Annual Review 2007-2008 - The Royal Commonwealth Society

network of tiny fibres and capillaries
which remove the toxins in our kidneys
and that beautiful painting of a coral
head was crystals of oestrogen, which is a
female hormone secreted by the ovaries
that stimulates the menstrual cycle and
the growth of breasts. Without it we as
females would be unable to have
children.”
“But Ms Wigglesworth why couldn’t
you have just told us that in the first
place?” Marcus asked in confusion.
“Well Marcus, there is the world on
the inside of the human body, and there
is the world on the outside. We see the
world on the outside everyday, but the
world on the inside is not something we
are likely to encounter, so I felt it was my
duty to describe some of it to you. The
world on the outside is your skin colour or
your size and shape. The inside world is
all about cells and tissue. As art is judged,
so are we, but like the paintings we are
judged by the outside world – what is
visible to the naked eye. These
judgements, in the case of human beings,
lead to discrimination, racism, pain and
are the cause of unnecessary feuds that
have been going on in the history of
mankind for years upon end. So how can
we separate human beings from one
another without discrimination or making
stereotypes?
“Maybe we should judge people on
what is on the inside. However, it would
be rather difficult because what I failed to
mention is that on the inside everyone is
the same. My blood is the same colour as
your blood. My stomach cells look like
baked beans as yours do. Our museums
have the same paintings. So what should
we as mankind use to differentiate
between the right and the wrong? If it’s
not the world on the inside or the world
on the outside, what is it?”
The class remained impeccably silent
as Ms Wigglesworth continued, “Maybe
it’s the world in between. The world of
knowledge, emotion and thought. The
world between both the inside and out
that neither art nor science can capture.
The world that gives us ground to judge
people based on their opinions, feelings
and quality of thought, not on how much
they weigh, their colour or whether they
are a Christian or a Muslim. This, students,
is the message of today’s lesson. Look not
to what is on the outside or the inside of
people you know or may come to know
but to what is in between wor…”
“Ms Wigglesworth?”
“Yes, Marcus?”
“The bell rang five minutes ago.”
Andrew Wesson
The Academy for Gifted Children –
PACE, Canada
First Prize, Class D in the 2007
Commonwealth Essay Competition
Colours
Friday 4:55 p.m. Crayola Corporate
Office:
“Do you have the colours?” my boss
asked urgently, five minutes before
quitting time. I handed him a list of
crayon colours for a new box of 64
crayons. He read them with absolute
disgust. “We have already used all of
these colours before!” he said, “Every
single one! They aren’t original! I need 64
completely original crayon colours by
Monday morning or you’re fired!”
I was sweating buckets, but the first few
came quite easily. By the end of the night I
had done 57 with 36 hours left. I let myself
contemplate actually earning a promotion.
Saturday 11 p.m.
I headed to bed, having not thought of a
single colour all day. My confidence was
badly shaken and my family was getting
annoyed at my neglect and bad mood.
Sunday 1 p.m.
After a morning of nothing at all, I would
have to miss my daughter Grace’s dance
recital if I wanted to keep my job. I tried
to tell her calmly and appeal to her sense
of reason. After all if I had no job, how
could we afford the ridiculously expensive
dance lessons and poufy skirts? After the
ensuing argument (read ‘one-sided
screaming match’), my daughter shouted,
“I hate you!” and stormed into her room,
slamming the door. I thought about the
years of therapy she might now need and,
suddenly, it came to me: “Anger
Management Red!” Maybe my dry spell
was over.
Sunday 8 p.m.
I came in from mowing the lawn in near
darkness hoping to have missed the
weekly ‘Sunday Night Homework Panic’
starring my son, Sam. As I crossed the
threshold I saw my wife wild with anger
and briefly contemplated heading back
out to weed whack in the moonlight.
“Wait, ‘Weed Whacker Green’.”
It turned out that my son’s backpack
was filled with the dreaded yellow sheets
indicating that he had not done his
homework for several days straight. I
sliced through the din to come up with
‘Homework Notice Yellow’! Kids can
relate to that! Promotion, here I come!
As I made my colour notes, I was
vaguely aware of the escalating situation.
“Do you have any idea how many….?” As
she lectured poor Sam, I noticed that I
could count the veins on her neck. It was
a little scary, but then it hit me: ‘Popping
Vein Blue’!
Monday 8 a.m.
I needed three more colours, and I was
burnt out. Hey! ‘Burnt-Out Brown’. Now I
was down to two more. My wife and my
children weren’t speaking to me, and I was
going to be fired by 9:05. Miraculously, it
came to me ‘Pink Slip Pink’.
As I backed out of the driveway, I
noticed I was about to run over the hose.
When I got out of the car to move it, a
sudden wave of pain shot up my leg and
a poisonous snake slithered away. My leg
instantly started to swell up and turn
purple. ‘Number 64 – Poisonous Venom
Purple’! I shrieked in delight.
Monday 9 a.m.
I no sooner got into my office, dragging
my swollen purple leg behind me, when
my boss bounded in. As I started to tell
him about the good news, my voice
slowed by the venomous fog of my recent
poisoning, he interrupted me. “Jones, I
had a brainwave. It’s brilliant. We’re going
RETRO – little box, 8 colours: red, blue,
yellow, orange, purple, white, black…”
“And sick-to-my-stomach-green”, I
thought as I keeled over, hit my head on
the floor and lost consciousness.
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