“So the difference for my grandpa was…” His voice faltered, the bravado that had enabled him to speak out ebbing away. Natalie held her breath. Perhaps she shouldn’t have let them go down this path of comparing floods to bushfires, what was the same, what was different, but it was the first time the whole class had been engaged in a topic this year and so she’d run with it. It had developed from NAPLAN practice, not the topic that Paul Brown, the new principal now observing her class, had instructed her to do but the object of the exercise was the same. The annual test was done for this year, only a couple of weeks ago, and her class deserved the chance to explore topics they were interested in.

She studied Joel as he took a deep breath and then another. The young boy had just poured out how his family had been trapped on their property by a bushfire just before last Christmas. They’d lost everything, including his grandfather, and now he seemed to have lost his voice.

His thin shoulders lifted and his dark eyes searched out Natalie and held her gaze, and she saw his strength return. “Maybe if it had been a flood he could have got away, Mrs King.” His voice was steady, his tone low.

She wavered a moment, disquieted by the principal’s presence, then she gave her brave young student a reassuring smile. His mother had told her he never spoke of the fire or his grandpa. “That certainly may have made a difference, Joel. He was a fine man, your grandpa, I’m sure he would have done his best.” The whole community had been devastated when the experienced CFS volunteer had become trapped by the fire and lost his life.

A soft rustle rolled around the room, a subtle shifting in seats, a rub of a cheek. The sharing of their experiences of bushfires had been an intense forty minutes. From the corner of her eye she saw Paul unfold his arms, straighten as if he was going to say something then sag against the cupboard again.

The sharp tones of Annalisa Drummond cut the silence. “Floods can be bad too.”

Natalie stood up and gave the little girl a reassuring smile. “Yes, Annalisa, your family’s loss was also very sad and had many similarities.” It had been three years since the flood in their district, which had been another local tragedy. Several other children began to talk. “We’re going to hear from those people with flood stories next week. Would you be happy to wait and share your story then?”

Annalisa’s face softened and she gave a nod of her head.