Pioneers

1.    Do the second generation of migrants have an easier time than the first? 

- It is easier for the younger generations to pick up the language skills

- The second generation, having been in Australia longer than the first generation are more used to the food, language and general Australian day-to-day life

- The second generation are less likely to cling onto their original backgrounds to become more multicultural in Australia

2.    Why do the pioneers choose to come to Australia? Do you think that their reasons are always clear, even to them?

- I don’t believe their ideas about Australia are clear to them

- Pioneers choose to come to Australia because they have a reason for leaving; bankruptcy, family problems, war, mass killings and government control are a few issues.

3.    How do the pioneers’ lives change when they come to Australia?

- Their lives change because they are considered individual people with feelings and are welcomed with open arms into the multicultural family

- The pioneers will be able to see others who have had to leave their country with similar reasons and the pioneers will be able to see they are not the only ones with these country problems.

4.    What elements do they choose to bring with them when they migrate? And which do they reject? Why?

- Choose to bring their language, culture and foods

- They reject some habits of their culture which are considered irregular in the new country because it is easier for them to bond with others being the same as everybody else

5.    What tricks do the pioneers learn to assist them in belonging to Australian culture?

- Language – day-to-day conversations and talking to strangers

- Lots of friends from different cultures

- To become accustomed to the Australian lifestyle

- Learning to get along with everybody

Revised letter

Dear Mother,

It has been a while since I last wrote to you. Not a lot has changed. I’ve been at Uni for more than six months now, and I still don't feel at home. The other girls are different because they don't like the same things I do, stay up late and party all night to complain the next day. They forget to complete necessary work for the subject. I have been very busy with study.

Walking around the grounds to clear my head, I have found the perfect spot. It’s up in a tree. When I sit there, I am able to see the white-capped mountains. Sometimes, I just sit there and listen. I have a few private moments, before I am transported back into my mundane life.

Uni isn’t as interesting as I fantasised, but I am enjoying the work. I do try to get along with my dorm-mates, but it is extremely difficult for me. They are always talking about things I don't particularly need or want to have any part in. It’s always about the next party, or the new dress and down to the latest pair of shoes.

The new fashion will not help me with the choosing of the subjects I wish to continue on with. I’m not sure what I am to choose. My teachers have told me I can do well in any I choose. My head wants me to go one way – the easy and more successful way. My feet want to follow the path less taken – the one where I will feel more at home.[cg1] 

Being in the place where I feel at home is when I attend musicals. The sounds of the violin sweep me over the top of the mountains, like a bird, and the mellow brass take me to the deepest depths of the sea. When the concert is over, I feel like crying. This is one of the only a few places in the world where I can be myself and speak my mind.

I believe my dorm-mates will become friends if they stop, listen and sit in the tree with me. Perhaps, they will understand why I love to look at the mountains, to wonder about the world beyond our own and choose where your feet will take you.

Your feet are never wrong because they know where you want to go in your heart. They know your deepest desires about the choices you wish to take but choose not to listen. Perhaps there is someone here who will sit with me and listen to their feet, because the feet know the road not taken.

Love,

Lorraine

Intervening as Rue writing a diary entry sitting in the park

Dear Diary,

Last night was the debate. It was very interesting topic for me because my actions do speak louder than words. Dad, being dad, stood up and intervened to translate me when my friend couldn’t talk fast enough. At the time, I was very upset because it was my debate and he was ruining my ideas by putting them in the order I hadn’t.

I was so upset because he had ruined my debate on a topic I was so interested in. But, that was just dad being dad. I understand that now. I am not as upset as last night because I can see where he was coming from.

Dad got up early this morning to go to the orchid. I must do something to make it better between us. As I looked out the window, I could see the tractor. The old run-down tractor, that is only held together by duct tape and chewing gum.

I knew what I had to do to mend our relationship. I can hear the tractor is almost finished, I hope dad isn’t going to be mad at me because I am only trying to help.

I had better go and take the tractor back home. I hope dad will be happy with my help.

The Letter

Dear Mother,

It has been a while since I last wrote to you. Not a lot has changed. I’ve been at Uni for more than six months now, and I still don't feel at home. The other girls are different. Different because they don't like the same things I do, stay up late and party all night to complain the next day. They forgot to complete necessary work for the subject. I have been very busy with study.

Walking around the grounds, to clear my head and have found the perfect spot. It’s up in a tree. When I sit there, I am able to see the white-capped mountains. Sometimes, I just sit there and listen. I have a few private moments, before I am transported back into my mundane life.

Uni isn’t as interesting as I fantasied, but I am enjoying the work. I do try to get along with my dorm-mates, but it is extremely difficult for me. They are always talking about things I don't particularly need or want to have any part in. It’s always about the next party, or the new dress and down to the lastest pair of shoes.

I have to choose which subjects I wish to continue on with. I’m not sure what I am to choose. My teachers have told me I can do well in any I choose. My head wants me to go one way – the easy and more successful way. My feet want to follow the path less taken – the one where I will feel more at home.

I go to as many musicals as I can afford, because I feel more at home. The sounds of the violin sweep me over the top of the mountains, like a bird, and the mellow brass take me to the deepest depths of the sea. When the concert is over. I feel like crying. Crying because there are only a few places in the world where I can be myself and speak my mind.

I believe my dorm-mates will become friends if they stop, listen and sit in the tree with me, perhaps, they will understand why I love to look at the mountains; to wonder about the world beyond our own and choose where your feet will take you.

Your feet are never wrong because they know where you want to go in your heart. They know your deepest desires about the choices you wish to take but choose not to listen. Perhaps there is someone here who will sit with me and listen to their feet, because the feet know the road not taken.

Love,

Lorraine

Listen to your feet

Write a response, which is based on the same aspect of journey – choices. You might choose a narrative, a journal, a letter etc. Create a character or characters and a situation, which will allow you to present a point of view about the way choices, affect our journeys. Aim to use some specific language devices.

Dear Mother,

It has been a while since I last wrote to you. I have been very busy with my exams. I’ve been here for more than six months now, and I still don't feel at home. The other girls are different. Different because they don't like the same things I do, stay out late and party all night to complain the next day because they forgot to complete necessary work for the subjects.

Walking around the grounds, I have found the perfect spot. It’s up in a tree. I am able to see the white-capped mountains and feel perfectly at home. Sometimes, I don't even take work up there; I just sit there and listen to the sounds. I am able to have a few private moments, before I am transported back into my mundane existence.

I have to choose which subjects I wish to continue on with. I’m not sure what I am to choose. My teachers have told me I can do well in any I choose. My head wants me to go one way – the easy and more successful way. My feet want to follow the path less taken – the one where I will feel more at home.

I try to get along with my dorm-mates, but it is extremely difficult for me. They are always talking about things I don't particularly need or want to have any part in. It’s always about the next party, or the new dress and down to the last pair of shoes.

I go to as many concerts as I can afford. I feel more at home. Where the sounds of the violin sweep me over the top of the mountains and the mellow brass take me to the deepest, darkest depths of the sea. When the concert is over. I feel like crying. Crying because there are only a few places in the world where I can be myself, act myself and speak my mind.

I stopped writing last week because I didn't know what else to tell you. I still don't get along with my dorm mates. Even though I know their names, they still don't know I exist. I reckon they will know I am here, and working hard, when tests come around and they need someone to help.

I will help the mother. I believe they are lost. Lost in the darkest cave at the bottom of the ocean, with no one to turn to. I will be like their guiding light outside into the real world. Where people have personalities, because personalities bring the roller coasters of life.

If they stop to listen to music and sit in the tree with me, perhaps they will understand why I love to look at the mountains. To wonder about the world beyond our own and choose where your feet take you.

Your feet are never wrong because they know where you want to go in your heart. They know your deepest desires about the choices you wish to take but choose not to listen to. Perhaps there is someone here who will sit with me and listen to his or her feet, because the feet know the road not taken.

Love,

Lorraine