From the Head of Primary

This week we finish the term with a celebration of Easter. The little donkey, the procession through the school with bread roosters atop decorated crosses, the singing and stories, the simple but beautiful foot-washing assembly – these are all moments the children in Primary look forward to. They are experiences of joy, beauty and significance.

A lot of work, a lot of creativity and a lot of learning has happened since the beginning of term. I’d like to acknowledge our hard-working, caring and skilled staff who have brought rich learning experiences to the children and supported them with their well-being and learning.

Thank you, parents, for all your ongoing support. I’d like to wish you and your families a safe and enjoyable Easter break.

Kevin Mazzer
Head of Primary School

Bibra Lake Diary - Tuesday 8th April

Finally, the hot days of Bunuru are easing.

Nights are cooler, and this morning there is a layer of mist over the lake. Ducks are on the bank preening, or they glide effortlessly over the glassy water.

The expanse of lake, which not long ago was dried mud, is now a lush green carpet.  More a field than a lake.

On the horizon clouds are beginning to form. This cooling shift signals the beginning of Djeran, and the coming of the first rain of the year.

Kevin Mazzer
Head of Primary School

The Boy on the Bus - an Easter story

Every day a group of children rode the school bus from their home in the city to their school set on a bush block. The younger children gathered in the front, while the older boys filled the back with noise and laughter. They were boisterous and loud, full of energy and mischief.

One day, the bus stopped in a poor neighbourhood. It normally didn’t stop here. The children looked out the windows and saw the run-down houses, the overgrown gardens, the broken-down rusting cars. The people who lived here obviously had very little.  A new child boarded the bus. His hair was matted, and his big dark eyes seemed too large for his small face. His legs were scraped and bruised, as though he’d spent too much time running through thorny bushes. He slipped into the only empty seat near the front.

The other children glanced at him, whispering behind their hands and a few giggled. They were unsure of what to make of him.

It was early April, the days of summer drawing to a close. In the mornings, a cool chill hung in the air, hinting at the approach of Easter. As the bus rolled away from his stop, the boy put his face near the glass, his warm breath fogging the window. Then slowly, he began to draw, his fingers forming a shape in the condensation. The outline of a bird appeared—it was a small rooster, delicate and deftly drawn.

The children on the bus glanced at each other curiously. Even the older children down the back of the bus noticed.

Then, as if unaware of anyone else, the little boy began to speak softly to the bird, as though it were alive. He paused, listening, and then spoke again.  He did this time and time again throughout the ride, lost in his own quiet world. What the conversation was about was a mystery, but it was clear to all that the rooster took a very lively interest in the boy’s life!   Some of the big children scoffed, some giggled, but many watched him with growing curiosity.

When the bus finally pulled up at the school stop, one of the older boys, a loud bossy boy named Eddie, pushed past. With a dismissive swipe, he wiped away the bird from the window. “Wake up, daydreamer!” he said with a smirk. A few of his friends chuckled, but the laughter was half-hearted, not as loud as Eddie thought it would be. The little boy looked hurt; his eyes wide with surprise. He tried to warm the window again with his breath, but the fog wouldn’t form.

The bus emptied, and the children filed off in silence, the mood heavy with unspoken thoughts. The next day, it was the same. The little boy got on the bus, found his seat, and began his quiet conversation with the bird, drawing it again in the foggy window. Again, big Eddie wiped it away. This time he didn’t wait until the end of the ride.

At recess and lunchtime that day, the new boy sat alone, his gaze fixed downward. His classmates noticed, but none of them knew what to say.

On the third day, as the boy climbed aboard, he noticed that something was different. He was surprised to find big Eddie—the one who had wiped the rooster off the window—sitting in his seat. All the other seats were taken. The boy looked at him, confused. Eddie simply smirked, as if to say, “What are you going to do about it?’

No one knew quite how to react. The tension hung in the air. But then, something unexpected happened. One of the other big boys, a friend of Eddie’s, breathed on the glass of his own window. A frosty patch began to form. He stepped into the aisle and gestured for the little boy to sit. Without a word, the little boy walked up the aisle. All heads turned and watched him walk. He sat down, his heart racing.  The big boy sat next to him.

When mean Eddie came back to see what was happening, he saw his friend sitting there, arms folded like a big brother, and a look that said, ‘Sit down, Eddie. The kid’s alright and he’s with me.’  

And so, the little boy began to draw again, the rooster slowly taking shape under his fingers. He whispered to it, as he had before.

Then one by one, the other children started to follow his lead. Each of them breathed on their own windows, and soon, the bus was filled with drawings—a little fox here, a magpie there. The windows, once clear, were now alive with their own world of animals.

Big Eddie just harrumphed and went and sat down the front again and looked out the window.

The bus pulled away, and again there was silence—not the uncomfortable, awkward silence of before, but a quiet understanding. Each child sat in their seat, watching the world through the frosty lines of their animals, their imaginations set free in a way they hadn’t expected.

And the boy? He sat there, his rooster perched in the glass, quietly speaking to it, knowing the world outside had softened just a little.

Kevin Mazzer
Head of Primary School

Observation Without Judgment

As part of their 'Physics of Sound' main lesson, Class 6 engaged in several sound-related experiments, the latest of which involved a fork, a piece of string, and a hard surface. To conduct this experiment, students were instructed to carry out a number of steps: one, hold up a fork (or butter-knife) with a piece of string tied around the handle-end; two, wrap the other end of the string around their index finger; three, insert their finger into their ear; four, knock the utensil onto their desks; and finally simply observe. The students were amazed with the outcome.

"I could hear soft vibrations in my ear," said one student. "It sounded like the chiming of a bell," said another. 

Previous experiments conducted involved the use of different shaped bottles filled up with various amounts of water and used to either blow across the rim or to beat with a utensil in a percussive-like fashion. Both techniques caused the creation of different sounds. 

The ultimate purpose of these experiments was for students to hone their observational skills by breaking down what they witnessed in as much detail as possible. By using as many senses as possible, students were encouraged to come into their own bodies to differentiate and discern sound without judgment.

 

In Steiner education, there is an emphasis on students developing the ability to observe before forming judgments. In the early years, this focus on observation helps children engage deeply with the world around them. Rather than jumping to conclusions or analysing things too quickly, they are encouraged to simply observe and experience the world. This cultivates a sense of wonder, curiosity, and open-mindedness. The goal is to allow children to connect with their surroundings and peers without the immediate pressure to label or categorise everything they encounter (as there will be plenty of time for that in their later senior years)! 

Tamara Yousry
Class 6 Education Assistant