BARRENJOEY HIGH SCHOOL’S
WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Phone: 9918 8811
Term 4 Week 7
THE PENINSULA PRESS
28 November, 2018
PCS Writing Competition
entrant Bruna Gomes of
Year 10 with Mr Bowsher
and Ms Kennedy
PCS WRITING COMPETITION
Congratulations to the finalists for the PCS writing Competition.
Last Tuesday finalists and their families were invited to a special awards ceremony at
Berkelouw Books in Mona Vale to celebrate the creative achievements. Of the nine students
shortlisted, six were Barrenjoey students. Designed in current fashions of fast or flash fiction,
the challenge was to be expressive but also succinct. Students were given a stimulus, a
lighthouse, and were marked according to their control of language, their originality and their
use of the stimulus. Students only had 500 words to make an impact on our judges (Libby
Armstrong from Beachside Book and Alan Jones a writer and parent from Pittwater High).
Congratulations again to the finalists and thank you to all 33 Barrenjoey students who entered.
Belle Turner Year 11 (Stage 6 winner)
Flynn Maynard Year 11 (Stage 6 second place)
Zoe Coles Year 10 (Stage 5 winner)
Bruna Gomes Year 10 (Stage 5 second place)
Lucinda Collee Year 7 (Stage 4 second place)
Tim Bradford Year 7 (Stage 4 third place)
Here are their impressive stories:
The Finalists are:
Photos courtesy of Zoe Kemp Year 11
By Ms Kennedy
I’m glad we woke on the ground and not in the sky – the storm of stars is so wild that we’d
surely have lost each other before we even got the chance to lose ourselves. I remember that
night we swam, cold, naked, from the shore, and halfway out to sea and looked up – just to
get a glimpse at the universe and what could have been – and you told me you were scared of
being alone as we floated on the very water that drowns our lungs. Is it even possible to be
alone in a finite world? - perhaps, only if we were deaf and blind; if we were senseless. But
that’s just in our nature, isn’t it, to crave the company of another, because misery loves
company, and it’s our own misery that we perpetuate endlessly. Maybe it’s the only thing that
kept you sane. We’re human, with problems nurtured such as they were our own children, and
kept so close to our heart. Even the sky needs catharsis though, and the eventual cumulation
of our miseries no longer provides sanity to our tempestuous minds, so we release -
derivatively, just like the sky does. Isn’t that strange? Or perhaps it makes more sense than
anything has the right to. I remember the countless times we’d toasted the sky with acidic wine
because the ground was the place we knew; raising our glasses to what could have been the
future, which I must imagine was happy. Dissatisfaction is bitter, so we ignore the possibilities
of other realities, but wouldn’t that be something? - if we could wake among the stars, and
breathe the dust of the universe? Of course, the air down here smells sweet enough - running
red and blue through our bodies - and it’s almost fascinating that some sequence of divine
events brought me to this very moment. The possibility of us being able to experience this as
we do is so infinitesimally miniscule that I should appreciate it more - the human experience,
that is. The way that we can direct ourselves to hike a mountain only for the purpose of
enjoying the view, and the fact that once we get there, once we stand on the precarious edge,
we not only fear falling off but also fear the lack of tenacity in our minds that should tether us
to the rock our feet stand on; the urge to jump is hardly insane though, simply because we are
so interconnected with the earth that flying seems possible. Shouldn’t the air lift us as we fall?
The human experience is truly incredible, and so immense that trying to think about it
confused me more than I ever told you. So I just set my life to the drum of your heartbeat, and
followed the beam of the lighthouses in your eyes, because that was easier than finding a
plan. I wish we had woken in the sky – the sky, which holds the stars, unshakeable and
permanent. Down here, on this earth which we live by, where we must enjoy the sweet
subtleties lest we get distracted by the universe, nothing will ever be close to the infinity that is
offered beyond our clouds.
Belle Turner Year 11 (Stage 6 winner)
Flynn Maynard Year 11 (Stage 6 second place)
Toms Ruins
It’s times like these when I take the backseat of my mind. I watch myself from the tail end of my
consciousness and review my life like a montage that pushes itself into my visual field and only
leaves me as a lost, empty soul. The ocean knocked on my head and entered my ears, nose
and mouth. I pull my head above the water and try make out the distance between myself and
the headland. A lighthouse, home, it beams light through the fog and exhausting wind of the
South-East Coast. I picture my family; my son gazing at the television, hypnotised, my wife
arched over her book, her husband seemingly recovering from the argument by getting piss-
drunk in the town. A sigh escapes my body and contracts stomach, the barren beach and the
lighthouse on the headland torment my screaming conscience. You have no chance of
returning, it whispers to me in a sinister voice, you must give up, there’s no reason to try. I may
be drowning, but I didn’t have a melancholy mentality, I felt blessed to be so far from the shore
as that was more unsafe than the ocean I float in.
A montage of moments projects through the glimmering water, light a break of sunlight in the
deviate cloud. I see denouement of an era. The breakdown of a marriage.
She stares at him, defective of love and honesty. “I know how hard this is, Tom,” she whispers
under her incoherent sobs, “but it is for the best. For our child, we’re hurting him by trying to
heal our love.” She repeats her whimpers like a hymn, discharging a tear from her left eye,
taking off a layer of mascara on its way down, past her cheek, collecting foundation. She
inhales, sucking the tear into her mouth. Rain and wind pelt at the concrete walls of the
lighthouse that surround us. Footfalls echo down the hallway, and their child sticks his head
around the door frame, observing his mother and father. “Is mum okay?” the child whispers.
Tom gives him a nod of affirmation and the child hesitantly walks back to his room. “I think you
should leave now,” she orders, “Please.”
The water fills my lungs with every surge of ocean. I taste the Pacific in all of it’s might. The salt
sits in the back of my throat, no space for oxygen in this berth. Seaweed lodged in my chest,
vertigo hitting my head. I begin to sink. Deep into the dark blue, deeper, deeper. The beam of
light dissipates, the lighthouse is gone from my sight. Relief. I’m surrounded by all of these
moments in my life that brought me here; the fights, the tears, the breakdown of a marriage, the
repercussions that have since been woven into my temporal lobe. They dance about my
fragmented body, Taunting me. I see my wife, weeping. She swims over to my near-lifeless
body and pulls me close to her, whispering into my waterlogged ear as the last bubbles of air
escape my body:
“I think you should leave now,” the sentence dances in my ear like a ballerina, echoing, twirling.
“Please.”
Zoe Coles Year 10 (Stage 5 winner)
The lighthouse stretched its arms out across the sea, bathing the dancing whales that
confided in its warmth. It was January 1st 2010, the smell of the new decade filtered through
the salt of the seawater that swam underneath Jessica Watson’s boat. She had stayed up
until midnight, and although she was alone, she had never felt more a part of something.
Jessica could see her purpose so clearly, as though it were deep red blood sitting on her fair
arm, and although she will admit that there was pain in her solitude, there was an
undeniable sense of unity.
Her surroundings were something of a microcosm, and this whole venture she had set out
on 2 months ago from Sydney encapsulated something much bigger than she had ever let
her mind imagine. Jessica Watson was on her journey to become the youngest person to
ever sail the world alone, at just sixteen years of age. Sixteen years, she thought, and I have
seen more waters and slept beneath more spirited moons that many do in the entirety of
their existence.
The sunrises that she had been a part of had spilled and leaked colours so vibrant that they
did not even have names, and the sunsets she had fallen asleep to were lullabies for the
ocean’s children, a family that she now plays and rests with. It was New Years Day, and
whilst Jessica knew this, it did not interest her in the way it once had. The ocean held a
different sense of time to it and did so in a way that could not be measured in days or years.
The sun was the clock and the ocean’s current held time and rippled it through the waters,
settling on Jessica’s skin and seeping into her mind, calming her with its lack of worry or
exclaim. In the darkness of the new year, she ventured out onto the deck where the ocean
became her stage, lit by a foreign glow bleeding from a nearby headland.
She thought about the lighthouse, the guidance and direction it gave to her, something of a
gift. Jessica wondered what she could give back to the lighthouse, or if her mere ardour for
the dripping blue waters that encompassed our lands was thankful enough. She often felt a
strange connection to the lighthouse keepers, there was an unspoken endearment carried
through the salty air, breathing light upon the waters.
As she sat on the deck of her trusted boat, an overwhelming desire to surround herself by
the water that she sat upon came over her, the thought flooding her every bloodstream. To
breathe the same time it breathes, just for a moment, to be drenched in the light of the
lands. Her limbs led her to the ladder down the side of her boat, and she lowered herself
upon the water. It carried Jessica as she lay on her back, all trust and time fading into unity.
For a brief moment, she was a sleeping child cradled in her mother’s arms, and she was
connected. Jessica was with and without, and had never felt more whole.
Bruna Gomes Year 10 (Stage 5 second place)
A Mermaid’s Predicament
I am in love with the lighthouse keeper. He has tousled hair that smells of sea spray and hands
that roll softly through his salty curls like waves. And his mind, it is deeper than the ocean, full
of thoughts wilder than the sea creatures that lurk in the darkest of trenches. He does an
impressive job of looking after the foolish sailors that brave these seas below the cliff, making
sure that the life-sparing tower functions efficiently. Every single night, once the sun has put
itself to bed, watching the stretch of light sweep across the sea, I quietly assure him that I’ll
love him forever.
He must get lonely, up there every night, with only a beam of light and the swell’s whispers to
keep him company. I’ve never actually spoken to the lighthouse keeper before, but I would like
to, someday. In fact, it is my dream to hear his celestial voice wash over me until I feel dizzy
and see stars. The closest I ever get to that, though, is when he stands on the edge of the cliff,
and he looks out to the horizon with a hypnotic gaze full of glittering serendipity. Of course, he
never sees me, because why look down to the craggy rocks and black shoreline when you can
look up at the rays of sunshine bounce off the clouds in bursts of dusky pink and delicate lilac?
That would be like going to an art gallery only to look at the walls on which the paintings are
hung.
I have dreams about the lighthouse keeper, up there in his tower of solitude. In my dreams, he
kisses me and he tastes of salt and benevolence, and then I touch his leathery cheek and he
flashes a smile that shines brighter than the pearls sealed within the oysters that are clinging to
the rocks. In my dreams, he doesn’t mind that from the waist down I am covered in shimmering
teal scales that prevent me from ever joining him in his trusty lighthouse. He doesn’t mine that
my teeth are sharper that the knives that sailors use to cut ropes, or the way the slits in my
neck twitch as they suck in air. It’s always a shame to wake up from those dreams, because
then I am always left with his silhouette against the beam of the lighthouse and a wicked
yearning that I cannot seem to extinguish.
One night, after the sun had well and truly fallen asleep, I was horrified. The lighthouse was not
on. The sea was not bathed in its assuring light. The sailors were free to flirt with their deaths.
The cliff was empty, spare the withered bones of the tower whose life had been snuffed out.
Tears stung my eyes and my gills seethed as they struggled to suck in oxygen. Suddenly I
shivered, my bare shoulders desperate for the lighthouse keeper’s embrace. What a futile
place this dark cliff has become.
Lucinda Collee Year 7 (Stage 4 second place)
The Wind
I hear the wind rustle through the leaves above me.
It calls to me like a sad haunting song, as if it is trying to tell me something.
“Come with me.” It says in its haunting whisper.
“Follow me, quickly now child. Hurry!”
I snap my eyes open.
I take deep breaths to settle the disturbances the dream had caused.
In and out, in and out.
The air is crisp with frost, it latches onto my breath, like a moth to flame.
Suddenly, the air shifts around me.
There’s a storm coming. I can taste the salt in the air.
I am lying underneath an old oak tree, it’s gnarled, twisted branches protect me
from the coming gale.
I come out of my sleeping position and slowly stand up.
My knees protest with every step I take.
I slowly start to trudge up the hill to where my home, the lighthouse stands like
an anchor against the wind.
My hair spills out of my beanie like ink, blowing behind me wildly in the wind.
Frantically I try to grab my beanie, but the wind has snatched it up and taken it
away, mocking my every attempt to get it back.
Knowing that my beanie has now been lost to the ferocious waves of the sea, I
begrudgingly turn around, and trudge up the well-worn path, to my home.
In the distance I hear the crackle of thunder, so loud it shakes me to the bone.
Suddenly, a fork of lightning so blinding that all I see is murky darkness.
It had struck down into the sea, churning the water into froth.
With a sudden urgency that came from deep within, I sprint up the path towards
the lighthouse.
My breath catches in my throat, my stomach flips in fright.
There, where the lighthouse my home, once stood is now a burning pile of
rubble. The smell of loss reaches my nose. I stifle a cry as I hear a loud crash as
it hits the rocks below. The sea swallows it up like a last meal.
What will I do now?
Tim Bradford Year 7 (Stage 4 third place)
Moth
Darkness falls. The dimming gradient of light that blankets the sky slowly disappears
under the horizon. There is an island. On this Island is a lighthouse. In the lighthouse is
a weary lighthouse keeper. Ships pass through the waters around the island. Soon the
keeper will soon have to turn the huge light on to warn ships of the rocky shores of the
small island. The keeper has never had a ship crash on his Island and he plans to keep
it that way.
As he cranks the lever forwards and the blinding light shunts on and the keeper is
satisfied that he has done everything correctly. No ships will be coming anywhere close
to the Island tonight. The Lighthouse keeper walks down the spiralling staircase and
heads to his living quarters. The light clicks off and the ageing lighthouse keeper
slumps onto the creaking mattress. He drifts off into a deep slumber and the world
around fades away from him.
Cold. Chilling, icy, uncomfortable cold. It feels to the Lighthouse keeper like he has
spent an eternity in deep space. It is dusk. The lighthouse is not on and the twinkling
lights of a ship in the distance is edging ever closer. The hard realisation hits the
keeper. He needs to get up to the lighthouse and turn on the light. He tries to run but
his legs don’t move. He tries to scream but no sound escapes his mouth. A screaming
headache pierces the keeper’s thoughts and something black looms into the edge of
the lighthouse keeper’s view. The ship is very close to the shore and he can see the
people on the decks of the vessel.
It overwhelms the man as the creature touches down in front of him. Standing in front
of him is an animal-Is it an animal? , no, it cannot be. The thing is at least eight feet tall
and has immense red eyes that pierce the darkness like an arrow through wood. On it’s
back are two large moth-like wings with red eye markings. Two long legs rippling with
muscles and four arms with ten fingers on each wide hand. It speaks to the man with
it’s mind. The moth creature says:
‘I am Mothman. I have resided on this planet for over two billion years. My mind is
superior to yours. Turn on the light and the ship will be safe. Turn on the light and you
will be freed’’.
The keeper awakes to the sickening screech of breaking metal and the screams of
passengers. A massive black shape flys past the keeper’s window.
MADD NIGHT – HOW WONDERFUL IT WAS
CAPA students excelled in both creative and performing arts last night at the annual event. The
evening began with the art exhibition in the Back Stage Gallery. The wonderful artwork created
over the year by so many Visual Arts, Ceramics, Photography and Graphic Arts students. The
Concert band played several pieces captivating the audience under the conductorship of Josh
Hughes. The acts showcased individual and group performances from the talented Music
students and both the Drama and Dance items were delightful.
Thank you to the community for their support of the arts at BHS, Well done students and
teachers!
MADD NIGHT
Amber Tiles Mona Vale, Avalon
Butcher, Avalon Earth Moving, Avalon
Family Dental, Avalon Florist, Avalon
Palm Beach Chamber of Commerce,
Avalon RSL- Bistro 61, Avalon Skin,
Avalon Stand Up Paddle, Avalon Swim,
Avalon Whole Food shop, BBQ
Factory, Beach Road, Beaches Beauty
, Beachside Bookshop, Beckenhams,
Blake Real Estate, Bookoccino, Careel
Bay Marina, Chapmans Carpets,
Chelsea Pet Shop, Club Palm Beach,
Commonwealth bank, Couston Family,
Cranzgots, Crush Wine, Deese, Di
Cutrie, Dive Spear Sport, Dogue,
Donna’s barber shop, Eco DownUnder,
F45, Facial Impressions, Fantasea,
Flourish, Flynn’s , Golden Fruit, Isabel
Lopez Hair design , Jim Colley, John
Bull Removals, Jonahs, Kennards Hire,
Kristina Brinke, Lazer Clinics, Le
Bourlevarde Avalon, Make up by
Elizabeth, Manly Surf School, Mitre 10,
Modus Operandi Brewing, North Av
Metro station, Northern Beaches
Council, Organic Shop, Palm Beach
Fish & Chips, PIM events, Pittwater
Kayak Tours, Previous Next, Redback
Nomad SUP, Road to Paradise, Rust,
Sa Biang, Sally Mayman - Turtle
Pictures, Sarah & Haven, Super Yacht
Crew Academy, Surf Collective,
Swell, Swimart pool clean , The
Academy Brand, The Avalon
Beachhouse, The Parkhouse,
TravelView, Uncovered, Voss, Wendy
Sharpe, Womens Rugby &’s Training
Jersey, Woolworths Avalon,
YouSaveChemist
GOLDEN BALL
THANK YOU WE COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU
Thank you to all our wonderful Sponsors who supported the 50th Anniversary at the
Golden Ball. Because of these amazing Businesses we raised more than $17,000
BAND NEWS
It’s been a busy couple of weeks for Band with a major performance on Avalon Market Day
followed by performances at Avalon and Bilgola Primary schools and MADD night. The school
visits are important for us because this is where we can showcase Band to potential new
players. Both schools followed up with glowing reports about our performances and behaviour
during our visits, so mission accomplished. Band now goes off on a well deserved week long
Tour to Northern NSW and the Gold Coast, with a busy schedule of performances but allowing
time also for fun and frolics!
Congratulations to our latest successful crop of AMEB (Australian Music Examination Board)
candidates. Preparation for an AMEB takes months of hard work, dedication and commitment.
Performance
Level 7 Elena Newlyn (Flute)
Level 6 Kasey Cramer (French Horn); Will Cassell (Flute)
Level 5 Mia Susnjara (Flute); Laura Newlyn (Flute); Callum Archibald (Trumpet)
Level 4 Elise Inger (Clarinet)
Level 3: Alice Binns (Trumpet); Tara Moran (Flute)
Music Theory/Musicality
Level 4 Lachan Bates
Level 3 Elena Newlyn; Will Cassell
Level 1 Mia Susnjara
Photos courtesy of Krithia Edwards
Written by Gerry Bates
2018 HISTORY SHOWCASE – EVERYONE IS INVITED
HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE TAS DEPARTMENT
AT
BARRENJOEY HIGH SCHOOL
We wish you all Happy Holidays and look forward to seeing you in 2019. If you
are considering purchasing new school shoes in the holidays here is a guide to
purchasing one of the following:
Remember if you do not have the correct footwear, you will be asked to
leave the practical classroom lesson and work on your theory tasks.
Important:
SHOES:
MONDAY
NOVEMBER 26
TUESDAY
NOVEMBER 27
WEDNESDAY
NOVEMBER 28
THURSDAY
NOVEMBER 29
FRIDAY
NOVEMBER 30
Year 10 – Year
11 Taster
Classes
Year 9
Commerce
Market Day
10.10am –
11.40am
JUNIOR
MADD
Evening Year 10 – Year
11 Taster
Classes
Year 12 Music
Assessment
Task
Band
Rehearsal
6pm-8pm
Year 12 Music
Assessment
Task
Year 10 – Year
11 Taster
Classes
Nic Newling
Student
presentation
11.40am
Nic Newling
Parent
Presentation
6.30pm –
8.30pm
Year 10 – Year
11 Taster
Classes
Year 11 Girls
Workshop
Year 12
English
Studies
Excursion
History
Showcase
Evening
5.30pm-
6.30pm (A
Block
Common
room)
Year 12
PDHPE Task 1
due
Year 12 SLR
Task 1 due
Year 10 Luna
Park Excursion
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Band
Rehearsal
3.15pm-
4.30pm
WEEK 7 (A) TERM 4
WEEK 8 (B) TERM 4
MONDAY
DECEMBER 3
TUESDAY
DECEMBER 4
WEDNESDAY
DECEMBER 5
THURSDAY
DECEMBER 6
FRIDAY
DECEMBER 7
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Year 12
Flexible
Learning Day
U/15 Cricket –
Nolans
Reserve
Year 12 French
Beginners
Assessment
Task 1
Speaking
Minimum
Standard
Reading Test
9am-10am
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Year 12 Flexible
Learning Day
Year 12 English
Extension 2
Assessment
Task 1
Year
Band Rehearsal
6pm-8pm
YEAR 6
ORIENTATION
DAY
Minimum
Standard
Numeracy Test
10.10am –
11.40am
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Year 12 Flexible
Learning Day
Year 12 Drama
Assessment
Task
Minimum
Standard
Writing Test
9am-10am
P & C
MEETING
5.30PM (all
welcome)
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Silver Duke of
Edinburgh Test
Expedition
Year 12
Flexible
Learning Day
Year 12 French
Beginners Task
1 B - Reading
BARRENJOEY
BAND TOUR
Silver Duke of
Edinburgh Test
Expedition
Year 12
Photography
Assessment
Task
Year 12
Aboriginal
Studies
Excursion –
Sydney
University
Year 7 Surf
Awareness
Program – Palm
Beach
Band Rehearsal
3.15pm-4.30pm
MONDAY
DECEMBER 10
TUESDAY
DECEMBER 11
WEDNESDAY
DECEMBER 12
THURSDAY
DECEMBER 13
FRIDAY
DECEMBER 14
Year 12 CAFS
Task 1 Part A
Due
Year 10 Skill
Building
Activities
Year 8 Report
Distribution and
Interviews
Year 12
English Ext 1
Assessment
Task
Year 12
Physics
Excursion
(Luna Park)
Year 10 Skill
Building
Activities
Band
Rehearsal
6pm-8pm
Year 12 Textiles
& Design Task 1
due
Year 10 Skill
Building
Activities
Year 7 Report
Interviews and
Distribution
Year 12
Mathematics
Std 2 HSC
Assessment
Task 1, Year
12
Mathematics
Std 1 HSC
Assessment
Task 1
Year 10
Report
Distribution
and
Interviews
Year 10 Skill
Building
Year 12
Mathematics
and Standard
Mathematics
Assessment
Task 1
Year 10 RYDA
Safe Driver
Course – St
Ives
Year 9 Report
Distribution
and Interviews
Band
Rehearsal
3.15pm –
4.30pm
WEEK 9 (A) TERM 4
WEEK 10 (B) TERM 4
MONDAY
DECEMBER 17
TUESDAY
DECEMBER 18
WEDNESDAY
DECEMBER 19
THURSDAY
DECEMBER 20
FRIDAY
DECEMBER 21
Year 12 English
Advanced/
Standard/Studie
Assesment Task
Achievement
Evening 6pm-
8pm
Year 11
Flexible
Learning Day
WK B: Society
and Culture
Project
Morning
WK B: HSC
Drama IP
Workshop
School
Formal
Assembly
House
Celebration
Event
Band
Rehearsal
6pm-8pm
Year 12 CAFS
Task 1 Part B
due
Gold Medal
Reward
Excursion
(Wet’n’Wild)
LAST DAY
OF
SCHOOL
FOR 2018
EXCURSIONS TERM 4
NAME YEARDATE OF
EXCURSIONDUE AMOUNT
Maths On Line $30
WELLBEING
7
various
DUE NOW$30
8 $55
9
DUE NOW
$30
10 $110
11/12 $30
Dance Performance various various $200
Maths Competitions 7-12 $7 &/or $10
Band Tour 7-1230th November–
7th DecemberDUE NOW
Total = $750
Dep = $250
Bal= $500
Duke of Edinburgh
Silver Test Expedition10 6th- 8th December
22nd
November$450
Sneak peek at some of the
delicious recipes!
Great Christmas Present!
YEAR 9 TO YEAR 10 SENIOR UNIFORM
Time to purchase Senior Uniform
Homework club * Come and do your homework with the support
of a teacher
When: Tuesday afternoons 3.15 - 4.15pm
Thursday mornings 8.15 – 9am
Where: In Top Deck, upstairs in D block next to D18
Any questions ask Ms Smith or Ms Hines in the LASS staffroom upstairs in
C block, next to C12
Week/Date Focus
WEEK 7 HSIE Last homework club will
be Thursday 29th
November
SANDBAR CAFÉOperating Hours:
Week 7: Thursday 8am – 10am
Week 8: Wednesday 8am – 10am
Thursday 8am – 10am
Week 9 and Week 10 Café Closed
Come along and enjoy some of the delightful treats. Open to
our wonderful community, bring your family and friends.
CANTEEN ROSTER – TERM 4
Week 7 CANTEEN ROSTER
MONDAY 26 NOVEMBER Anne McWilliam
TUESDAY 27 NOVEMBER Help Needed
WEDNESDAY 28 NOVEMBER Help Needed
THURSDAY 29 NOVEMBER Help Needed
FRIDAY 30 NOVEMBER Jackie Sailer
CAREERS NEWSLETTER with Mr Moylan
The Barrenjoey Careers Website is a great resource for students, parents and
staff with information on careers and post school.
Good Afternoon everyone,
Here is the link to this weeks careers newsletter
http://bit.ly/bhscareersnewsletter261118
Year 10: Week 9 Skill Building notes/ payment are due now..
Michael MoylanCareers Advisor Year 9 Advisor
Week 8 CANTEEN ROSTER
MONDAY 3 DECEMBER Help Needed
TUESDAY 4 DECEMBER Help Needed
WEDNESDAY 5 DECEMBER Help Needed
THURSDAY 6 DECEMBER Help Needed
FRIDAY 7 DECEMBER Bridgit Osborn & Pauline Wright
SURVIVING YEAR 12
Get your copy of this special edition book $10
We have limited number of these updated special
edition “Surviving Year 12” books in the front office
for just $10.
A must for final year students and their families.
Written by Dr Michael Carr-Gregg a psychologist
specialising in adolescent mental health and
parenting adolescents.
In this edition:
- Advice to students on how they can cope with the
pressure
- Work smarter and actually enjoy their final year
- Overcoming anxiety and stress
- Setting goals
- Dealing with procrastination
- Ensuring exercise and diet regimes are good
- How to cope with the exams themselves
If you would like one of these AWESOME books please come to reception.
$10
ONLY 27 SLEEPS TO
CHRISTMAS