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I enjoy watching Â鶹ÊÓƵsport, debating, dance, choir … (and the list meanders on) – from the sideline. There is joy in watching without responsibility. It does not, as Mr Tregaskis would attest, mean that I do not wince when I see what I believe to be, an incorrect umpire’s decision. You have no idea how much I will miss standing on the sideline observing young people learning to be. After all, these performance arenas are just that – places of becoming. That is, when we, as adults don’t mess with ‘the becoming.’ In anticipation of losing my legitimate reason to watch Â鶹ÊÓƵplay anything, perform anything … I am concentrating on the privilege of the moment. I am soaking in the delights of fiercely contested debating finals, narrow wins and losses on the courts and fields of Toowoomba where the temperature is always colder or hotter than forecast and, the unparalleled joy of Junior School girls dancing on stage without inhibition, some perfectly attuned with the music’s beat and other’s not. I am absorbing the opportunity to witness learning at its essence. Performance in sport or The Arts is a public event. If your artwork is hung in a gallery space it is ‘public’ – open to be appreciated or criticised. If one is singing, dancing, debating or playing an instrument on stage with an audience there is nowhere to hide if an error is made. And, on a court or field – one’s performance is open to scrutiny or praise – or everything in between. Becoming is core business at these times. Anthony Simcoe, perhaps best known for his role as Steve in the epic Australian film, ‘The Castle’ with lines like, “Dale dug a hole, Dad,” or “How much for jousting sticks?” was a gangly fifteen-year-old boy when I first met him at Burnside State High School in Nambour, where he was seeking to master the volleyball dig, serve and set. Who would have imagined his becoming? Even years on, Anthony would say that he learned to become an actor through washing dishes at cafes – earning money between acting jobs – learning to observe the humanness in his customers. He washed a lot of dishes and served a lot of tables in order to become a credible member of ‘The Castle’s’ Kerrigan family. In tedious hours he learned about people and about hard, repetitive work. Repetition is the underpinning pattern of rehearsal and practice. Some of us do it well, others not so. I hear it in action many mornings as I pass the Performing Arts building, I see it on mornings and afternoons in our gym and on our oval. Rehearsal. Practice. Becoming. It is far more palpable; it would seem, than our classroom learning which inhabits a far more private space: often behind a closed door. How special it was, a few weeks ago, to invite the parents of Year 12.1 English to join their daughter, Mrs Anderson and I for a Period Five Friday afternoon lesson of ‘Macbeth.’ Seated in a huge circle in the confines of G24, students directed the lesson: spelling, quotations, thematic discussions and questions, for their parent and the other class members. It was an impressive moment (from a teacher’s perspective anyway) – to see students demonstrate their knowledge in a semi-public forum. It was timely for parents, no doubt, to remember the awkwardness of not knowing an answer, the joy of accuracy as well as the discomfort of feedback about an incorrect assumption – these are aspects of learning with which our students grapple, daily … as they become. There was delight in sharing the messiness of learning, the non-linear path of knowledge and how these segue to ‘becoming.’ Although, that moment of self-actualisation we seek or reaching the mountain top does not come at the same time or in the same way for any of us. And we have to be patient from our sideline position. We have to trust the process. We have to remember also, that losing and missing out are important components of future winning. We have to remember in the words of Saint Ignatius Loyola, Spanish Priest, theologian and thinker, “we learn only when we are ready to learn.” St. Ignatius reminds us that education is not confined to classrooms; it can happen anywhere and at any time: if we allow it. And thus, as adults, as we inhabit more than our fair share of sidelines real and metaphoric, during the rundown to the finish line, let us all be gracious in allowing our young people ‘to become’ … a process that is uneven, at times uncomfortable, messy, deeply disappointing and … often wildly exhilarating. Let us enjoy each and every facet and be gracious in the spaces where alignment with expectation is not met in performance or outcome. It is here, in this place, which can feel unpleasant, unsatisfactory and uninvited that the greatest learning and hence the greatest opportunity to become, can occur. If we, as adults who should know better, don’t mess with ‘the becoming.’ “Another ball game lost! Good grief!” Charlie moans. “I get tired of losing. Everything I do, I lose!” “Look at it this way, Charlie Brown,” Lucy replies. “We learn more from losing than we do from winning.” “That makes me the smartest person in the world!” replies Charlie. Win some. Learn some. Become. Dr Linda Evans │Principal  REFERENCE Maxwell, J. (2013) On Turning a Loss into a Gain | Adapted from Sometimes You Win, Sometimes You Learn (October 2013)

Dear Members of the Â鶹ÊÓƵFamily I am pleased to inform you of an important development at Â鶹ÊÓƵCollege on behalf of the Â鶹ÊÓƵCollege Board. After an extensive search process, the Board of Directors is delighted to announce the appointment of Dr Leigh Hobart as the new Principal of Â鶹ÊÓƵCollege, effective from April 2025. Dr Leigh Hobart is a seasoned educator who is returning to Toowoomba, bringing with her over 30 years of experience in the field of education. As a sixth-generation Toowoomba resident, Leigh has deep connections to the Darling Downs region and is excited to rejoin this vibrant community. Throughout her extensive career, Dr Hobart has held various significant roles in education, most recently serving as Deputy Headmaster – Academic Performance and Innovation at Brisbane Boys' College. With a focus on developing an inclusive and collaborative culture, Dr Hobart has led various initiatives that have had a profound impact. From introducing a phonics-based reading and writing program in the early years to negotiating the implementation of the Queensland Senior School curriculum, she has consistently demonstrated her commitment to excellence and innovation. Her professional journey has been driven by a deep passion for leading learning communities where students and staff can flourish. She firmly believes in the transformative power of education and its role as fundamental to a high-functioning and progressive society. Dr Hobart's dedication to student improvement and success is a testament to her passion and commitment. She values integrity, respect, professionalism, and lifelong learning, creating a solid foundation for her leadership journey. Her highly developed interpersonal skills and collaborative approach have earned her the admiration and respect of the community, staff, and students at the schools she has served. Dr Hobart's expertise extends beyond her leadership roles, as she has actively engaged in research, initial teacher education accreditation, and professional development networks. Her academic achievements, including an Education Doctorate from QUT and a Master of Education, further enhance her ability to lead and inspire others. As Dr Hobart continues to make an impact in the field of education, she hopes to inspire young women to pursue their dreams with passion and determination. Her journey is a testament to the power of resilience, hard work, and belief in oneself. She firmly believes that every young woman has the potential to achieve and make a positive difference in the world and looks forward to engaging with the Â鶹ÊÓƵcommunity to add value to their already vibrant school. I would also like to acknowledge our current Principal, Dr Linda Evans, for her dedication and commitment to our community during this transition period. Her humility, professionalism and capacity to inspire students and staff will live on well into the future. Thank you for your ongoing support and commitment to Â鶹ÊÓƵCollege. We are confident that under Dr Hobart's leadership, our school will continue to thrive and provide an exceptional educational experience for all our students. Yours sincerely Ian Andersen | Chairman

When my daughter was twenty-one, she began her teaching career at an Autism specialty school in Brixton, London. She would ring – often for advice, for debriefing, for re-setting – the school she was at was classified as being in Special Measures – it was being inspected most weeks by OFSTED and was close to closure. The staff had to make big changes to practice to get the school functioning again. To do so was tough. Redirecting our habits and practices is tough. Sometimes she would ring and describe her day – a chair thrown across the room, desks thrown out of windows, students exploding with frustration. Vastly different from Fairholme. But my advice to her – as it is to all - was this: Show up. Keep showing up. When we show up, even when it’s hard we learn a lot about ourselves and others. The kids at her school in Brixton, London – needed teachers to show up, they needed people to notice them, they needed interest, care, attention. Basic needs for us all. They needed to know that they mattered. Mattering is a fresh take on its noun cousin – matter and has a psychological science behind it too. Mattering is, according to Dr Flett, a York University professor and author of the text – “The Psychology of Mattering,” a core, universal human need. It runs more deeply than purpose, or connection or belonging – it runs to being “missed by people in your group if you aren’t there.” In the bliss of Olympic watching, I have been struck over and over again, by the value of family in the success of athletes: their mattering. I watched Ariarne Titmus’ family breathe through every stroke in her 400-metre final, and delighted when Jess Fox, having blitzed the canoe slalom K1 final, paid tribute to her family. On her helmet are the words – “Ma petite est comme l’eau, elle est comme l’eau vive,” translating to “My little girl is like the water, she’s like the white water.” These words belong to a song her Papi (grandfather) sang to her as a small child.In some ways, singing her into her future. Those words have weight for her, they are mattering words. Jess’ father, also an Olympian said something to the effect of, “I’m proud of her achievement but most of all, I’m proud of who she is as a person.” These are ultimately the things that matter most: family, connection, purpose, belief. The things we say, do, our actions and our reactions as parents, matter. Yet, we parent on the run, don’t we. In the midst of the pace and chaos of life we are setting the tone, the tenor and the trajectory of our children’s lives. Our responses – each and all become the frame and filter of their worldview. We often hear that the first 1000 days of parenting are the most formative, foundational - get them wrong and we have missed the moment. Every 1000 days of our children’s lives, matter – even when they enter their thirties, as mine have. Hopefully, we have the privilege of parenting our children long into their futures and that we continue to show up for them, because in that example, we are enabling them to do the same. In effect, we are engaging in the process of mattering. Show me your friends, show me your family – and I will have a glimpse into your future because I will have a sense of what matters to you. Perhaps, a little like Jess Fox’s Papi who sang her into a love of white water, every step we take as parents, every word we speak, every action we undertake is about demonstrating mattering. Even in those tough moments, those hard conversations and those testing times we need to show up. We need to keep showing up. When we do, what a wonderful example we are etching in our children’s character.  Show up. Keep showing up.

“Act well your part; there all the honour lies.” Alexander Pope

When Melinda Tankard-Reist spoke to parents from Fairholme, Glennie and Toowoomba Grammar, at Â鶹ÊÓƵa few weeks ago, she posed the question, “Are you finding parenting easy?”

Every time we rescue, hover, or otherwise save our children from a challenge, we send a very clear message: that we believe they are incompetent, incapable, and unworthy of our trust.

Adolescents have a discerning response to the sound of their mother’s voice, and they seek it out, particularly in stressful times... As a strong-willed and sometimes feisty teenager my daughter would say from time-to-time, “You don’t have to yell at me.” Bewildered, I would check with my husband who would shrug his shoulders in mute despair, saying, "Your voice wasn’t even remotely loud.”

Please Just Say You’re Proud Of Me I could say, justifiably so, that I was so proud of Â鶹ÊÓƵlast Tuesday, as we shared Sess’ Memorial service together, in community. Far better to say: I am proud to be part of the Â鶹ÊÓƵcommunity. Even better to say: I am so grateful to be part of the Â鶹ÊÓƵcommunity. I was struck by both a depth of grief and a depth of gratitude that sat dichotomously together, strangely in alignment. It is possible to feel both emotions at once, I discovered. That I was sad, that we were collectively sad, comes as no surprise to anyone who crossed paths with this man who grew self-belief in so many, inspired hope in so many and cared for so many. That is a given. What surprised me more, was the groundswell of gratitude I felt for those who shared that moment, and particularly the courage of our students who took to the stage or formed the guard of honour or performed one last Jump’n’Jive for the teacher/mentor/coach they revered. In sharing grief, there is bravery. How could one not feel grateful to be a part of such a community? Yet, just on Friday, I attended a conference focused on Parent Engagement, one of the presenters referred to a text ‘Please Just Say You’re Proud of Me: Perspectives of Young People on Parent Engagement and Doing Well at School’ produced by the Australian Research Alliance for Children and Youth in 2019. It was the phrase ‘please just say you’re proud of me’ that I couldn’t shake throughout the day. It is that almost plaintive voice that sits within us all, as we seek our parents’ approval, at almost any stage or age of life: the need to please our parents. Whilst this can be a motivator, a signifier of our love for mum and dad, it can also cause “high degrees of stress and anxiety” (Roy, Barker, and Stafford, 2019). It is unsurprising that students find parental vested interest in them, their schooling, their successes - a source of additional pressure. How easy it is, to interchange the words proud and grateful without being awareness of the difference in meaning. And there is. Seeking affirmation can have its downside, particularly as children enter adolescence (deemed to be around the age of 9 to 13) and start to “detach from childhood,” (Pickhardt, 2015) seeking out independence, and a sense of self not entwined with their parents. It is at this time that hearing those words, “We are proud of you,” or “I am proud of you,” can be the metaphoric double-edged sword compliment. There is a sweetness in pleasing our parents, but this can easily wend its way to the anxiety-inducing thoughts – “I have to please my parents at all costs.” “I can’t bear to let my parents down.” At worst, it can also be a time where parents absorb “personal credit” (Pickhardt, 2015) for their child’s achievements, where a parent’s own self esteem rests precariously upon the successes or perceived failures of their child. Of course, as parents, we cannot disentangle ourselves from our children, that is simply an impossibility. However, we can, as suggested by Pickhardt, think carefully before we use the words ‘pride’ or ‘proud’. We might be better placed to consider words to the effect: “Good for you.” “We are happy for you.” “You look really pleased with your effort.” Or, if we can’t detach from the ‘p’ word, it might be better to venture to “I’m so proud to be your Mum/Dad”.” The subtle turn in language shifts the feeling. It stops us from owning their achievement, or them. Being grateful rather than proud allows us to congratulate adolescents without entering the dangerous space of congratulating ourselves or living vicariously through them. Allowing our children to exist with agency and independence allows for their personal growth, with all its peaks and troughs, difficult as that can be. The key to emotional security, is for our children to know that “we have their back” that we are “in their corner” and that they are safe with us and that their achievements belong to them, not to us. Love is not contingent upon them achieving “success” – an arbitrary term often drawn from conventional definitions. Let us err always on the side of gratitude that we have for our children and rephrase our need to be proud when the thought enters into our consciousness. Parenting is, after all, the hardest job in the world, one in which we develop skills as we go – for each of our unique and precious children of whom we are not proud, rather, of whom we are so grateful, even in the toughest of circumstances. Dr Linda Evans | Principal REFERENCES Royy, Barker & Stafford (2019). ‘Perspectives of Young People on Parent Engagement and Doing Well at School.’ Canberra: Australian Research Alliance for Children and Youth (ARACY). Marchese, D. (2021). ‘Dr. Becky Doesn’t Think the Goal of Parenting Is to Make Your Kid Happy.’ The New York Times Magazine. Nov. 14, 2021. Pickhardt, C. (2015). ‘Adolescence and Making Parents Proud.’ Psychology Today.

When the news emerged that Â鶹ÊÓƵteacher and renowned sports coach John Sessarago (Sess) had passed away suddenly on 28 January, the shock and ensuing grief were palpable and wide-reaching. The ripple effect of a man who served his community humbly, selflessly, and expansively is hard to fathom or measure. Social media posts have captured the voices of thousands of students, friends, colleagues, and families whose lives have been touched in the most profound and enduring ways by this man. Universally, they are grateful to this teacher who taught them first and foremost about self-belief and valued them for who they were, wherever they were at. Born in Roma to Brian and Elizabeth and brother to Gaby and Chrissy, he was also the proudest father of Jaimee and Georgie, and even prouder husband to Kristen. Whilst his early years were spent betwixt Surat and Roma, he spent most of his growing up in Toowoomba and completed his secondary schooling at St. Mary’s College and then at Downlands College where he dabbled in Cadets, Debating, Athletics and Rugby. One of his cohort described him simply as, “One of the good ones, always noted for his booming voice.” Later, as he studied at UniSQ (formerly Darling Downs Institute of Education), he became a Downlands College Boarding master. But he remained a country boy at heart, and he frequented his friend Jim’s property in Texas – where branding or fencing work was a pleasure. He was also a keen fisherman and spent many holidays with Paul and others, in Cairns. Whilst Sess is known broadly across the Darling Downs and beyond as a formidable Rugby player, an exceptional coach, mentor, and teacher of Physical Education, he actually commenced his teaching career at Â鶹ÊÓƵCollege in 1988 as a Junior School teacher. But during the thirty-six years ahead, he reinvented himself as a practitioner, giving exceptional service to the school that he loved, the students who revered him and staff who adored him. He was, sometimes simultaneously, Primary School teacher, Debating Coach, College Photographer, Videographer, Secondary Physical Education Teacher, Marketing and Promotions team member, Australian World Youth Athletics Coach, Rugby Coach, Touch Coach, Athletics ‘tragic’ … he was a man who loved a good cap, and he wore many: metaphorically and literally. Sess was the man behind the camera at every event and every opportunity – keen always to be an observer, in the background, unobtrusive. It would be impossible to quantify how many shots he took over his 36 years at Â鶹ÊÓƵ– incorporated in his tally, are the countless weddings, formals, and family events he chronicled for staff, past students, and families. He found it impossible to say no and any photo he took seemed to end up in A3 or A4 size and framed – generously gifted and shared. Appropriately, and for posterity, in homes and homesteads across Australia, are myriad Sessarago shots. Camera work suited this deeply private and humble man. Ironically, his voice was a booming one, and for thousands of Â鶹ÊÓƵgirls the instruction, “Just one more shot,” followed always by, “Oh, I’ll just take another” will be his trademark, along with some perilous ladder-climbing in order to secure the perfect picture angle. ‘Above and beyond’ were his hallmarks. They led him to being a perpetual presence at school, or school events, deeply interested in what was unfolding, keen to chronicle moments on camera and always holding students to high account in terms of contribution, attitude, and effort. He led with high expectations, tempered by a strong sense of fun and the most exceptional generosity. Generosity might have been evident in the cheesecakes, mud cakes and ice creams that seemed to find their way into classrooms, team gatherings and Pastoral Care group meetings via Sess, but it extended to the way he viewed people and the world: this is his legacy. He had no favourites, but everyone felt they were his favourite, such was his gift for including all and listening, really listening. Whilst Â鶹ÊÓƵlikes to claim Sess as their own, it was his wife Kristen and daughters Jaimee and Georgie who stole his heart – he referred always to them in the collective, as “my beautiful girls”. The John Sessarago effect is broad and wide and deep and so many are grateful to him and for him and will continue to be, long into the future. “[We] can hardly imagine the place without him.” Dr Linda Evans | Principal