Michael Gerard Bauer Author

I am thrilled that my book Just a Dog has made the shortlist for 2011 Children’s Book Council of Australia Award in the Younger Readers category. It’s a real honour to be on a list with the following wonderful books and equally wonderful writers and illustrators.

Bauer, Michael Gerard Just a Dog Omnibus Books, Scholastic Australia
Bongers, Christine Henry Hoey Hobson Woolshed Press, Random House Australia
Branford, Anna; Ill. Sarah Davis Violet Mackerel’s Brilliant Plot Walker Books Aust
Carmody, Isobelle The Red Wind Viking Books, Penguin Group (Australia)
McKinlay, Meg; Ill. Leila Rudge Duck for a Day Walker Books Australia
Murphy, Sally; Ill. Rhian Nest James Toppling Walker Books Australia

 It’s obvious to me that the CBCA Judges will be faced with a terribly difficult task in selecting a winner, so I thought I’d just put forward a few suggestions and a couple of observations that might help make the task a little easier.

Now I know what some of the more cynical amongst you will be thinking about now. ‘I bet he’s going to try to influence the judges to somehow choose his own book.’

Well, shame on you! Just because a number of the Judges are disgraced ex-members of FIFA means nothing! They are all totally incorruptible and beyond reproach. (I know this because Chris Bongers told me all her cheques have been returned uncashed and my offers of romantic candle lit dinners for two have been met with howls of laughter.)  

So anyway in the spirit of ‘no strings attached’ goodwill, I offer the CBCA Judges the following advice:

1. To avoid the terrible accusation of gender bias, it would make perfect sense to just give the award without fear or favour to the only male on the shortlist – whomever that may be.

2.  Of course you also don’t want to leave yourself open to claims of being ageist either so perhaps you could just go for the most mature amongst the nominees. (Isn’t it delightful to see so many gorgeous young women being nominated this year!)

3. We all know that during the Second World War Australian citizens with German ancestry or even just those with German sounding names (eg Beckenbauer; Bauerhoff; Bauerhaus) were often badly treated and unfairly discriminated against. Isn’t it time we started to redress this injustice? I say ‘Ya!’

4. There have long been rumours that the CBCA is over-run with ‘cat people’ and is therefore anti-dog. Ridiculous you say? Well ask yourself this – When was the last time a book about a dog won a CBCA prize? Never! Has the CBCA ever made an official  statement supporting the role of dogs in literature? No, they have been suspiciously silent on the whole issue! All just coincidence? I think not!   

5. Finally, I think what we all want from a CBCA winner is someone non-controversial. I mean, we don’t want to announce the winner with great fanfare and then have a Miss Universe style scandal on our hands do we?

Now I don’t for a minute intend to cast nasturtiums on the good names of my fellow nominees, however ….

CHRIS BONGERS: Look I know Chris. We’re good friends and neighbours. I love her dearly. She even launched my book Just a Dog for me here in Brisbane. Her own nominated book Henry Hoey Hobson is fantastic … but  … it does have that slight undertone of vampire-ishness and questionable creatures of the night.

Do we really want our kids caught up in the Dark Arts? Now I’m not for a minute suggesting that Chris Bongers is the female version of Voldemort or anything like that … but have you ever heard her speak out against him? I don’t know about you, but I find this all passing strange ….

ISOBELLE CARMODY: I’ve had the thrill and honour of meeting Isobelle a few times. She is a wonderful writer and absolutely lovely … and yet … she seems to spend a lot of her time holed up in Prague. I’m sure it’s all perfectly innocent. But do the words ‘Tax Evasion’ mean anything to you?

SALLY MURPHY: Sal is another great writer and also a facebook buddy of mine (along with Chris and Isobelle). She is a beautiful person and certainly beyond the ugly tentacles of scandal … except … I have a terrible suspicion she cheats at Scrabble!

“Surely not!” I hear you scream. Yes, I’m afraid so. I have seen evidence of this very thing myself. Many times on facebook I’ve stared horrified as she makes up words that couldn’t possibly be legitimate just so she can win. Do we really want to give a CBCA award to someone who plays fast and loose with the very building blocks of our language? (That’s called a rhetorical question. A rhetorical question is one where the expected response is implied or understood. But just in case you have any doubts at all, the answer here is, “NO!!!!”)

MEG McKINLAY: I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Meg but from what I read she’s had an interesting and varied background. For example: On the long and winding path to becoming a children’s writer, Meg has worked in a variety of jobs including swim instructor, tour guide, translator and teacher.

Nothing wrong with that I hear you say … only … how come she can’t hold down a steady job for long? Now I’m definitely not implying that Meg might be unstable or unreliable and therefore shouldn’t be trusted with the country’s most prestigious literary award. That would be for others to judge – psychiatrists and mental health experts spring to mind.  I’m keeping right out of it. (But seriously, that is a lot of chopping and changing of occupations. And did she move on of her own free will or was she pushed? I guess we’ll never know.)

ANNA BRANFORD: I haven’t met Anna either so obviously I am in no position at all to make comments on her suitability or otherwise as a CBCA winner … however … there were a couple of things that caught my eye when I read her biographical details. Things such as: Anna Branford was born in the Isle of Man and spent her early childhood in Sudan and Papua New Guinea before moving to Australia.

Makes you wonder why she had to move around so much doesn’t it. I mean, what were you running from Anna? Then it goes on to add: Anna is a doll maker and a sociology lecturer at Victoria University. Doll maker? Sociology Lecturer? Given her globe-trotting exploits, does any of that really seem plausible to you? International Arms Dealer I’m guessing!

Anyway that’s about all I have to say about the awards. I’m more than happy to leave the decision in the very capable hands of our wise and perceptive CBCA JUDGES.

Although I think we’d all agree that a unanimous vote for a mature aged, dog-loving, male-type-person of German ancestry, who has led a boring and therefore saint-like and blameless life, would be a breath of fresh air!

Cheers
Michael

ps And if any CBCA Judges happen to be reading this. Remember that fine food, candle light, wine, a hot tub and me are just a phonecall away …  

A previous blog concerning Infrequently Asked Questions included this one:

QUESTION 7. From a teacher as we make our way through a school playground narrowly avoiding riots and food fights.

Teacher: Michael do you ever miss full-time teaching?
Me: Would it be rude and insensitive if I just laughed hysterically about now?

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I’d just like to make it clear that the above response was more about how happy and how blessed I feel now, for being given the chance to be a fulltime writer, rather than a criticism of the teaching profession.

I love teachers. They are probably my favourite people – along with librarians and children’s authors and illustrators. 

The vast majority of teachers are remarkable and inspiring. And they are paid less than half of what they are worth in my opinion. I have taught with amazing people who I can say without exaggeration were doing the equivalent of three normal fulltime jobs. I felt very proud the day I graduated and was able to say I was a high school teacher. It is a noble and important profession.

Teaching has also given me some of the best days of my life and many of my most treasured memories and dearest friends. But as the song says, ‘Some days are diamond. Some days are stone.’ And some days even make stone seem appealing. I guess like any teacher worth his or her salt, I had my fair share of ‘hard’ teaching days.

Many mornings I remember waking up and absolutely dreading the day ahead and having to fight to convince myself to face up to it. Sometimes I failed. 

These days, I don’t think I could survive a year of fulltime teaching. Maybe not even a Semester. I’m spoilt by the school visits I do as an author. I even have the hide to refer to them as ‘work’. I’ve gotten soft and I know it. I don’t have the stamina anymore to teach fulltime. Or the dedication. Or the courage.

I wouldn’t go back to it, but I wouldn’t have missed my teaching experience for the world. I may have found it a tough, hard slog at times, but magic happens in schools.

On top of Ayres Rock with girls from Mt St Michaels College Ashgrove

Here’s just one example of many from my experience:

Back when I was still trying to write my first novel I took a semester full-time teaching contract at an all girls’ school in Brisbane. Along with other classes I had two Grade 8 English groups. I loved them. At one point we were doing Oral Presentations.

There was a girl in one of the classes who hated speaking in front of people. It terrified her. Let’s call her Susan. She was very shy and sat by herself. She didn’t seem to have any close friends. I tried to help her as much as I could with the preparation for her speech and to build up her confidence but when the day came for her turn she was petrified.

Susan made her way to the front of the class with her notes trembling in her hands. She didn’t look up once. Any words she manged to squeeze out were so quiet and shaky you could hardly hear them. As she stumbled her way agonizingly through her speech she unconsciously shuffled back from the class until she had literally hidden part of herself behind a curtain.

Then, when she lost her place, it all got too much and she just broke down and cried.

It was heart-breaking to watch, particularly for someone like me who, like Susan, hated public speaking when I was at school.

Of course I did my best to comfort and reassure her. I told her to forget about it, that it didn’t matter and that she could have another go the next morning.

When I headed off to that English class the next day I was dreading a repeat performance and I was wracking my brain to come up with ways to help Susan get through her ordeal.

I needn’t have worried. There were others who had it all under control.

Before I got to the room I was ambushed by three girls from Susan’s class. They had bought one of those monster ‘Good Luck’ cards and they’d gone around before school and got everyone in the class to sign it and write Susan a message of encouragement and support. I was the last one. They wanted to present the card to Susan before she made her second attempt at speaking.

So that’s what they did and lots of the girls came up and gave Susan a hug as well. Susan cried. Happy tears this time.

How do kids get to be that beautiful? That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times as teacher and again these days as a regular visitor to schools.

Armed with the love and support of her classmates, Susan made it through her presentation.

I gave her a D+.

I know that sounds terribly cruel, but had I graded her honestly according to the criteria on the marking sheet, both that letter and the degree would have been even lower.

I don’t think it mattered anyway.

Of the two items – my assessment sheet and that Good Luck card – I’m fairly certain I know which one Susan has kept and treasured more than gold to this day and which one she would have tossed aside and forgotten long ago.

Magic happens in schools.

Cheers
Michael

ps In a future blog I’ll give an another example of magic in schools just to show that boys can be equally as beautiful.

When we were young if ever my brother and sisters and I asked for something that our mother Elsie considered ‘over the top’ she would chastise us by saying, “You want portholes in your coffin!”

For example:

“Mum can I have a some stale crust to go with my bowl of steam?”
“You want portholes in your coffin!”

“Mum will you buy me a piece of string for my birthday?”
“You want portholes in your coffin!”

My mother had quite a few of these stock responses.

If she was finding us particularly galling and annoying she would hit us with one or other of these two dire warnings, “You’ll be laughing on the other side of your faces soon!” or “Someday the shoe will be on the other foot!”

At least she did, until the glorious day arrived when she got so angry and flustered that she came out with, “You’ll be laughing on the other side of your foot one day!” This of course resulted in much hilarity and Mum was never able to use either expression again without someone quoting her mistake back at her.

For me, mum’s most irritating stock response was the one she often gave when you asked her a question.

“Mum why can’t I stay up and watch The Twilight Zone?”
“Because Y is a crooked letter and you can never make it straight.”

“Mum in a triangle, why is the square on the hypotenuse equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides?”
“Because Y is a crooked letter and you can never make it straight.”

“Mum why do bad things happen to good people?”
“Because Y is a crooked letter and you can never make it straight.”

Thanks Mum. I just knew there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for all those mysteries!

Sadly I tried to apply my Mother’s wisdom in a Science exam at school one day.

QUESTION 12. Why do different liquids have different boiling points?
ANSWER: Well I’m not sure on all the specific scientific theory behind it but according to my mother it’s because Y is a crooked letter and you can never make it straight.

(Here’s a tip to any students out there – you get no reward for attempting to be funny in a Science exam.)

My mother actually had quite an arsenal of responses especially designed for deflecting questions.

“Mum what are you making?”
“A wig-wam for a goose’s bridle.”
“Really? Looks just like a cake.”

“Mum why do girls have different bits to boys?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Of course with my mother being such a tremendous font of information and my father only being around at Christmas, it’s little wonder I grew up knowing next to nothing.

These days Adrie and I also have our own stock responses.

For example if one of us has been away – perhaps at work or down to the shop or maybe even just in the next room – and we return, the other one will invariably say, “So, you came crawling back then?”

I don’t know how or why this started, but there is some strange satisfaction to be derived from  sneering at your partner when they return from the toilet and declaring self-righteously, “Hah! So you came crawling back then!” Try it. I highly recommend it.

Some of our stock responses come from movies and TV.

For example if I were to tell Adrie that I love her, then 9 times out of 10 her reply would be, “And I tolerate you.” This is just one of dozens of lines that are often repeated at our house from the hilarious Lano and Woodley TV series.

Oh and just in case you’re interested Adrie’s 10th response to my declaration of love usually is, “Of course you do. I’m adorable! (And Dimity if you’re reading this, she is not funny and she should not be encouraged.)

I get my own back by quoting a Lloyd Bridges line from Flying High.

Ard: Mike, don’t you think you should give the lawn a mow?
Me: No. That just what they’d expect me to do!

But there was one particular line Ard and I always used to look forward to quoting.

It came from a children’s picture book called Bruno’s Band. The book was a family favourite. (Which is really saying something because the main character is a cat and Ard and I aren’t exactly cat people. Sorry cat people.)

Anyway in the story Bruno the cat lives with a family who run a cafe. But Bruno longs to see the world and experience another kind of life. So he heads off and has adventures and meets fellow travellers and fellow musicians along the way (if I remember rightly Bruno plays the fiddle) and they form a band  out on the road. Then, when Bruno eventually tires of travelling he returns home with his new friends only to realise that this is where he should be. The final image is of Bruno and his band playing in the cafe with people laughing and sharing good food and good cheer around him.

The story ends with: “This is the life,” said Bruno. “There is no better life than this.”

Back when Ard and I were both teachers, and it was finally December and the stress and busy-ness of another hectic school year was over at last, we would smile and quote those lines to each other. Often at the time, we would be lazing with the kids  in a resort pool somewhere on the Gold or Sunshine Coast with the Christmas holidays stretching out before us.

Sometimes like Bruno, it pays to sit back and think about what you’ve got and the good things in your life. I know that whenever I do, I feel very fortunate indeed.

Of course if I could have portholes in my coffin, then everything would be perfect!

Cheers
Michael