and loving … soft cottonwool lumps, plump and cuddly, [that] makes you want to stroke them like your lover´s hands” (224). This approach towards bound feet and, by extension, towards pig´s trotters, can be related to the fond feelings Melanesian and Asian cultures have towards piglets, which “are treated as pets and receive a great deal of loving attention” (Kim 121). Consequently, the bound feet can be considered a synecdoche for the fond feelings piglets inspire. Food and Sex The fact that Zhu Zhiyee is a butcher and works with different types of meat, including pork, that he chops it, sells it and gives cooking advice, is not gratuitous in the novel. He is used to being in close proximity to meat and death and seeing Syn’s pale skin through which he can trace her veins excites him. Her flesh is alive and represents, therefore, the opposite of meat. He wants to seduce her, which is human hunting, and he wants to study her, to enjoy her body, which can be compared to animals looking at their prey and deciding where to start eating from. Zhu´s desire for Syn seems destructive and dangerous. In the novel, bodies have a price: dead animals are paid for and eaten and their role is the satiation of human hunger. But humans, who are also animals, have a price as well: flesh is paid for, in the form of prostitution or being a mistress, and its aim is satiation of human sex. Generally speaking, sex in the novel is compared to food either in a direct or an indirect way, and making love is constantly compared to cooking, the preparation of food and eating (as in Pons 303). Many passages in Swallowing Clouds have cannibalistic connotations, all of these being used as metaphors for Zhu Zhiyee’s desire for Syn. As mentioned before, desire can be positive (as it makes a person feel alive) or negative (as a form of internal or social censorship). For Zhu Zhiyee, desire is positive and similar to a drug he is addicted to. For example, when Zhu and Syn make delivery rounds in an old Mazda van, he plays the recordings he made the previous night when they were having sex and tries to guess when each moan happened. Sex and Literature Pons explains that “to write about sex … is to address a host of issues—social, psychological and literary—which together pretty much define a culture” (6). Lillian Ng´s Swallowing Clouds addresses a series of issues. The first of these could be termed ‘the social’: Syn´s situation after the Tiananmen Massacre; her adulterous relationship with her boss and being treated and considered his mistress; the rapes in Inner Mongolia; different reasons for having an abortion; various forms of abuse, even by a mother of her mentally handicapped daughter; the loss of face; betrayal; and revenge. The second issue is the ‘psychological’, with the power relations and strategies used between different characters, psychological abuse, physical abuse, humiliation, and dependency. The third is the ‘literary’, as when the constant use of metaphors with Chinese cultural references becomes farcical, as Tseen Khoo notes in her article “Selling Sexotica” (2000: 164). Khoo explains that, “in the push for Swallowing Clouds to be many types of novels at once: [that is, erotica, touristic narrative and popular], it fails to be any one particularly successfully” (171). Swallowing Clouds is disturbing, full of stereotypes, and with repeated metaphors, and does not have a clear readership and, as Khoo states: “The explicit and implicit strategies behind the novel embody the enduring perceptions of what exotic, multicultural writing involves—sensationalism, voyeuristic pleasures, and a seemingly deliberate lack of rooted-ness in the Australian socioscape (172). Furthermore, Swallowing Clouds has also been defined as “oriental grunge, mostly because of the progression throughout the narrative from one gritty, exoticised sexual encounter to another” (Khoo 169-70).Other novels which have been described as “grunge” are Edward Berridge´s Lives of the Saints (1995), Justine Ettler´s The River Ophelia (1995), Linda Jaivin´s Eat Me (1995), Andrew McGahan´s Praise (1992) and 1988 (1995), Claire Mendes´ Drift Street (1995) or Christos Tsiolkas´ Loaded (1995) (Michael C). The word “grunge” has clear connotations with “dirtiness”—a further use of pig, but one that is not common in the novel. The vocabulary used during the sexual intercourse and games between Syn and Zhu Zhiyee is, however, coarse, and “the association of sex with coarseness is extremely common” (Pons 344). Pons states that “writing about sex is an attempt to overcome [the barriers of being ashamed of some human bodily functions], regarded as unnecessarily constrictive, and this is what makes it by nature transgressive, controversial” (344-45). Ng´s use of vocabulary in this novel is definitely controversial, indeed, so much so that it has been defined as banal or even farcical (Khoo 169-70).ConclusionThis paper has analysed the use of the words and expressions: “pig”, “pork” and “drowning in a pig’s basket” in Lillian Ng´s Swallowing Clouds. Moreover, the punishment of drowning in a pig’s basket has served as a means to study the topics of desire, transgression and eroticism, in relation to an analysis of the characters of Syn and Zhu Zhiyee, and their relationship. This discussion of various terminology relating to “pig” has also led to the study of the relationship between food and sex, and sex and literature, in this novel. Consequently, this paper has analysed the use of the term “pig” and has used it as a springboard for the analysis of some aspects of the novel together with different theoretical definitions and concepts. Acknowledgements A version of this paper was given at the International Congress Food for Thought, hosted by the Australian Studies Centre at the University of Barcelona in February 2010. References Allen, Bryan J. Information Flow and Innovation Diffusion in the East Sepic District, Papua New Guinea. PhD diss. Australian National University, Australia. 1976. Berridge, Edward. Lives of the Saints. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 1995. C., Michael. “Toward a sound theory of Australian Grunge fiction.” [Weblog entry] Eurhythmania. 5 Mar. 2008. 4 Oct. 2010 http://eurhythmania.blogspot.com/2008/03/toward-sound-theory-of-australian.html. Ettler, Justine. The River Ophelia. Sydney: Picador, 1995. Healey, Christopher J. “Pigs, Cassowaries, and the Gift of the Flesh: A Symbolic Triad in Maring Cosmology.” Ethnology 24 (1985): 153-65. Holman, Jeanine. “Bound Feet.” Bound Feet: The History of a Curious, Erotic Custom. Ed. Joseph Rupp 2010. 11 Aug. 2010. http://www.josephrupp.com/history.html. Jaivin, Linda. Eat Me. Melbourne: The Text Publishing Company, 1995. Khoo, Tseen. “Selling Sexotica: Oriental Grunge and Suburbia in Lillian Ngs’ Swallowing Clouds.” Diaspora: Negotiating Asian-Australian. Ed. Helen Gilbert, Tseen Khoo, and Jaqueline Lo. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2000. 164-72. Khoo, Tseen; Danau Tanu, and Tien. "Re: Of pigs and porks” 5-9 Aug. 1997. Asian- Australian Discussion List Digest numbers 1447-1450. Apr. 2010 . Kim, Seung-Og. “Burials, Pigs, and Political Prestige in Neolithic China.” Current Anthopology 35.2 (Apr. 1994): 119-141. McGahan, Andrew. Praise. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1992. McGahan, Andrew. 1988. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1995. Mendes, Clare. Drift Street. Pymble: HarperCollins, 1995. Ng, Lillian. Swallowing Clouds. Ringwood: Penguin Books Australia,1997. Pons, Xavier. Messengers of Eros. Representations of Sex in Australian Writing. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009. Rappaport, Roy. Pigs for the Ancestors. New Have: Yale UP, 1967. Roscoe, Paul B. “The Pig and the Long Yam: The Expansion of the Sepik Cultural Complex”. Ethnology 28 (1989): 219-31. Tsiolkas, Christos. Loaded. Sydney: Vintage, 1995. Yu, Ouyang. “An Interview with Lillian Ng.” Otherland Literary Journal 7, Bastard Moon. Essays on Chinese-Australian Writing (July 2001): 111-24.

Introduction Documentary film has grown significantly in the past decade, with high profile films such as Fahrenheit 9/11, Supersize Me, and An Inconvenient Truth garnering increased attention both at the box office and in the news media. In addition, the rising prominence of web-based media has provided new opportunities for documentary to create social impact. Films are now typically released with websites, Facebook pages, twitter feeds, and web videos to increase both reach and impact. This combination of technology and broader audience appeal has given rise to a current landscape in which documentary films are imbedded within coordinated multi-media campaigns. New media have not only opened up new avenues for communicating with audiences, they have also created new opportunities for data collection and analysis of film impacts. A recent report by McKinsey and Company highlighted this potential, introducing and discussing the implications of increasing consumer information being recorded on the Internet as well as through networked sensors in the physical world. As they found: "Big data—large pools of data that can be captured, communicated, aggregated, stored, and analyzed—is now part of every sector and function of the global economy" (Manyika et al. iv). This data can be mined to learn a great deal about both individual and cultural response to documentary films and the issues they represent. Although film has a rich history in humanities research, this new set of tools enables an empirical approach grounded in the social sciences. However, several researchers across disciplines have noted that limited investigation has been conducted in this area. Although there has always been an emphasis on social impact in film and many filmmakers and scholars have made legitimate (and possibly illegitimate) claims of impact, few have attempted to empirically justify these claims. Over fifteen years ago, noted film scholar Brian Winston commented that "the underlying assumption of most social documentaries—that they shall act as agents of reform and change—is almost never demonstrated" (236). A decade later, Political Scientist David Whiteman repeated this sentiment, arguing that, "despite widespread speculation about the impact of documentaries, the topic has received relatively little systematic attention" ("Evolving"). And earlier this year, the introduction to a special issue of Mass Communication and Society on documentary film stated, "documentary film, despite its growing influence and many impacts, has mostly been overlooked by social scientists studying the media and communication" (Nisbet and Aufderheide 451). Film has been studied extensively as entertainment, as narrative, and as cultural event, but the study of film as an agent of social change is still in its infancy. This paper introduces a systematic approach to measuring the social impact of documentary film aiming to: (1) discuss the context of documentary film and its potential impact; and (2) argue for a social science approach, discussing key issues about conducting such research. Changes in Documentary Practice Documentary film has been used as a tool for promoting social change throughout its history. John Grierson, who coined the term "documentary" in 1926, believed it could be used to influence the ideas and actions of people in ways once reserved for church and school. He presented his thoughts on this emerging genre in his 1932 essay, First Principles of Documentary, saying, "We believe that the cinema's capacity for getting around, for observing and selecting from life itself, can be exploited in a new and vital art form" (97). Richard Barsam further specified the definition of documentary, distinguishing it from non-fiction film, such that all documentaries are non-fiction films but not all non-fiction films are documentaries. He distinguishes documentary from other forms of non-fiction film (i.e. travel films, educational films, newsreels) by its purpose; it is a film with an opinion and a specific message that aims to persuade or influence the audience. And Bill Nichols writes that the definition of documentary may even expand beyond the film itself, defining it as a "filmmaking practice, a cinematic tradition, and mode of audience reception" (12). Documentary film has undergone many significant changes since its inception, from the heavily staged romanticism movement of the 1920s to the propagandist tradition of governments using film to persuade individuals to support national agendas to the introduction of cinéma vérité in the 1960s and historical documentary in the 1980s (cf. Barnouw). However, the recent upsurge in popularity of documentary media, combined with technological advances of internet and computers have opened up a whole new set of opportunities for film to serve as both art and agent for social change. One such opportunity is in the creation of film-based social action campaigns. Over the past decade, filmmakers have taken a more active role in promoting social change by coordinating film releases with action campaigns. Companies such as Participant Media (An Inconvenient Truth, Food Inc., etc.) now create "specific social action campaigns for each film and documentary designed to give a voice to issues that resonate in the films" (Participant Media). In addition, a new sector of "social media" consultants are now offering services, including "consultation, strategic planning for alternative distribution, website and social media development, and complete campaign management services to filmmakers to ensure the content of nonfiction media truly meets the intention for change" (Working Films). The emergence of new forms of media and technology are changing our conceptions of both documentary film and social action. Technologies such as podcasts, video blogs, internet radio, social media and network applications, and collaborative web editing "both unsettle and extend concepts and assumptions at the heart of 'documentary' as a practice and as an idea" (Ellsworth). In the past decade, we have seen new forms of documentary creation, distribution, marketing, and engagement. Likewise, film campaigns are utilizing a broad array of strategies to engage audience members, including "action kits, screening programs, educational curriculums and classes, house parties, seminars, panels" that often turn into "ongoing 'legacy' programs that are updated and revised to continue beyond the film's domestic and international theatrical, DVD and television windows" (Participant Media). This move towards multi-media documentary film is becoming not only commonplace, but expected as a part of filmmaking. NYU film professor and documentary film pioneer George Stoney recently noted, "50 percent of the documentary filmmaker's job is making the movie, and 50 percent is figuring out what its impact can be and how it can move audiences to action" (qtd. in Nisbet, "Gasland"). In his book Convergence Culture, Henry Jenkins, coined the term "transmedia storytelling", which he later defined as "a process where integral elements of a fiction get dispersed systematically across multiple delivery channels for the purpose of creating a unified and coordinated entertainment experience" ("Transmedia"). When applied to documentary film, it is the elements of the "issue" raised by the film that get dispersed across these channels, coordinating, not just an entertainment experience, but a social action campaign. Dimensions of Evaluation It is not unreasonable to assume that such film campaigns, just like any policy or program, have the possibility to influence viewers' knowledge, attitudes, and behavior. Measuring this impact has become increasingly important, as funders of documentary and issue-based films want look to understand the "return on investment" of films in terms of social impact so that they can compare them with other projects, including non-media, direct service projects. Although we "feel" like films make a difference to the individuals who also see them in the broader cultures in which they are embedded, measurement and empirical analysis of this impact are vitally important for both providing feedback to filmmakers and funders as well as informing future efforts attempting to leverage film for social change. This type of systematic assessment, or program evaluation, is often discussed in terms of two primary goals—formative (or process) and summative (or impact) evaluation (cf. Muraskin; Trochim and Donnelly). Formative evaluation studies program materials and activities to strengthen a program, and summative evaluation examines program outcomes. In terms of documentary film, these two goals can be described as follows: Formative Evaluation: Informing the Process As programs (broadly defined as an intentional set of activities with the aim of having some specific impact), the people who interact with them, and the cultures they are situated in are constantly changing, program development and evaluation is an ongoing learning cycle. Film campaigns, which are an intentional set of activities with the aim of impacting individual viewers and broader cultures, fit squarely within this purview. Without formulating hypotheses about the relationships between program activities and goals and then collecting and analyzing data during implementation to test them, it is difficult to learn ways to improve programs (or continue doing what works best in the most efficient manner). Attention to this process enables those involved to learn more about, not only what works, but how and why it works and even gain insights about how program outcomes may be affected by changes to resource availability, potential audiences, or infrastructure. Filmmakers are constantly learning and honing their craft and realizing the impact of their practice can help the artistic process. Often faced with tight budgets and timelines, they are forced to confront tradeoffs all the time, in the writing, production and post-production process. Understanding where they are having impact can improve their decision-making, which can help both the individual project and the overall field. Summative Evaluation: Quantifying Impacts Evaluation is used in many different fields to determine whether programs are achieving their intended goals and objectives. It became popular in the 1960s as a way of understanding the impact of the Great Society programs and has continued to grow since that time (Madaus and Stufflebeam). A recent White House memo stated that "rigorous, independent program evaluations can be a key resource in determining whether government programs are achieving their intended outcomes as well as possible and at the lowest possible cost" and the United States Office of Management and Budget (OMB) launched an initiative to increase the practice of "impact evaluations, or evaluations aimed at determining the causal effects of programs" (Orszag 1). Documentary films, like government programs, generally target a national audience, aim to serve a social purpose, and often do not provide a return on their investment. Participant Media, the most visible and arguably most successful documentary production company in the film industry, made recent headlines for its difficulty in making a profit during its seven-year history (Cieply). Owner and founder Jeff Skoll reported investing hundreds of millions of dollars into the company and CEO James Berk added that the company sometimes measures success, not by profit, but by "whether Mr. Skoll could have exerted more impact simply by spending his money philanthropically" (Cieply). Because of this, documentary projects often rely on grant funding, and are starting to approach funders beyond traditional arts and media sources. "Filmmakers are finding new fiscal and non-fiscal partners, in constituencies that would not traditionally be considered—or consider themselves—media funders or partners" (BRITDOC 6). And funders increasingly expect tangible data about their return on investment. Says Luis Ubiñas, president of Ford Foundation, which recently launched the Just Films Initiative: In these times of global economic uncertainty, with increasing demand for limited philanthropic dollars, assessing our effectiveness is more important than ever. Today, staying on the frontlines of social change means gauging, with thoughtfulness and rigor, the immediate and distant outcomes of our funding. Establishing the need for evaluation is not enough—attention to methodology is also critical. Valid research methodology is a critical component of understanding around the role entertainment can play in impacting social and environmental issues. The following issues are vital to measuring impact. Defining the Project Though this may seem like an obvious step, it is essential to determine the nature of the project so one can create research questions and hypotheses based on a complete understanding of the "treatment". One organization that provides a great example of the integration of documentary film imbedded into a larger campaign or movement is Invisible Children. Founded in 2005, Invisible Children is both a media-based organization as well as an economic development NGO with the goal of raising awareness and meeting the needs of child soldiers and other youth suffering as a result of the ongoing war in northern Uganda. Although Invisible Children began as a documentary film, it has grown into a large non-profit organization with an operating budget of over $8 million and a staff of over a hundred employees and interns throughout the year as well as volunteers in all 50 states and several countries. Invisible Children programming includes films, events, fundraising campaigns, contests, social media platforms, blogs, videos, two national "tours" per year, merchandise, and even a 650-person three-day youth summit in August 2011 called The Fourth Estate. Individually, each of these components might lead to specific outcomes; collectively, they might lead to others. In order to properly assess impacts of the film "project", it is important to take all of these components into consideration and think about who they may impact and how. This informs the research questions, hypotheses, and methods used in evaluation. Film campaigns may even include partnerships with existing social movements and non-profit organizations targeting social change. The American University Center for Social Media concluded in a case study of three issue-based documentary film campaigns: Digital technologies do not replace, but are closely entwined with, longstanding on-the-ground activities of stakeholders and citizens working for social change. Projects like these forge new tools, pipelines, and circuits of circulation in a multiplatform media environment. They help to create sustainable network infrastructures for participatory public media that extend from local communities to transnational circuits and from grassroots communities to policy makers. (Abrash) Expanding the Focus of Impact beyond the Individual A recent focus has shifted the dialogue on film impact. Whiteman ("Theaters") argues that traditional metrics of film "success" tend to focus on studio economic indicators that are far more relevant to large budget films. Current efforts focused on box office receipts and audience size, the author claims, are really measures of successful film marketing or promotion, missing the mark when it comes to understanding social impact. He instead stresses the importance of developing a more comprehensive model. His "coalition model" broadens the range and types of impact of film beyond traditional metrics to include the entire filmmaking process, from production to distribution. Whiteman (“Theaters”) argues that a narrow focus on the size of the audience for a film, its box office receipts, and viewers' attitudes does not incorporate the potential reach of a documentary film. Impacts within the coalition model include both individual and policy levels. Individual impacts (with an emphasis on activist groups) include educating members, mobilizing for action, and raising group status; policy includes altering both agenda for and the substance of policy deliberations. The Fledgling Fund (Barrett and Leddy) expanded on this concept and identified five distinct impacts of documentary film campaigns. These potential impacts expand from individual viewers to groups, movements, and eventually to what they call the "ultimate goal" of social change. Each is introduced briefly below. Quality Film. The film itself can be presented as a quality film or media project, creating enjoyment or evoking emotion in the part of audiences. "By this we mean a film that has a compelling narrative that draws viewers in and can engage them in the issue and illustrate complex problems in ways that statistics cannot" (Barrett and Leddy, 6). Public Awareness. Film can increase public awareness by bringing light to issues and stories that may have otherwise been unknown or not often thought about. This is the level of impact that has received the most attention, as films are often discussed in terms of their "educational" value. "A project's ability to raise awareness around a particular issue, since awareness is a critical building block for both individual change and broader social change" (Barrett and Leddy, 6). Public Engagement. Impact, however, need not stop at simply raising public awareness. Engagement "indicates a shift from simply being aware of an issue to acting on this awareness. Were a film and its outreach campaign able to provide an answer to the question 'What can I do?' and more importantly mobilize that individual to act?" (Barrett and Leddy, 7). This is where an associated film campaign becomes increasingly important, as transmedia outlets such as Facebook, websites, blogs, etc. can build off the interest and awareness developed through watching a film and provide outlets for viewers channel their constructive efforts. Social Movement. In addition to impacts on individuals, films can also serve to mobilize groups focused on a particular problem. The filmmaker can create a campaign around the film to promote its goals and/or work with existing groups focused on a particular issue, so that the film can be used as a tool for mobilization and collaboration. "Moving beyond measures of impact as they relate to individual awareness and engagement, we look at the project's impact as it relates to the broader social movement … if a project can strengthen the work of key advocacy organizations that have strong commitment to the issues raised in the film" (Barrett and Leddy, 7). Social Change. The final level of impact and "ultimate goal" of an issue-based film is long-term and systemic social change. "While we understand that realizing social change is often a long and complex process, we do believe it is possible and that for some projects and issues there are key indicators of success" (Barrett and Leddy, 7). This can take the form of policy or legislative change, passed through film-based lobbying efforts, or shifts in public dialogue and behavior. Legislative change typically takes place beyond the social movement stage, when there is enough support to pressure legislators to change or create policy. Film-inspired activism has been seen in issues ranging from environmental causes such as agriculture (Food Inc.) and toxic products (Blue Vinyl) to social causes such as foreign conflict (Invisible Children) and education (Waiting for Superman). Documentary films can also have a strong influence as media agenda-setters, as films provide dramatic "news pegs" for journalists seeking to either sustain or generation new coverage of an issue (Nisbet "Introduction" 5), such as the media coverage of climate change in conjunction with An Inconvenient Truth. Barrett and Leddy, however, note that not all films target all five impacts and that different films may lead to different impacts. "In some cases we could look to key legislative or policy changes that were driven by, or at least supported by the project... In other cases, we can point to shifts in public dialogue and how issues are framed and discussed" (7). It is possible that specific film and/or campaign characteristics may lead to different impacts; this is a nascent area for research and one with great promise for both practical and theoretical utility. Innovations in Tools and Methods Finally, the selection of tools is a vital component for assessing impact and the new media landscape is enabling innovations in the methods and strategies for program evaluation. Whereas the traditional domain of film impact measurement included box office statistics, focus groups, and exit surveys, innovations in data collection and analysis have expanded the reach of what questions we can ask and how we are able to answer them. For example, press coverage can assist in understanding and measuring the increase in awareness about an issue post-release. Looking directly at web-traffic changes "enables the creation of an information-seeking curve that can define the parameters of a teachable moment" (Hart and Leiserowitz 360). Audience reception can be measured, not only via interviews and focus groups, but also through content and sentiment analysis of web content and online analytics. "Sophisticated analytics can substantially improve decision making, minimize risks, and unearth valuable insights that would otherwise remain hidden" (Manyika et al. 5). These new tools are significantly changing evaluation, expanding what we can learn about the social impacts of film through triangulation of self-report data with measurement of actual behavior in virtual environments. Conclusion The changing media landscape both allows and impels evaluation of film impacts on individual viewers and the broader culture in which they are imbedded. Although such analysis may have previously been limited to box office numbers, critics' reviews, and theater exit surveys, the rise of new media provides both the ability to connect filmmakers, activists, and viewers in new ways and the data in which to study the process. This capability, combined with significant growth in the documentary landscape, suggests a great potential for documentary film to contribute to some of our most pressing social and environmental needs. A social scientific approach, that combines empirical analysis with theory applied from basic science, ensures that impact can be measured and leveraged in a way that is useful for both filmmakers as well as funders. In the end, this attention to impact ensures a continued thriving marketplace for issue-based documentary films in our social landscape. References Abrash, Barbara. "Social Issue Documentary: The Evolution of Public Engagement." American University Center for Social Media 21 Apr. 2010. 26 Sep. 2011 ‹http://www.centerforsocialmedia.org/›. Aufderheide, Patricia. "The Changing Documentary Marketplace." Cineaste 30.3 (2005): 24-28. Barnouw, Eric. Documentary: A History of the Non-Fiction Film. New York: Oxford UP, 1993. Barrett, Diana and Sheila Leddy. "Assessing Creative Media's Social Impact." The Fledgling Fund, Dec. 2008. 15 Sep. 2011 ‹http://www.thefledglingfund.org/media/research.html›. Barsam, Richard M. Nonfiction Film: A Critical History. Bloomington: Indiana UP. 1992. BRITDOC Foundation. The End of the Line: A Social Impact Evaluation. London: Channel 4, 2011. 12 Oct. 2011 ‹http://britdoc.org/news_details/the_social_impact_of_the_end_of_the_line/›. Cieply, Michael. "Uneven Growth for Film Studio with a Message." New York Times 5 Jun. 2011: B1. Ellsworth, Elizabeth. "Emerging Media and Documentary Practice." The New School Graduate Program in International Affairs. Aug. 2008. 22 Sep. 2011. ‹http://www.gpia.info/node/911›. Grierson, John. "First Principles of Documentary (1932)." Imagining Reality: The Faber Book of Documentary. Eds. Kevin Macdonald and Mark Cousins. London: Faber and Faber, 1996. 97-102. Hart, Philip Solomon and Anthony Leiserowitz. "Finding the Teachable Moment: An Analysis of Information-Seeking Behavior on Global Warming Related Websites during the Release of The Day After Tomorrow." Environmental Communication: A Journal of Nature and Culture 3.3 (2009): 355-66. Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York: New York UP, 2006. ———. "Transmedia Storytelling 101." Confessions of an Aca-Fan. The Official Weblog of Henry Jenkins. 22 Mar. 2007. 10 Oct. 2011 ‹http://www.henryjenkins.org/2007/03/transmedia_storytelling_101.html›. Madaus, George, and Daniel Stufflebeam. "Program Evaluation: A Historical Overview." Evaluation in Education and Human Services 49.1 (2002): 3-18. Manyika, James, Michael Chui, Jacques Bughin, Brad Brown, Richard Dobbs, Charles Roxburgh, and Angela Hung Byers. Big Data: The Next Frontier for Innovation, Competition, and Productivity. McKinsey Global Institute. May 2011 ‹http://www.mckinsey.com/mgi/publications/big_data/›. Muraskin, Lana. Understanding Evaluation: The Way to Better Prevention Programs. Washington: U.S. Department of Education, 1993. 8 Oct. 2011 ‹http://www2.ed.gov/PDFDocs/handbook.pdf›. Nichols, Bill. "Foreword." Documenting the Documentary: Close Readings of Documentary Film and Video. Eds. Barry Keith Grant and Jeannette Sloniowski. Detroit: Wayne State UP, 1997. 11-13. Nisbet, Matthew. "Gasland and Dirty Business: Documentary Films Shape Debate on Energy Policy." Big Think, 9 May 2011. 1 Oct. 2011 ‹http://bigthink.com/ideas/38345›. ———. "Introduction: Understanding the Social Impact of a Documentary Film." Documentaries on a Mission: How Nonprofits Are Making Movies for Public Engagement. Ed. Karen Hirsch, Center for Social Media. Mar. 2007. 10 Sep. 2011 ‹http://aladinrc.wrlc.org/bitstream/1961/4634/1/docs_on_a_mission.pdf›. Nisbet, Matthew, and Patricia Aufderheide. "Documentary Film: Towards a Research Agenda on Forms, Functions, and Impacts." Mass Communication and Society 12.4 (2011): 450-56. Orszag, Peter. Increased Emphasis on Program Evaluation. Washington: Office of Management and Budget. 7 Oct. 2009. 10 Oct. 2011 ‹http://www.whitehouse.gov/sites/default/files/omb/assets/memoranda_2010/m10-01.pdf›. Participant Media. "Our Mission." 2011. 2 Apr. 2011 ‹http://www.participantmedia.com/company/about_us.php.›. Plantinga, Carl. Rhetoric and Representation in Nonfiction Film. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1997. Trochim, William, and James Donnelly. Research Methods Knowledge Base. 3rd ed. Mason: Atomic Dogs, 2007. Ubiñas, Luis. "President's Message." 2009 Annual Report. Ford Foundation, Sep. 2010. 10 Oct. 2011 ‹http://www.fordfoundation.org/about-us/2009-annual-report/presidents-message›. Vladica, Florin, and Charles Davis. "Business Innovation and New Media Practices in Documentary Film Production and Distribution: Conceptual Framework and Review of Evidence." The Media as a Driver of the Information Society. Eds. Ed Albarran, Paulo Faustino, and R. Santos. Lisbon, Portugal: Media XXI / Formal, 2009. 299-319. Whiteman, David. "Out of the Theaters and into the Streets: A Coalition Model of the Political Impact of Documentary Film and Video." Political Communication 21.1 (2004): 51-69. ———. "The Evolving Impact of Documentary Film: Sacrifice and the Rise of Issue-Centered Outreach." Post Script 22 Jun. 2007. 10 Sep. 2011 ‹http://www.allbusiness.com/media-telecommunications/movies-sound-recording/5517496-1.html›. Winston, Brian. Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited. London: British Film Institute, 1995. Working Films. "Nonprofits: Working Films." Foundation Source Access 31 May 2011. 5 Oct. 2011 ‹http://access.foundationsource.com/nonprofit/working-films/›.

IntroductionSydney’s Garden Palace was a magnificent building with a grandeur that dominated the skyline, stretching from the site of the current State Library of New South Wales to the building that now houses the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. The Palace captivated society from its opening in 1879. This article outlines the building of one of Sydney’s early structural icons and how, despite being destroyed by fire after three short years in 1882, it had an enormous impact on the burgeoning colonial community of New South Wales, thus building a physical structure, pride and a suite of memories.Design and ConstructionIn February 1878, the Colonial Secretary’s Office announced that “it is intended to hold under the supervision of the Agricultural Society of New South Wales an international Exhibition in Sydney in August 1879” (Official Record ix). By December the same year it had become clear that the Agricultural Society lacked the resources to complete the project and control passed to the state government. Colonial Architect James Barnet was directed to prepare “plans for a building suitable for an international exhibition, proposed to be built in the Inner Domain” (Official Record xx). Within three days he had submitted a set of drawings for approval. From this point on there was a great sense of urgency to complete the building in less than 10 months for the exhibition opening the following September.The successful contractor was John Young, a highly experienced building contractor who had worked on the Crystal Palace for the 1851 London International Exhibition and locally on the General Post Office and Exhibition Building at Prince Alfred Park (Kent 6). Young was confident, procuring electric lights from London so that work could be carried out 24 hours a day, to ensure that the building was delivered on time. The structure was built, as detailed in the Colonial Record (1881), using over 1 million metres of timber, 2.5 million bricks and 220 tonnes of galvanised corrugated iron. Remarkably the building was designed as a temporary structure to house the Exhibition. At the end of the Exhibition the building was not dismantled as originally planned and was instead repurposed for government office space and served to house, among other things, records and objects of historical significance. Ultimately the provisional building materials used for the Garden Palace were more suited to a temporary structure, in contrast with those used for the more permanent structures built at the same time which are still standing today.The building was an architectural and engineering wonder set in a cathedral-like cruciform design, showcasing a stained-glass skylight in the largest dome in the southern hemisphere (64 metres high and 30 metres in diameter). The total floor space of the exhibition building was three and half hectares, and the area occupied by the Garden Palace and related buildings—including the Fine Arts Gallery, Agricultural Hall, Machinery Hall and 10 restaurants and places of refreshment—was an astounding 14 hectares (Official Record xxxvi). To put the scale of the Garden Palace into contemporary perspective it was approximately twice the size of the Queen Victoria Building that stands on Sydney’s George Street today.Several innovative features set the building apart from other Sydney structures of the day. The rainwater downpipes were enclosed in hollow columns of pine along the aisles, ventilation was provided through the floors and louvered windows (Official Record xxi) while a Whittier’s Steam Elevator enabled visitors to ascend the north tower and take in the harbour views (“Among the Machinery” 70-71). The building dominated the Sydney skyline, serving as a visual anchor point that welcomed visitors arriving in the city by boat:one of the first objects that met our view as, after 12 o’clock, we proceeded up Port Jackson, was the shell of the Exhibition Building which is so rapidly rising on the Domain, and which next September, is to dazzle the eyes of the world with its splendours. (“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes” 2)The DomeThe dome of the Garden Palace was directly above the intersection of the nave and transept and rested on a drum, approximately 30 metres in diameter. The drum featured 36 oval windows which flooded the space below with light. The dome was made of wood covered with corrugated galvanised iron featuring 12 large lattice ribs and 24 smaller ribs bound together with purlins of wood strengthened with iron. At the top of the dome was a lantern and stained glass skylight designed by Messrs. Lyon and Cottier. It was light blue, powdered with golden stars with wooden ribs in red, buff and gold (Notes 6). The painting and decorating of the dome commenced just one month before the exhibition was due to open. The dome was the sixth largest dome in the world at the time. During construction, contractor Mr Young allowed visitors be lifted in a cage to view the building’s progress.During the construction of the Lantern which surmounts the Dome of the Exhibition, visitors have been permitted, through the courtesy of Mr. Young, to ascend in the cage conveying materials for work. This cage is lifted by a single cable, which was constructed specially of picked Manilla hemp, for hoisting into position the heavy timbers used in the construction. The sensation whilst ascending is a most novel one, and must resemble that experienced in ballooning. To see the building sinking slowly beneath you as you successively reach the levels of the galleries, and the roofs of the transept and aisles is an experience never to be forgotten, and it seems a pity that no provision can be made for visitors, on paying a small fee, going up to the dome. (“View from the Lantern of the Dome Exhibition” 8)The ExhibitionInternational Exhibitions presented the opportunity for countries to express their national identities and demonstrate their economic and technological achievements. They allowed countries to showcase the very best examples of contemporary art, handicrafts and the latest technologies particularly in manufacturing (Pont and Proudfoot 231).The Sydney International Exhibition was the ninth International Exhibition and the colony’s first, and was responsible for bringing the world to Sydney at a time when the colony was prosperous and full of potential. The Exhibition—opening on 17 September 1879 and closing on 20 April 1880—had an enormous impact on the community, it boosted the economy and was the catalyst for improving the city’s infrastructure. It was a great source of civic pride.Image 1: The International Exhibition Sydney, 1879-1880, supplement to the Illustrated Sydney News Jan. 1880. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: DL X8/3)This bird’s eye view of the Garden Palace shows how impressive the main structure was and how much of the Gardens and Domain were occupied by ancillary buildings for the Exhibition. Based on an original drawing by John Thomas Richardson, chief engraver at the Illustrated Sydney News, this lithograph features a key identifying buildings including the Art Gallery, Machinery Hall, and Agricultural Hall. Pens and sheds for livestock can also be seen. The parade ground was used throughout the Exhibition for displays of animals. The first notable display was the International Show of Sheep featuring Australian, French and English sheep; not surprisingly the shearing demonstrations proved to be particularly popular with the community.Approximately 34 countries and their colonies participated in the Exhibition, displaying the very best examples of technology, industry and art laid out in densely packed courts (Barnet n.p.). There were approximately 14,000 exhibits (Official Record c) which included displays of Bohemian glass, tapestries, fine porcelain, fabrics, pyramids of gold, metals, minerals, wood carvings, watches, ethnographic specimens, and heavy machinery. Image 2: “Meet Me under the Dome.” Illustrated Sydney News 1 Nov. 1879: 4. Official records cite that between 19,853 and 24,000 visitors attended the Exhibition on the opening day of 17 September 1879, and over 1.1 million people visited during its seven months of operation. Sizeable numbers considering the population of the colony, at the time, was just over 700,000 (New South Wales Census).The Exhibition helped to create a sense of place and community and was a popular destination for visitors. On crowded days the base of the dome became a favourite meeting place for visitors, so much so that “meet me under the dome” became a common expression in Sydney during the Exhibition (Official Record lxxxiii).Attendance was steady and continuous throughout the course of the Exhibition and, despite exceeding the predicted cost by almost four times, the Exhibition was deemed a resounding success. The Executive Commissioner Mr P.A. Jennings remarked at the closing ceremony:this great undertaking […] marks perhaps the most important epoch that has occurred in our history. In holding this exhibition we have entered into a new arena and a race of progress among the nations of the earth, and have placed ourselves in kindly competition with the most ancient States of the old and new world. (Official Record ciii)Initially the cost of admission was set at 5 shillings and later dropped to 1 shilling. Season tickets for the Exhibition were also available for £3 3s which entitled the holder to unlimited entry during all hours of general admission. Throughout the Exhibition, season ticket holders accounted for 76,278 admissions. The Exhibition boosted the economy and encouraged authorities to improve the city’s services and facilities which helped to build a sense of community as well as pride in the achievement of such a fantastic structure. A steam-powered tramway was installed to transport exhibition-goers around the city, after the Exhibition, the tramway network was expanded and by 1905–1906 the trams were converted to electric traction (Freestone 32).After the exhibition closed, the imposing Garden Palace building was used as office space and storage for various government departments.An Icon DestroyedIn the early hours of 22 September 1882 tragedy struck when the Palace was engulfed by fire (“Destruction of the Garden Palace” 7). The building – and all its contents – destroyed.Image 3: Burning of the Garden Palace from Eaglesfield, Darlinghurst, sketched at 5.55am, Sep 22/82. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: SSV/137) Many accounts and illustrations of the Garden Palace fire can be found in contemporary newspapers and artworks. A rudimentary drawing by an unknown artist held by the State Library of New South Wales appears to have been created as the Palace was burning. The precise time and location is recorded on the painting, suggesting it was painted from Eaglesfield, a school on Darlinghurst Road. It purveys a sense of immediacy giving some insight into the chaos and heat of the tragedy. A French artist living in Sydney, Lucien Henry, was among those who attempted to capture the fire. His assistant, G.H. Aurousseau, described the event in the Technical Gazette in 1912:Mister Henry went out onto the balcony and watched until the Great Dome toppled in; it was then early morning; he went back to his studio procured a canvas, sat down and painted the whole scene in a most realistic manner, showing the fig trees in the Domain, the flames rising through the towers, the dome falling in and the reflected light of the flames all around. (Technical Gazette 33-35)The painting Henry produced is not the watercolour held by the State Library of New South Wales, however it is interesting to see how people were moved to document the destruction of such an iconic building in the city’s history.What Was Destroyed?The NSW Legislative Assembly debate of 26 September 1882, together with newspapers of the day, documented what was lost in the fire. The Garden Palace housed the foundation collection of the Technological and Sanitary Museum (the precursor to the Powerhouse Museum, now the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences), due to open on 1 December 1882. This collection included significant ethnological specimens such as Australian Indigenous artefacts, many of which were acquired from the Sydney International Exhibition. The Art Society of New South Wales had hung 300 paintings in preparation for their annual art exhibition due to open on 2 October of that year, all of these paintings consumed by fire.The Records of the Crown Lands Occupation Office were lost along with the 1881 Census (though the summary survived). Numerous railway surveys were lost, as were: £7,000 worth of statues, between 20,000 and 30,000 plants and the holdings of the Linnean Society offices and museum housed on the ground floor. The Eastern Suburbs Brass Band performed the day before at the opening of the Eastern Suburbs Horticultural Society Flower show; all the instruments were stored in the Garden Palace and were destroyed. Several Government Departments also lost significant records, including the: Fisheries Office; Mining Department; Harbour and Rivers Department; and, as mentioned, the Census Department.The fire was so ferocious that the windows in the terraces along Macquarie Street cracked with the heat and sheets of corrugated iron were blown as far away as Elizabeth Bay. How Did The Fire Start?No one knows how the fire started on that fateful September morning, and despite an official enquiry no explanation was ever delivered. One theory blamed the wealthy residents of Macquarie Street, disgruntled at losing their harbour views. Another was that it was burnt to destroy records stored in the basement of the building that contained embarrassing details about the convict heritage of many distinguished families. Margaret Lyon, daughter of the Garden Palace decorator John Lyon, wrote in her diary:a gentleman who says a boy told him when he was putting out the domain lights, that he saw a man jump out of the window and immediately after observed smoke, they are advertising for the boy […]. Everyone seems to agree on his point that it has been done on purpose – Today a safe has been found with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds, there were also some papers in it but they were considerably charred. The statue of her majesty or at least what remains of it, for it is completely ruined – the census papers were also ruined, they were ready almost to be sent to the printers, the work of 30 men for 14 months. Valuable government documents, railway and other plans all gone. (MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2) There are many eyewitness accounts of the fire that day. From nightwatchman Mr Frederick Kirchen and his replacement Mr John McKnight, to an emotional description by 14-year-old student Ethel Pockley. Although there were conflicting accounts as to where the fire may have started, it seems likely that the fire started in the basement with flames rising around the statue of Queen Victoria, situated directly under the dome. The coroner did not make a conclusive finding on the cause of the fire but was scathing of the lack of diligence by the authorities in housing such important items in a building that was not well-secured a was a potential fire hazard.Building a ReputationA number of safes were known to have been in the building storing valuables and records. One such safe, a fireproof safe manufactured by Milner and Son of Liverpool, was in the southern corner of the building near the southern tower. The contents of this safe were unscathed in contrast with the contents of other safes, the contents of which were destroyed. The Milner safe was a little discoloured and blistered on the outside but otherwise intact. “The contents included three ledgers, or journals, a few memoranda and a plan of the exhibition”—the glue was slightly melted—the plan was a little discoloured and a few loose papers were a little charred but overall the contents were “sound and unhurt”—what better advertising could one ask for! (“The Garden Palace Fire” 5).barrangal dyara (skin and bones): Rebuilding CommunityThe positive developments for Sydney and the colony that stemmed from the building and its exhibition, such as public transport and community spirit, grew and took new forms. Yet, in the years since 1882 the memory of the Garden Palace and its disaster faded from the consciousness of the Sydney community. The great loss felt by Indigenous communities went unresolved.Image 4: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Image credit: Sarah Morley.In September 2016 artist Jonathan Jones presented barrangal dyara (skin and bones), a large scale sculptural installation on the site of the Garden Palace Building in Sydney’s Royal Botanic Garden. The installation was Jones’s response to the immense loss felt throughout Australia with the destruction of countless Aboriginal objects in the fire. The installation featured thousands of bleached white shields made of gypsum that were laid out to show the footprint of the Garden Palace and represent the rubble left after the fire.Based on four typical designs from Aboriginal nations of the south-east, these shields not only raise the chalky bones of the building, but speak to the thousands of shields that would have had cultural presence in this landscape over generations. (Pike 33)ConclusionSydney’s Garden Palace was a stunning addition to the skyline of colonial Sydney. A massive undertaking, the Palace opened, to great acclaim, in 1879 and its effect on the community of Sydney and indeed the colony of New South Wales was sizeable. There were brief discussions, just after the fire, about rebuilding this great structure in a more permanent fashion for the centenary Exhibition in 1888 (“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales” 5). Ultimately, it was decided that this achievement of the colony of New South Wales would be recorded in history, gifting a legacy of national pride and positivity on the one hand, but on the other an example of the destructive colonial impact on Indigenous communities. For many Sydney-siders today this history is as obscured as the original foundations of the physical building. What we build—iconic structures, civic pride, a sense of community—require maintenance and remembering. References“Among the Machinery.” The Sydney Mail and New South Wales Advertiser 10 Jan. 1880: 70-71.Aurousseau, G.H. “Lucien Henry: First Lecturer in Art at the Sydney Technical College.” Technical Gazette 2.III (1912): 33-35.Barnet, James. International Exhibition, Sydney, 1880: References to the Plans Showing the Space and Position Occupied by the Various Exhibits in the Garden Palace. Sydney: Colonial Architect’s Office, 1880.“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes.” The Singleton Argus and Upper Hunter General Advocate 23 Apr. 1879: 2.Census Department. New South Wales Census. 1881. 3 Mar. 2017 <http://hccda.ada.edu.au/pages/NSW-1881-census-02_vi>. “Destruction of the Garden Palace.” Sydney Morning Herald 23 Sep. 1882: 7.Freestone, Robert. “Space Society and Urban Reform.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing P, 2000. 15-33.“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales.” The Age (Melbourne, Vic.) 30 Sep. 1882: 5.“The Garden Palace Fire.” Sydney Morning Herald 25 Sep. 1882: 5.Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 1 Nov. 1879: 4.“International Exhibition.” Australian Town and Country Journal 15 Feb. 1879: 11.Kent, H.C. “Reminiscences of Building Methods in the Seventies under John Young. Lecture.” Architecture: An Australian Magazine of Architecture and the Arts Nov. (1924): 5-13.Lyon, Margaret. Unpublished Manuscript Diary. MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2.New South Wales, Legislative Assembly. Debates 22 Sep. 1882: 542-56.Notes on the Sydney International Exhibition of 1879. Melbourne: Government Printer, 1881.Official Record of the Sydney International Exhibition 1879. Sydney: Government Printer, 1881.Pike, Emma. “barrangal dyara (skin and bones).” Jonathan Jones: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Eds. Ross Gibson, Jonathan Jones, and Genevieve O’Callaghan. Balmain: Kaldor Public Arts Project, 2016.Pont, Graham, and Peter Proudfoot. “The Technological Movement and the Garden Palace.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing Press, 2000. 239-249.“View from the Lantern of the Dome of the Exhibition.” Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 9 Aug. 1879: 8.

By the time you read this, it will be wrong. Things seemed to be moving so fast in these first days after airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the Pennsylvania earth. Each certainty is as carelessly dropped as it was once carelessly assumed. The sounds of lower Manhattan that used to serve as white noise for residents—sirens, screeches, screams—are no longer signs without a referent. Instead, they make folks stare and stop, hurry and hustle, wondering whether the noises we know so well are in fact, this time, coefficients of a new reality. At the time of writing, the events themselves are also signs without referents—there has been no direct claim of responsibility, and little proof offered by accusers since the 11th. But it has been assumed that there is a link to US foreign policy, its military and economic presence in the Arab world, and opposition to it that seeks revenge. In the intervening weeks the US media and the war planners have supplied their own narrow frameworks, making New York’s “ground zero” into the starting point for a new escalation of global violence. We want to write here about the combination of sources and sensations that came that day, and the jumble of knowledges and emotions that filled our minds. Working late the night before, Toby was awoken in the morning by one of the planes right overhead. That happens sometimes. I have long expected a crash when I’ve heard the roar of jet engines so close—but I didn’t this time. Often when that sound hits me, I get up and go for a run down by the water, just near Wall Street. Something kept me back that day. Instead, I headed for my laptop. Because I cannot rely on local media to tell me very much about the role of the US in world affairs, I was reading the British newspaper The Guardian on-line when it flashed a two-line report about the planes. I looked up at the calendar above my desk to see whether it was April 1st. Truly. Then I got off-line and turned on the TV to watch CNN. That second, the phone rang. My quasi-ex-girlfriend I’m still in love with called from the mid-West. She was due to leave that day for the Bay Area. Was I alright? We spoke for a bit. She said my cell phone was out, and indeed it was for the remainder of the day. As I hung up from her, my friend Ana rang, tearful and concerned. Her husband, Patrick, had left an hour before for work in New Jersey, and it seemed like a dangerous separation. All separations were potentially fatal that day. You wanted to know where everyone was, every minute. She told me she had been trying to contact Palestinian friends who worked and attended school near the event—their ethnic, religious, and national backgrounds made for real poignancy, as we both thought of the prejudice they would (probably) face, regardless of the eventual who/what/when/where/how of these events. We agreed to meet at Bruno’s, a bakery on La Guardia Place. For some reason I really took my time, though, before getting to Ana. I shampooed and shaved under the shower. This was a horror, and I needed to look my best, even as men and women were losing and risking their lives. I can only interpret what I did as an attempt to impose normalcy and control on the situation, on my environment. When I finally made it down there, she’d located our friends. They were safe. We stood in the street and watched the Towers. Horrified by the sight of human beings tumbling to their deaths, we turned to buy a tea/coffee—again some ludicrous normalization—but were drawn back by chilling screams from the street. Racing outside, we saw the second Tower collapse, and clutched at each other. People were streaming towards us from further downtown. We decided to be with our Palestinian friends in their apartment. When we arrived, we learnt that Mark had been four minutes away from the WTC when the first plane hit. I tried to call my daughter in London and my father in Canberra, but to no avail. I rang the mid-West, and asked my maybe-former novia to call England and Australia to report in on me. Our friend Jenine got through to relatives on the West Bank. Israeli tanks had commenced a bombardment there, right after the planes had struck New York. Family members spoke to her from under the kitchen table, where they were taking refuge from the shelling of their house. Then we gave ourselves over to television, like so many others around the world, even though these events were happening only a mile away. We wanted to hear official word, but there was just a huge absence—Bush was busy learning to read in Florida, then leading from the front in Louisiana and Nebraska. As the day wore on, we split up and regrouped, meeting folks. One guy was in the subway when smoke filled the car. Noone could breathe properly, people were screaming, and his only thought was for his dog DeNiro back in Brooklyn. From the panic of the train, he managed to call his mom on a cell to ask her to feed “DeNiro” that night, because it looked like he wouldn’t get home. A pregnant woman feared for her unborn as she fled the blasts, pushing the stroller with her baby in it as she did so. Away from these heart-rending tales from strangers, there was the fear: good grief, what horrible price would the US Government extract for this, and who would be the overt and covert agents and targets of that suffering? What blood-lust would this generate? What would be the pattern of retaliation and counter-retaliation? What would become of civil rights and cultural inclusiveness? So a jumble of emotions came forward, I assume in all of us. Anger was not there for me, just intense sorrow, shock, and fear, and the desire for intimacy. Network television appeared to offer me that, but in an ultimately unsatisfactory way. For I think I saw the end-result of reality TV that day. I have since decided to call this ‘emotionalization’—network TV’s tendency to substitute analysis of US politics and economics with a stress on feelings. Of course, powerful emotions have been engaged by this horror, and there is value in addressing that fact and letting out the pain. I certainly needed to do so. But on that day and subsequent ones, I looked to the networks, traditional sources of current-affairs knowledge, for just that—informed, multi-perspectival journalism that would allow me to make sense of my feelings, and come to a just and reasoned decision about how the US should respond. I waited in vain. No such commentary came forward. Just a lot of asinine inquiries from reporters that were identical to those they pose to basketballers after a game: Question—‘How do you feel now?’ Answer—‘God was with me today.’ For the networks were insistent on asking everyone in sight how they felt about the end of las torres gemelas. In this case, we heard the feelings of survivors, firefighters, viewers, media mavens, Republican and Democrat hacks, and vacuous Beltway state-of-the-nation pundits. But learning of the military-political economy, global inequality, and ideologies and organizations that made for our grief and loss—for that, there was no space. TV had forgotten how to do it. My principal feeling soon became one of frustration. So I headed back to where I began the day—The Guardian web site, where I was given insightful analysis of the messy factors of history, religion, economics, and politics that had created this situation. As I dealt with the tragedy of folks whose lives had been so cruelly lost, I pondered what it would take for this to stop. Or whether this was just the beginning. I knew one thing—the answers wouldn’t come from mainstream US television, no matter how full of feelings it was. And that made Toby anxious. And afraid. He still is. And so the dreams come. In one, I am suddenly furloughed from my job with an orchestra, as audience numbers tumble. I make my evening-wear way to my locker along with the other players, emptying it of bubble gum and instrument. The next night, I see a gigantic, fifty-feet high wave heading for the city beach where I’ve come to swim. Somehow I am sheltered behind a huge wall, as all the people around me die. Dripping, I turn to find myself in a media-stereotype “crack house” of the early ’90s—desperate-looking black men, endless doorways, sudden police arrival, and my earnest search for a passport that will explain away my presence. I awake in horror, to the realization that the passport was already open and stamped—racialization at work for Toby, every day and in every way, as a white man in New York City. Ana’s husband, Patrick, was at work ten miles from Manhattan when “it” happened. In the hallway, I overheard some talk about two planes crashing, but went to teach anyway in my usual morning stupor. This was just the usual chatter of disaster junkies. I didn’t hear the words, “World Trade Center” until ten thirty, at the end of the class at the college I teach at in New Jersey, across the Hudson river. A friend and colleague walked in and told me the news of the attack, to which I replied “You must be fucking joking.” He was a little offended. Students were milling haphazardly on the campus in the late summer weather, some looking panicked like me. My first thought was of some general failure of the air-traffic control system. There must be planes falling out of the sky all over the country. Then the height of the towers: how far towards our apartment in Greenwich Village would the towers fall? Neither of us worked in the financial district a mile downtown, but was Ana safe? Where on the college campus could I see what was happening? I recognized the same physical sensation I had felt the morning after Hurricane Andrew in Miami seeing at a distance the wreckage of our shattered apartment across a suburban golf course strewn with debris and flattened power lines. Now I was trapped in the suburbs again at an unbridgeable distance from my wife and friends who were witnessing the attacks first hand. Were they safe? What on earth was going on? This feeling of being cut off, my path to the familiar places of home blocked, remained for weeks my dominant experience of the disaster. In my office, phone calls to the city didn’t work. There were six voice-mail messages from my teenaged brother Alex in small-town England giving a running commentary on the attack and its aftermath that he was witnessing live on television while I dutifully taught my writing class. “Hello, Patrick, where are you? Oh my god, another plane just hit the towers. Where are you?” The web was choked: no access to newspapers online. Email worked, but no one was wasting time writing. My office window looked out over a soccer field to the still woodlands of western New Jersey: behind me to the east the disaster must be unfolding. Finally I found a website with a live stream from ABC television, which I watched flickering and stilted on the tiny screen. It had all already happened: both towers already collapsed, the Pentagon attacked, another plane shot down over Pennsylvania, unconfirmed reports said, there were other hijacked aircraft still out there unaccounted for. Manhattan was sealed off. George Washington Bridge, Lincoln and Holland tunnels, all the bridges and tunnels from New Jersey I used to mock shut down. Police actions sealed off the highways into “the city.” The city I liked to think of as the capital of the world was cut off completely from the outside, suddenly vulnerable and under siege. There was no way to get home. The phone rang abruptly and Alex, three thousand miles away, told me he had spoken to Ana earlier and she was safe. After a dozen tries, I managed to get through and spoke to her, learning that she and Toby had seen people jumping and then the second tower fall. Other friends had been even closer. Everyone was safe, we thought. I sat for another couple of hours in my office uselessly. The news was incoherent, stories contradictory, loops of the planes hitting the towers only just ready for recycling. The attacks were already being transformed into “the World Trade Center Disaster,” not yet the ahistorical singularity of the emergency “nine one one.” Stranded, I had to spend the night in New Jersey at my boss’s house, reminded again of the boundless generosity of Americans to relative strangers. In an effort to protect his young son from the as yet unfiltered images saturating cable and Internet, my friend’s TV set was turned off and we did our best to reassure. We listened surreptitiously to news bulletins on AM radio, hoping that the roads would open. Walking the dog with my friend’s wife and son we crossed a park on the ridge on which Upper Montclair sits. Ten miles away a huge column of smoke was rising from lower Manhattan, where the stunning absence of the towers was clearly visible. The summer evening was unnervingly still. We kicked a soccer ball around on the front lawn and a woman walked distracted by, shocked and pale up the tree-lined suburban street, suffering her own wordless trauma. I remembered that though most of my students were ordinary working people, Montclair is a well-off dormitory for the financial sector and high rises of Wall Street and Midtown. For the time being, this was a white-collar disaster. I slept a short night in my friend’s house, waking to hope I had dreamed it all, and took the commuter train in with shell-shocked bankers and corporate types. All men, all looking nervously across the river toward glimpses of the Manhattan skyline as the train neared Hoboken. “I can’t believe they’re making us go in,” one guy had repeated on the station platform. He had watched the attacks from his office in Midtown, “The whole thing.” Inside the train we all sat in silence. Up from the PATH train station on 9th street I came onto a carless 6th Avenue. At 14th street barricades now sealed off downtown from the rest of the world. I walked down the middle of the avenue to a newspaper stand; the Indian proprietor shrugged “No deliveries below 14th.” I had not realized that the closer to the disaster you came, the less information would be available. Except, I assumed, for the evidence of my senses. But at 8 am the Village was eerily still, few people about, nothing in the sky, including the twin towers. I walked to Houston Street, which was full of trucks and police vehicles. Tractor trailers sat carrying concrete barriers. Below Houston, each street into Soho was barricaded and manned by huddles of cops. I had walked effortlessly up into the “lockdown,” but this was the “frozen zone.” There was no going further south towards the towers. I walked the few blocks home, found my wife sleeping, and climbed into bed, still in my clothes from the day before. “Your heart is racing,” she said. I realized that I hadn’t known if I would get back, and now I never wanted to leave again; it was still only eight thirty am. Lying there, I felt the terrible wonder of a distant bystander for the first-hand witness. Ana’s face couldn’t tell me what she had seen. I felt I needed to know more, to see and understand. Even though I knew the effort was useless: I could never bridge that gap that had trapped me ten miles away, my back turned to the unfolding disaster. The television was useless: we don’t have cable, and the mast on top of the North Tower, which Ana had watched fall, had relayed all the network channels. I knew I had to go down and see the wreckage. Later I would realize how lucky I had been not to suffer from “disaster envy.” Unbelievably, in retrospect, I commuted into work the second day after the attack, dogged by the same unnerving sensation that I would not get back—to the wounded, humbled former center of the world. My students were uneasy, all talked out. I was a novelty, a New Yorker living in the Village a mile from the towers, but I was forty-eight hours late. Out of place in both places. I felt torn up, but not angry. Back in the city at night, people were eating and drinking with a vengeance, the air filled with acrid sicklysweet smoke from the burning wreckage. Eyes stang and nose ran with a bitter acrid taste. Who knows what we’re breathing in, we joked nervously. A friend’s wife had fallen out with him for refusing to wear a protective mask in the house. He shrugged a wordlessly reassuring smile. What could any of us do? I walked with Ana down to the top of West Broadway from where the towers had commanded the skyline over SoHo; downtown dense smoke blocked the view to the disaster. A crowd of onlookers pushed up against the barricades all day, some weeping, others gawping. A tall guy was filming the grieving faces with a video camera, which was somehow the worst thing of all, the first sign of the disaster tourism that was already mushrooming downtown. Across the street an Asian artist sat painting the street scene in streaky black and white; he had scrubbed out two white columns where the towers would have been. “That’s the first thing I’ve seen that’s made me feel any better,” Ana said. We thanked him, but he shrugged blankly, still in shock I supposed. On the Friday, the clampdown. I watched the Mayor and Police Chief hold a press conference in which they angrily told the stream of volunteers to “ground zero” that they weren’t needed. “We can handle this ourselves. We thank you. But we don’t need your help,” Commissioner Kerik said. After the free-for-all of the first couple of days, with its amazing spontaneities and common gestures of goodwill, the clampdown was going into effect. I decided to go down to Canal Street and see if it was true that no one was welcome anymore. So many paths through the city were blocked now. “Lock down, frozen zone, war zone, the site, combat zone, ground zero, state troopers, secured perimeter, national guard, humvees, family center”: a disturbing new vocabulary that seemed to stamp the logic of Giuliani’s sanitized and over-policed Manhattan onto the wounded hulk of the city. The Mayor had been magnificent in the heat of the crisis; Churchillian, many were saying—and indeed, Giuliani quickly appeared on the cover of Cigar Afficionado, complete with wing collar and the misquotation from Kipling, “Captain Courageous.” Churchill had not believed in peacetime politics either, and he never got over losing his empire. Now the regime of command and control over New York’s citizens and its economy was being stabilized and reimposed. The sealed-off, disfigured, and newly militarized spaces of the New York through which I have always loved to wander at all hours seemed to have been put beyond reach for the duration. And, in the new post-“9/11” post-history, the duration could last forever. The violence of the attacks seemed to have elicited a heavy-handed official reaction that sought to contain and constrict the best qualities of New York. I felt more anger at the clampdown than I did at the demolition of the towers. I knew this was unreasonable, but I feared the reaction, the spread of the racial harassment and racial profiling that I had already heard of from my students in New Jersey. This militarizing of the urban landscape seemed to negate the sprawling, freewheeling, boundless largesse and tolerance on which New York had complacently claimed a monopoly. For many the towers stood for that as well, not just as the monumental outposts of global finance that had been attacked. Could the American flag mean something different? For a few days, perhaps—on the helmets of firemen and construction workers. But not for long. On the Saturday, I found an unmanned barricade way east along Canal Street and rode my bike past throngs of Chinatown residents, by the Federal jail block where prisoners from the first World Trade Center bombing were still being held. I headed south and west towards Tribeca; below the barricades in the frozen zone, you could roam freely, the cops and soldiers assuming you belonged there. I felt uneasy, doubting my own motives for being there, feeling the blood drain from my head in the same numbing shock I’d felt every time I headed downtown towards the site. I looped towards Greenwich Avenue, passing an abandoned bank full of emergency supplies and boxes of protective masks. Crushed cars still smeared with pulverized concrete and encrusted with paperwork strewn by the blast sat on the street near the disabled telephone exchange. On one side of the avenue stood a horde of onlookers, on the other television crews, all looking two blocks south towards a colossal pile of twisted and smoking steel, seven stories high. We were told to stay off the street by long-suffering national guardsmen and women with southern accents, kids. Nothing happening, just the aftermath. The TV crews were interviewing worn-out, dust-covered volunteers and firemen who sat quietly leaning against the railings of a park filled with scraps of paper. Out on the West Side highway, a high-tech truck was offering free cellular phone calls. The six lanes by the river were full of construction machinery and military vehicles. Ambulances rolled slowly uptown, bodies inside? I locked my bike redundantly to a lamppost and crossed under the hostile gaze of plainclothes police to another media encampment. On the path by the river, two camera crews were complaining bitterly in the heat. “After five days of this I’ve had enough.” They weren’t talking about the trauma, bodies, or the wreckage, but censorship. “Any blue light special gets to roll right down there, but they see your press pass and it’s get outta here. I’ve had enough.” I fronted out the surly cops and ducked under the tape onto the path, walking onto a Pier on which we’d spent many lazy afternoons watching the river at sunset. Dust everywhere, police boats docked and waiting, a crane ominously dredging mud into a barge. I walked back past the camera operators onto the highway and walked up to an interview in process. Perfectly composed, a fire chief and his crew from some small town in upstate New York were politely declining to give details about what they’d seen at “ground zero.” The men’s faces were dust streaked, their eyes slightly dazed with the shock of a horror previously unimaginable to most Americans. They were here to help the best they could, now they’d done as much as anyone could. “It’s time for us to go home.” The chief was eloquent, almost rehearsed in his precision. It was like a Magnum press photo. But he was refusing to cooperate with the media’s obsessive emotionalism. I walked down the highway, joining construction workers, volunteers, police, and firemen in their hundreds at Chambers Street. No one paid me any attention; it was absurd. I joined several other watchers on the stairs by Stuyvesant High School, which was now the headquarters for the recovery crews. Just two or three blocks away, the huge jagged teeth of the towers’ beautiful tracery lurched out onto the highway above huge mounds of debris. The TV images of the shattered scene made sense as I placed them into what was left of a familiar Sunday afternoon geography of bike rides and walks by the river, picnics in the park lying on the grass and gazing up at the infinite solidity of the towers. Demolished. It was breathtaking. If “they” could do that, they could do anything. Across the street at tables military policeman were checking credentials of the milling volunteers and issuing the pink and orange tags that gave access to ground zero. Without warning, there was a sudden stampede running full pelt up from the disaster site, men and women in fatigues, burly construction workers, firemen in bunker gear. I ran a few yards then stopped. Other people milled around idly, ignoring the panic, smoking and talking in low voices. It was a mainly white, blue-collar scene. All these men wearing flags and carrying crowbars and flashlights. In their company, the intolerance and rage I associated with flags and construction sites was nowhere to be seen. They were dealing with a torn and twisted otherness that dwarfed machismo or bigotry. I talked to a moustachioed, pony-tailed construction worker who’d hitched a ride from the mid-west to “come and help out.” He was staying at the Y, he said, it was kind of rough. “Have you been down there?” he asked, pointing towards the wreckage. “You’re British, you weren’t in World War Two were you?” I replied in the negative. “It’s worse ’n that. I went down last night and you can’t imagine it. You don’t want to see it if you don’t have to.” Did I know any welcoming ladies? he asked. The Y was kind of tough. When I saw TV images of President Bush speaking to the recovery crews and steelworkers at “ground zero” a couple of days later, shouting through a bullhorn to chants of “USA, USA” I knew nothing had changed. New York’s suffering was subject to a second hijacking by the brokers of national unity. New York had never been America, and now its terrible human loss and its great humanity were redesignated in the name of the nation, of the coming war. The signs without a referent were being forcibly appropriated, locked into an impoverished patriotic framework, interpreted for “us” by a compliant media and an opportunistic regime eager to reign in civil liberties, to unloose its war machine and tighten its grip on the Muslim world. That day, drawn to the river again, I had watched F18 fighter jets flying patterns over Manhattan as Bush’s helicopters came in across the river. Otherwise empty of air traffic, “our” skies were being torn up by the military jets: it was somehow the worst sight yet, worse than the wreckage or the bands of disaster tourists on Canal Street, a sign of further violence yet to come. There was a carrier out there beyond New York harbor, there to protect us: the bruising, blustering city once open to all comers. That felt worst of all. In the intervening weeks, we have seen other, more unstable ways of interpreting the signs of September 11 and its aftermath. Many have circulated on the Internet, past the blockages and blockades placed on urban spaces and intellectual life. Karl-Heinz Stockhausen’s work was banished (at least temporarily) from the canon of avant-garde electronic music when he described the attack on las torres gemelas as akin to a work of art. If Jacques Derrida had described it as an act of deconstruction (turning technological modernity literally in on itself), or Jean Baudrillard had announced that the event was so thick with mediation it had not truly taken place, something similar would have happened to them (and still may). This is because, as Don DeLillo so eloquently put it in implicit reaction to the plaintive cry “Why do they hate us?”: “it is the power of American culture to penetrate every wall, home, life and mind”—whether via military action or cultural iconography. All these positions are correct, however grisly and annoying they may be. What GK Chesterton called the “flints and tiles” of nineteenth-century European urban existence were rent asunder like so many victims of high-altitude US bombing raids. As a First-World disaster, it became knowable as the first-ever US “ground zero” such precisely through the high premium immediately set on the lives of Manhattan residents and the rarefied discussion of how to commemorate the high-altitude towers. When, a few weeks later, an American Airlines plane crashed on take-off from Queens, that borough was left open to all comers. Manhattan was locked down, flown over by “friendly” bombers. In stark contrast to the open if desperate faces on the street of 11 September, people went about their business with heads bowed even lower than is customary. Contradictory deconstructions and valuations of Manhattan lives mean that September 11 will live in infamy and hyper-knowability. The vengeful United States government and population continue on their way. Local residents must ponder insurance claims, real-estate values, children’s terrors, and their own roles in something beyond their ken. New York had been forced beyond being the center of the financial world. It had become a military target, a place that was receiving as well as dispatching the slings and arrows of global fortune. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Deer, Patrick and Miller, Toby. "A Day That Will Live In … ?" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.1 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/adaythat.php>. Chicago Style Deer, Patrick and Miller, Toby, "A Day That Will Live In … ?" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 1 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/adaythat.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Deer, Patrick and Miller, Toby. (2002) A Day That Will Live In … ?. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(1). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/adaythat.php> ([your date of access]).