Biscuits, blue notebooks, daunting empty pages, somewhat tired teenagers on a Friday afternoon frames the first few moments of First Story sessions, followed by chatting, perhaps hesitating, definitely filled with trepidation. And then, the pages start to fill with lines; with feelings, with hurt, with happiness, with angst, with tremor that can only get louder and louder with creativity, talent and inspiration. Every year, I think this is the best; can’t get any better; and every time, I stand in their awe. Amazing. Any other word won’t do!
St Martin's with the incessant inspirational students who are titans in my eyes: the future resting secure on their brittle shoulders. Laying bare their souls for the world to see is a Herculean task which comes naturally to them. Cherished Friday afternoons have gone past too quickly but they have left a huge imprint on our lives as the anthology embroidered by their voices bears witness. A speck in time. A singularity. The Year 10 girls who started First Story as nervous, somewhat reluctant and resistant have become accomplished published poets. I am convinced, dear reader, that you will be enthralled in their world as I have been.