Month: November 2025

Crossing Generational Trauma- Wild Swans and Fly Wild Swans.

Women, Memory and Exile: A School Library Reflection

Adding Fly Wild Swans to our school library felt like a natural continuation of a legacy. Wild Swans has long stood as a canonical piece of literature, a book that captures the struggles of three generations of women against the backdrop of China’s political upheavals. In her second publication Fly Wild Swans, Jung Chang turns her gaze inward, reflecting on the cost of telling that story and the way truth can estrange a writer from her homeland. It is a pensive work that reminds us how women across centuries have shouldered familial and societal expectations, carrying memory and resilience even when nations would rather forget.

Jung Chang and her canons of literature

For students, these books are more than history. They are lessons in courage, in the power of memory and in the resilience of women who endured both familial duty and political oppression. Wild Swans explores the tension between tradition and rapid government‑driven progress. What was presented as modernisation often meant the destruction of customs and the breaking of family bonds as the Cultural Revolution tore families apart and demanded loyalty at the expense of tradition. Her story gave voice to three generations of women living through the upheavals of Mao’s China and this new work is written not only of her mother and her homeland, but of the burden of truth itself, and the cost of bearing witness when a nation would rather forget.

Fly Wild Swans reveals the aftermath of telling that truth, showing how a writer can be celebrated abroad yet silenced at home. Jung Chang turns her gaze inward, reflecting on the cost of telling that story and the way truth can estrange a writer from her homeland. Unlike Wild Swans, which focused on her mother and grandmother, this new work is more personal. It explores how writing Wild Swans changed her life, both opening doors in the West and closing them in China. There is a deep melancholy in her reflections on being unable to freely return to her birthplace. The success of Wild Swans brought her recognition abroad but estrangement at home. This tension between belonging and exclusion mirrors the broader story of women in history, who have often been celebrated for their endurance yet denied the freedom to define themselves.

I chose to buy Fly Wild Swans for my school library because it is a book that students should encounter, not only for its historical insight but also for its profound exploration of resilience, identity and the role of women in shaping and surviving history. Adding Fly Wild Swans to our collection ensures that the conversation continues, allowing readers to see how the legacy of truth‑telling reverberates across generations.

By placing both works on our shelves, we invite students to consider how politics, family and identity intersect, and how women across centuries have borne the burden of expectation while still finding ways to endure. These books remind us that literature is not static. It evolves, it questions and it carries forward the weight of generations.

Reflecting on the story of the shelves.

At the end of each school day, I wander through the library and notice the gaps and blank spaces.  Why? It is because the shelves never lie about the books that are loved the most.  These are the ones that stack tall on our return trolleys.  To be fair, they are also the ones that leave with another student almost instantly.  They are the ones with worn spines, grubby covers and suspicious stains on the pages.  Yet all of them tell me a story.  They all tell me something about our school community.

Non‑fiction loans follow the interests of the boys themselves, whether it be cars, music, military equipment, or funnily enough… anatomy. These choices show me that curiosity is not confined to the classroom but stretches into the interests, curiousities, passions, and fascinations that shape their lives outside the school grounds.

The sports shelves mimic the seasons almost perfectly. Footy fades as winter ends, and suddenly, cricket biographies and fiction surge forward, especially anything tied to the upcoming Ashes. It is as if the rhythm of the sporting calendar beats through the borrowing habits of our students, reflecting not just their interests but the pulse of the wider culture around them.

The novels tell another kind of story. Fantasy sagas rarely rest long before they are whisked away again, dragons, quests and magical lands offering both escape and courage. Contemporary stories about identity and belonging circulate steadily too, often returned with dog‑eared pages. Those books feel like companions, helping students navigate questions of who they are and where they fit.

Certain authors move faster than most. This year we have seen a sharp update in request for Orwell’s works that seemed to be borrowed by students who want to think critically, because his sharp observations on society still resonating decades later. King’s novels vanish quickly from the shelves too, his blend of horror and humanity appealing to readers who crave both thrills and reflection. Griffiths brings laughter and lightness, his quirky humour and imaginative plots offering relief from the seriousness of school life. Kinney’s books are snapped up by younger readers, his diary‑style storytelling capturing the awkwardness and comedy of growing up. Walliams adds another layer of fun, his playful characters and outrageous scenarios proving irresistible to students who want a quick, joyful read. Bancks, with his Australian voice and relatable themes, connects directly to the local experience, showing students their own world reflected back at them. Heath’s stories move quickly too, often chosen by readers who enjoy adventure and fast‑paced plots. And then there is Rowling. Her magical universe remains evergreen, with titles borrowed again and again by students who want to lose themselves in a world of spells and friendship. Dashner’s dystopian tales race through the library as well, his fast‑moving plots and high stakes gripping readers who love suspense.

And then there are the comfort reads. During exam season, familiar series, lighthearted tales and joke books fly off the shelves, as if students are reaching for something steady and reassuring when stress runs high. When headlines outside the school walls grow louder, books on social issues suddenly become popular, showing me how our community is engaging with the wider world.

Over time, these borrowing trends become a mirror. They reflect curiosity, resilience, joy and sometimes vulnerability. They remind me that the library is not just a place to find information, it is a living record of what matters most to our students at any given moment. Each book borrowed is a quiet signal, a way of saying, this is what I need right now.

Together, these authors form a chorus of voices that shape the identity of our school community. Orwell challenges us to question, King dares us to feel fear and empathy, Griffiths and Kinney make us laugh, Walliams and Heath keep us entertained, Bancks grounds us in our own backyard, Rowling invites us into magic, and Dashner pushes us to imagine futures both thrilling and uncertain. Their collective presence on our shelves is more than entertainment, it is a reflection of the many ways our students seek to learn, to grow and to belong.

And as the year turns, the shelves whisper back, carrying the heartbeat of our community in every borrowed book.

Sundays, Libraries, and the Quiet Crisis in Reading

The 10 year old child’s haul.

On Sundays, our family has a rhythm. We go to church in the morning, then its off to our local library. The kids scatter to their favourite corners, borrowing books and settling in to read whatever strikes their fancy. The only rule is, that for every book that is a re-read, there must be one you have not read before.

This week’s book haul – mine.

Whilst my children scurry to their favourite genres, I grab a coffee and wander the shelves, letting my eyes land on whatever catches my eye. My husband always chuckles at this part. “You work in a library,” he says, amused. He’s right, of course. I do. But I work in a boys’ school library, and let’s just say the collection doesn’t quite float my boat. We then settle down for 30-45min of quiet reading together, but all on individual journeys.

Cook, S. (2025, November 5). It will take more than the new Children’s Booker Prize to arrest the dramatic decline in reading enjoyment. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/it-will-take-more-than-the-new-childrens-booker-prize-to-arrest-the-dramatic-decline-in-reading-enjoyment-268777

There’s something different about being in a space where reading is chosen, not assigned. Where stories are picked for pleasure, not performance. That contrast has been sitting with me lately, especially after reading Loh et al.’s 2025 report on the decline in volitional reading and a recent piece in The Conversation about the new Children’s Booker Prize. Both paint a sobering picture: young people are reading less, and they’re enjoying it even less than that.

Loh, C. E. et al. (2025) The Decline in Volitional
Reading: Evidence-Informed Ways Forward.
National Institute of Education, Nanyang
Technological University, Singapore.

Loh’s recommendations to improve literacy success.

  • agency
  • access to literature
  • time in daily routines
  • reflection and connection
  • social interaction
  • developing a positive reading identity

What struck me most in Loh’s report was what wasn’t there. None of the key principles mention curriculum reform. None suggest that testing is the answer. Instead, the focus is on joy, choice, and connection. Reading for pleasure is framed not as a luxury, but as a necessity. It’s a stronger predictor of reading attainment than socioeconomic status. That’s huge. It means that if we want to close literacy gaps, we need to open up space for enjoyment.

In my school library, I see the tension. Boys who associate reading with assignments, comprehension questions, and accelerated reader points. Not with curiosity or escape. Not with laughter or awe. And I wonder: what would happen if we let go of the scaffolds and trusted them to choose? The Conversation article makes a similar point. Awards like the Children’s Booker are lovely, but they won’t shift the culture on their own. What we need is a reimagining of reading in schools. Less about outcomes, more about experience. Less about control, more about trust.

Furthermore, parents need to remember that they are their children’s first educators. Is reading and literacy your household value? One of the key findings in Loh’s research is that children need access to literature and to see it modelled by the adults around them. Do parents take their kids to the library? Do they read in front of their children? Or do they presume that schools will take care of it? Do they even ask their children how often they visit the school library? These questions matter. Because when reading is visible and valued at home, it becomes part of a child’s identity, not just a school subject.

So here’s my quiet Sunday reflection: maybe the best thing we can do as educators is to make room and provide time. Room for stories that speak to our students. Room for browsing, for borrowing, for reading without a worksheet attached. Room for libraries that float their boats and time to lie back and float away.

Because when reading becomes a choice again, it becomes a joy again. And that’s where the magic lives.

Fiction is a safe place to break the rules

I recently attended the QSLA conference at the beautiful State Library of Queensland. It was a fantastic day for school informational professionals to gather, share emerging news, identify new trends and trade in good old fashioned work chit chat.

Andy Griffiths – author of the famous Treehouse series, was our keynote speaker. I have known of Andy’s work for almost a decade. Whilst I have admired his works, I hadn’t fully appreciated his philosophy until now. His words, much like his books, were playful on the surface but deeply subversive underneath. They invited us to reconsider not just how children read, but why they need stories that break the rules.

Griffiths and his co-creator, illustrator Terry Denton have created the inventive, imaginative chaos that is the Treehouse series. I found it amusing that they named the main characters after themselves. Their fictional versions live in an ever expanding treehouse that defies logic and gravity, expanding with each book to include ludicrous additions like a marshmallow machine, a tank of man-eating sharks, and even a volcano. Their adventures are reckless, absurd, and often dangerous. But that danger is never real. It’s theatrical. It’s safe. It’s fiction.

… and that is the point. It is fiction as Andy pointed out last week to a large group of educators and informational professionals.

Fiction is a safe place to break the rules.

I was mesmerised by this quote. That quote stayed with me. It echoed through the conference halls and followed me home. In an article published by the ABC in 2018, Griffiths argued that fiction as a “last frontier”, a place where children can explore worst-case scenarios without consequence. He said: “Books are the last frontier of freedom and wilderness for kids, for imagining dangerous things, for imagining craziness and worst-case scenarios” (Blau, 2018).

This was so true. In a world increasingly obsessed with safety, structure, and supervision, Griffiths’ books offer a counterbalance. They don’t just entertain their readers… they liberate them! They allow children to imagine running across six lanes of traffic or jumping into a volcano, not because they should, but because they can. In fiction, the consequences are exaggerated, the outcomes are ridiculous, and the lessons are embedded in laughter. Griffiths uses humour to engage the reader and builds into that playful sense that children have. As Griffiths said last week, “Reading is a game between the reader and the author. Authors make black marks on pages. Readers use these marks to make an image in their heads.”

I then thought about all the other books that ‘helped me break rules’. Darryl and Sally hosting midnight feasts at Mallory Towers, Matilda using her brain to solve problems, Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew resolving mysterious events. Each of these characters and books gave me option I may not have thought of previously.

Leaving the conference, I felt a renewed appreciation for the role of literature in childhood. Not just as a tool for literacy, but as a sanctuary for wild thought. Griffiths reminded us that imagination isn’t just fun. It’s vital. It’s how children rehearse life, test boundaries, and build resilience.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s how they learn to be free.

What books set you free?