Will by Maria Boyd Page A

the class. Umm … fit, quick .
    OK. What about if you start to compare different codes? Is the same true of league or rugby or AFL?
    The whole class started up now, reigniting another of St. Andrew’s long-standing traditions—football versus soccer rivalry.
    No way, sir, soccer players are gentlemen in comparison to league players …
    Yeah, that’s because they’re soft!
    They are not soft, you idiot!
    What would you know?
    Loser!
    I sat back and watched. At least this was making the lesson go more quickly. It was exactly the type of stuff Andrews loved to do in his classroom. Friday, period six, was about the only time he ever let us have a full-on discussion, though. Mostly he was too concerned with getting us through the syllabus. He was smart, though; it was these types of lessons and the fact that he let us have our say that kept everyone on side for the rest of the lessons. I think he did genuinely want to hear what we thought, but it wasn’t only that. He was big on getting us to see the world, and the people in it, in different ways. I just wasn’t sure it was going to work with some of the boys, especially the league players.
    I only started to pay attention again when I heard the familiar groans from the class. It could only mean one thing—another assignment.
    Your job over the next month is to collect images or representations of stereotypes and catalog them. What type of medium? Negative or positive? What messages are being given to the general public? How are these images deliberately manipulated by the media and to what purpose? I want you to create an extensiveportfolio and then write a 1,500-word reflection on what you have learned about the power of stereotyping .
    Everyone moaned and carried on into their bags as they sifted through empty lunch-box wrappers, personal stereos and PE gear to find their diaries.
    Just as I was lifting my head he started on me.
    I see you are awake, Will. I have a special task for you .
    Every head in the classroom stared in my direction.
    I want you to explore the stereotypes that surround those students who involve themselves in the school musical .
    The class erupted into laughter mixed with Sucked in! and Ahh, Willo’s special!
    He couldn’t be serious!
    Come off it, sir, you can’t do that! No one else has been given a special assignment. That’s not fair .
    Oh no, I think it is very fair, especially considering I am giving you the duration of the musical to complete the task, which means you have at least a month longer than the other boys .
    Sir … I …
    He walked out of the class, leaving me swearing at his fading back. What was his problem? As if I didn’t have to give up enough of my precious time for that bloody thing already, let alone have to study it.
    If he thought I was going to do it he was wrong.

A car ride into uncharted waters
    I woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of rain ricocheting off the Armstrong entertainment area. Mum was in her trekking-in-Nepal gear attacking the veggie patch again. She came in dripping and spent half an hour in the shower. She emerged from her room and began to walk around the house mumbling to herself. There was definitely something up. I thought a morning with her plants was meant to make her feel better.
    My mum radar said to keep right away, as far away as possible, which I did in my bedroom with my guitar. But considering any minute now she would be at my door telling me it was time to go and be king of the geeks, I thought for once I’d be prepared. If only to give her absolutely no opportunity to sit on my bed and have one of her talks.
    Will, it’s nine-thirty, haven’t you got to be at school by ten?
    She stood in my doorway, looking shocked and even a little disappointed.
    You’re ready?
    What was going on with the woman? One minute I get the irresponsible, not meeting my commitments stuff and the next she looks like she’s going to cry because I am actually ready on time.
    Yeah, I’m