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EXPLORE

Summer Edition 2013

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Welcome to the 2013 Summer edition of the EXPLORE

Magazine.

We hope you enjoy it; thanks for reading!

Mr Clark Spills the Beans .............................................................................................. 3

‘Thud Thud Thud’ by Alexa McCraw S4 ...................................................................... 5

Les Miserables - A Film Review by Declyn Tracey .................................................... 7

My Life in Books ............................................................................................................ 8

Human Bearbaiting ...................................................................................................... 10

A Night at the Opera .................................................................................................... 13

We Like That Stuff by S1 ............................................................................................. 15

PL Gallery ..................................................................................................................... 17

CONTENTS

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Mr Clark Spills the Beans Shelby Garrity, Hannah MacFarlane and Declyn Tracey ventured into Mr Clark’s ground floor bat cave to uncover the deepest, darkest secrets of his teenage years.

When you were at school, were there different friendship groups, for example, mods, rockers or skinheads?

Yes, there were lots of different friendship groups and only some of these were based on musical preference. I suppose the two main music subcultures were Mods and Punks.

When you were at school, what friendship group would you class yourself in?

When I was a first year at school, I thought I was a Mod and then it took me till the end of first year to work out that I didn’t look anything like a Mod. At the first year disco, all the Punks were horrible to me, so I quickly showed no backbone whatsoever and evacuated Mod music and joined a crowd who chose to get into rock music for the next bit of my

confused youth.

Why do you think you were a member of that friendship group?

I think that the unfortunate answer is that I did that because most of my pals were into rock music. I don’t think I did it on the basis of musical merit although there was a lot of enjoyably loud stuff that I listened to as a result of it.

How did stereotypes of teenagers and their friendship groups affect you and the way you acted at school?

I think it makes me slightly nervous every time I hear rock music because I still like it but I don’t think I would like to go back to wearing a denim jacket with various patches all over it.

Do you think you belong to a particular friendship group now?

My friendship group now is probably formed from people who liked rock music in second and third year and then abandoned it at a later stage in their secondary education. Actually, most folk I know are quite into football and politics and share similar views about those areas of life.

How do you feel about the stereotyping of young people?

I think stereotyping is really depressing. I think there’s always some truth in a stereotype. For example, there are more Scottish people with red hair than there are from other nations. However, I think to immediately assign personality and behaviours to

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somebody just because they belong in a particular group is really unhelpful and leads to a lot of conflict.

Do you think stereotyping can be the cause of bullying?

Yes, unfortunately, and I think it’s something that we work really hard to overcome; I think that ultimately the only long term solution to that sort of bullying is young people, themselves, changing their perception of stereotypes. As adults, we can manage the situation and we can encourage young people but, ultimately, the decisions have to be down to young people themselves and I hope the work we do at Preston Lodge encourages more people to make good decisions in this area.

Do you think stereotyping people or stereotyping yourself is a big problem in schools generally?

Yes, although I do think that young people in particular are quite prone to making judgements about people on the basis of the way they look or the way they behave and I think education’s job is to challenge that kind of behaviour.

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‘Thud Thud Thud’ by Alexa McCraw S4

Thud, thud thud

He’s unsure whether the noise he hears is the creature’s own footsteps or just his own panicked heartbeat — there’s no longer anything to differentiate between the two sounds. It’s just that noise and the pressing claustrophobic darkness of the closet where he hides, pressed up against musty fabrics. He hasn’t seen another soul in God knows how long. He has no means whatsoever of monitoring the passing of hours: not even the windows to the outside world are of any use. Thick white fog curls at the glass panes, denying him so much as a hint of sun or moon light. He doesn’t think the fog is real.

Thud, thud thud

He’s fairly certain that it’s his heartbeat now — there’s no accompanying sound of the creature’s rumbling breaths or its gurgling efforts to zone in on his scent. Yeah, just him, him and the closet and a mansion full of corpses.

Oh God… He chokes back a sob — don’t think of that, don’t think of that, don’t think of that. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? He knows it: they’re all dead, all of them, lying in pools of their own blood or the blood of those they tried to save. Just him now, just him.

He hasn’t heard anything in a while — maybe it’s safe now? Quick, go! Get out of the closet, Arthur… Ha, if Francis knew he’d thought that, he’d never hear the end of it. He ignores the little voice whispering that he’ll never hear the start of it, let alone the end, and edges open the door. A creak escapes the hinges: he freezes.

Nothing comes.

One foot out, then the second. Shoes lightly resting against the floorboards, he slides down and then all of a sudden, he’s standing again for the first time in what feels to have been millennia. His legs tremble so violently he’s afraid he’s going to collapse but he forces himself to take another step forward and then another.

Nothing comes.

Okay. Okay. He can do this: just walk right up to that door and walk right out and find the damned front door. He’ll kick it open if he has to; he’ll… He swallows. That’s where Feliciano died, or at least it was the last place he saw him alive. That was their last stand, his final chance to save one last soul, and he had failed. It was supposed to have gone after him goddammit! But it changed course at the very last moment and went after the skinny defenceless stick of a man instead, leaving Arthur all alone.

He tells himself to be glad that sweet naïve Feli doesn’t have to go through this, comforts himself with claims of it’s better this way: this would have destroyed him, but I can cope, right? Wrong. Truthfully, he’s not glad at all. He wishes he, himself, had been the one to die because then he wouldn’t have to go through this torment. There would be no more worrying, no more fear, no more pain.

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He tells himself how selfish that is but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming.

One last step forward and he’s at the door. An arm stretched forth and he’s grasping the handle. One swift movement and he’s out into the hallway. Slow steadying breaths; a panic that threatens to overwhelm him.

Nothing, just nothing.

A whimper tears its way from between his teeth. It’s never away this long, never. But then, before, it had others to occupy its time with; it had enough victims to choose from that it could afford to go in for the quick brutal kills and unending onslaught. Except now, down to the solitary survivor; it had to make this one last; it was going to draw this death out.

He shuffles forward, barely able to lift his feet off the ground. His heart is racing so fast he thinks it’s going to burst out of his chest — perhaps that was the creature’s plan all along? It’s going to kill him with his own terror. He — who thought himself so strong, who swore there was nothing on this earth that could scare him — is going to die cowering in a comer, eyes squeezed tightly shut so that he can not see that which hunts him. He allows himself a soft chuckle at the irony but it’s quickly choked off.

A floorboard squeals, and then the next and the next and the next after that until it seems he’s playing a game of musical footsteps. He stops and he gets the sense that the entire house has stopped as well, that it’s listening intently, that it’s excited. It knows where its prey is now, it knows his position and it’s coming for him.

A low terrified keening rends the air, so animalistic it takes several seconds for it to register that it originates from his own lips. He bites down, so hard that it draws blood, and coppery liquid trickles into his mouth - warm, salty, a welcome reminder of the life still pulsing within his veins. But it’s too late.

Thud, thud thud

It comes from behind him and there’s no way he can pass this off as his heart this time, which belts out so frantically the individual beats are no longer discernible. And there it is: slobbering, heavy breaths that to him signify the end.

He breaks into a spring, running helter-skelter in the opposite direction, launching himself at doors, rattling handles fruitlessly. Locked, locked, all bloody looked and its one big messed up game now because they were open: he knows they were, except now they aren’t and he’s stuck and it’s right behind him.

His lungs aren’t working properly — he can’t draw in enough air but he can’t stop either: he needs to get away, to get as far away from this godforsaken place as possible and then he’s going to arrange to have it bulldozed or bombed or something, so as long as its flattened, and then, only then, will he achieve some semblance of peace.

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Stairs, towards the stairs. His uncoordinated limbs falter and he trips and suddenly he’s flying but he picks himself up and continues regardless of the new pain in his ankle. The noise he’s making is not even remotely human now, a throttled mixture of breathless sobs and wordless cries that are turning the inside of his throat into sandpaper. He can hardly concentrate, thoughts descending into oxygen-deprived slurry, and he doesn’t realise he’s running into a dead end until he’s done just that and he can’t turn back.

He skids to a stop, chest going like the bellows in an effort to recover. Not enough, not enough: it’s breathing down the back of his neck - he can’t escape; he’s stuck.

He opens his mouth and screams.

Les Miserables - A Film Review by Declyn Tracey Les Miserables is probably one of the most anticipated cinematic events of 2012. For fans who have cried and cheered during the stage production, the wait for the 2012 movie was a long one. And were we disappointed? No! Everyone needs a good greet. After Hathaway finished “I Dreamed A Dream”, grown men were left with teary faces, claiming “She was all right.” The best thing is, when an actor cries onscreen, it isn’t one of those –pretty- one -tear -streaking –down- a- cheek -tears…it’s ugly, emotional tears that are produced because the characters are in the depths of despair.

The film is, of course, treated with proper seriousness and the only comic relief is Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter robbing people and chuckling about it afterward. Every single performance is enough to tear you up. If Samantha Barks singing about her undying love for someone who doesn’t return the favour isn’t enough, I’d like to see you hold back your tears when Eddie Redmayne grieves the loss of his beloved friends.

Although the film is set over a considerable period of time, it is Russell Crowe’s “Inspector Javert” chasing Hugh Jackman all over Paris that sets all the action into motion. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know what I mean when I say Russell Crowe’s voice is a little rough, but let’s hand it to the man- his voice suits the character of an Inspector raised in prison. Even if he isn’t the most likeable character, Crowe does him justice and he is probably one of the best actors I’ve seen take on the role.

Ever since the first trailer was released, I knew Les Miserables was going to be big, and there’s a little twist thrown in there that gives the performances so much more realism.

Director Tom Hooper chose to have all the characters sing live on set, instead of pre-recording the songs and miming along. Amanda Seyfried revealed that they had a hidden earpiece in their ears, where the sound of a piano playing would accompany them and get them ready for all those tears. This gave the film that electrifying feel you get watching a show live. Along with all this, the sets and the fight scenes at the Barricade during the climatic scenes during the French Revolution are spectacular. It really annoys me when people say the movie will suck because there is practically no speaking. It’s mainly sung though, even when they would just be speaking, they belt out an operatic scale.

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This actually helps the story. Enjolras singing about what he wants in the future is more moving than him simply speaking it. The lyrics aren’t rubbish either; they keep us hooked, wanting to know what will happen next. And the orchestra- they played so well it’s no wonder that after the movie finished the whole audience in the screen stood up and clapped, tears streaking down their faces. The film conveys such a positive message, that all the depressing stuff going on seems to be for a good reason. It shows that social injustice is cruel and all the underlying stories help propel it along. Also, it’s all about holding on to hope; there are a few happy endings and moments where you smile because you’re happy for someone. After all, no-one likes a movie where everyone dies!

My Life in Books

Harry Potter

Childhood is a time of magic. A time where you can be anything or do anything you want because nothing is impossible and, if you can dream it, you can achieve it. Childhood is a time of madness, brilliance and randomness. Harry Potter was, is and always will be, my childhood. Whenever I pick up one of those inspiring novels I can disappear into the new world that I think of as my second home. For a whole day, an hour or even just twenty minutes I can experience childhood again. Harry Potter has taught me so much. Harry taught me that goodness can overpower evil and that bravery and love are the powerful magic there is. Ron taught me that sometimes letting other people take the spotlight is okay. Hermione taught me that it is acceptable to be smart and that you don’t have to be the prettiest girl in the world and it’s okay to be a little plain. Most importantly of all, Neville showed me that with hard work and dedication you can be anything you want to be. I have read the books multiple times and I never get bored or tired of the plot lines. I laugh at the jokes that Ron or the twins come out with. I cry when a character whom I cherished dies. And my heart races when my favourites are in danger or Harry is saving the day by defying Voldemort yet again. To me, it’s not just a book. To me, it’s not just a story. To me, it’s my life.

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I discovered “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” a while ago, before the film was made. I instantly fell in love with the plot and the characters. I love how it’s written in the form of letters but through the letters we get so much emotion. People might say that it is stereotypical but I don’t think it is. Personally I’ve never read anything like it. Normally when books are adapted into films, the most important things to me are lost, but I think the film is a relatively good adaptation, although I would still read the book over watching the film a million times.

Reviews by an Anonymous Wallflower

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Human Bearbaiting There must be something better to do with your mornings other than lounge around on the sofa watching daytime television, yet many - in fact most – people tune in with a cup of tea in one hand and the remote in the other to watch The Jeremy Kyle Show. For those who don’t know what the Jeremy Kyle show is, it is a show that deals with confrontations between families, friends and everything else in between, often linked to drugs, alcohol, sex, crime and violence. Jeremy thinks he can solve all of these issues in approximately forty minutes by ranting and raving at those who have supposedly done wrong and sympathising with those who have supposedly been wronged. If you think this medieval freak show couldn’t get any more dramatic, a lie detector test or DNA test is frequently used to find out whether an individual has been lying, or to reveal whether a man is the biological father of a child. This show should simply be taken off air, yet it has lasted a colossal one thousand four hundred plus episodes and is still going to this day.

The producers and Jeremy Kyle himself claim they are “helping” the people on the show, but if they genuinely wanted to help people, why do they have to broadcast people’s lives on television? The show is aired on ITV or in Scotland on STV so anyone with a TV- which is basically everyone- can watch every week. On top of the potential millions who tune in, there is also a live studio audience. It isn’t a rarity for the audience to laugh and sometimes even boo the guests. Why would someone want the whole nation to know their business? That they are an alcoholic, a drug addict or a victim of domestic abuse?

Some guests seem embarrassed and often resort to running off the stage, throwing violent tantrums. While many people who watch the show think it’s harmless, that it’s just a bit of fun, imagine yourself in that situation: you’re twenty three, a drug addict, your life is going nowhere and a job is out of the question; suddenly you

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get a phone call from the producer saying that you could be a father. You accept the invite and you turn up to be laughed at, booed and for your whole life history to be told to everyone and anyone. This is just another reason why this show is utterly grotesque.

Frequently, when friends or relatives of the show’s guests enter the stage, having heard backstage what has been said, strong language and fights break out, although the latter are never shown. Instead, the camera gives a view of the audience and Jeremy until his security team restores order. This has led to the show being compared with Roman gladiatorial combat because of its brutality. In 2007, one particular episode got out of hand and ended with a man head butting his love rival; he was subsequently charged with assault. A Manchester Count Court judge, Alan Berg, discussed the case in court, during which he called the Jeremy Kyle experience “human bear-baiting” and continued, “These self-righteous individuals should be in the dock with you. They pretend there is some kind of virtue in putting out a show like this.”

What the Jeremy Kyle show claims to offer is help to people who need it. However, the validity of the help that is provided to guests has been called into dispute. Professional psychotherapist, Phillip Hodson (who was offered the chance to work on the show), claimed that he believed the ratings were more important to the show’s producers than solving the guests’ problems. A former producer for the show claimed that the production team encourages guests to react angrily to one another. It has also

been alleged that the producers “plied an alcoholic guest with beer before he appeared on the programme”. ITV has denied these claims saying that “guests are not deliberately agitated before appearing” and the show provides to its guests “proper, professional help, funded by the programme, which has really and undeniably helped hundreds of people”. I think not.

This show isn’t the only one of its kind; Jeremy Kyle has somehow hit the US market and he now has “Jeremy Kyle USA”. So Jeremy Kyle wasn’t done when he gave we British citizens a stage to publically humiliate both ourselves and our families; he took It to America as well!

The Jeremy Kyle show is a show that people often enjoy without thinking about what they are actually watching. This show exploits vulnerable, often unfortunate individuals whose lives are put on show due to mistakes they may have made, often when they were under the influence of alcohol or drugs or even because they are not bright enough to realise that they are being exploited. The show is unrealistic with Graham the “wonder counsellor” who promises to come up with the solutions to all their problems, but can one man really do all that? Can one man sort out the years of abuse some of the individuals have suffered? In conclusion, I’m sure that many people criticise The Jeremy Kyle show — and they are correct to do so — but

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then tune in every morning like clockwork every week. Arguably, that is one of the main problems; this pitiful excuse of a show does pretty well when it comes to ratings, so you could say that we are partly to blame for the long run that Jeremy Kyle has had. I hope that in the future people see right through The Jeremy Kyle show to an extent where its ratings are so bad that it is forced to go off air.

Sean Reekie S4

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Character Descriptions

He stared into the cracked mirror of the hotel room and ran his skeletal hands through his combed, sleek black hair. He slid his watch onto his wrist and buttoned up his crystal white shirt. He sat on the bed and put on his expensive shoes, then stood up and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it because he wasn’t planning on coming back. He wore a straight face as he walked out of the building and onto the empty, run-down street, where stray dogs lurked and homeless people rummaged through rubbish bins looking for scraps. The street was dark without streetlights and he had to be careful not to bump into the wrong person. The people who did come near crossed the road as soon as they saw him come towards them. He paused to light a cigarette, then continued walking until he reached the busy, lit main street. People moved out of the way, creating paths through the crowds. Parents pulled their children away from him and dogs whimpered and hid behind their owners. Finally, he spotted the person he was looking for. She was sitting outside the café where they had said she would be. He approached her silently from behind and tapped her on the shoulder with a bony finger. Her eyes widened in fear at the sound of his rasping voice. “I’m here to talk,” he said. By Claire Baillie S1

A Night at the Opera A shape moved in the smoke. A figure emerged, silhouetted against the flames of the collapsed building. A long coat, open, flapped around in the cold night wind like the wings of a demon. Short black hair, carefully oiled and combed lay back across his head. His coal black eyes scanned his surroundings. The moonless night would have been impenetrable to human eyes, hiding him from observers. Not that there were any, he had ensured that.

He strolled down the steps with the air of someone who had just enjoyed an evening at the theatre. Which, in a way, he thought sarcastically, he had.

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They would blame it on a gas leak, or a cigarette. The authorities always did when there wasn’t an obvious explanation. The person known as Ethan began to sift through the ash, searching. One of the firemen tasked with making safe the wreckage came within a metre of him without even looking. It wasn’t that he didn’t see Ethan; it was just that his subconscious quietly assured him that he didn’t exist.

After an hour or so of digging through the ash and splintered wood, he found the clue he had been searching for. From Ethan’s hand hung a silver chain, untouched by the flames of the previous night. The small heptagon attached to the chain was engraved with a simple rune on both sides. A grimace crossed his face.

Leaving the remains of the theatre, he passed what he supposed would have been the stage door. He passed the police cordon and the fireman and the police officer engaged in discussion. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he speed-dialled a number. Putting it to his ear he said shortly, “The Dr’s dead.”

By Matthew Fox S1

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We Like That Stuff by S1

Cheesestrings are made of it

No you can’t borrow it

Rubber

I like that stuff

Glowing signs are made of it

Sandwiches are packed in it

Neon

I like that stuff

Tesco shoppers eat a lot of it

Cows are relieved when they see it

Horsemeat

I like that stuff

Pips and juice are found in it

Worms wiggle around in it

Apples

I like that stuff

People have crispy chips with it

People who have a fake tan look like it

Curry sauce

I like that stuff

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Crowds of people sit in it

Score a goal it’s loud in it

Stadiums

I like that stuff

Teenagers are addicted to it

Social lives are ruined by it

Mobile phones

I like that stuff

Lots of cows produce it

It comes out of their udders I know it

Milk

I like that stuff

Paper can be covered in it

A spectrum of colours within it

Ink

I like that stuff

Grandchildren cuddle it

Also borrow money from it

Grandparents

I like that stuff

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PL Gallery

Julie Ralston S4 Olivia-Innes S6

Julia Murphy S5

Courtney Ritchie S5

Amie Buchanan S4