Page 15 of Wild Horses

Christy dipped her brush into a paint palette, her strokes confident as she demonstrated the effect of light on water to her students.

Thankfully her set design skills transferred easily to the art room.

At first she’d been nervous about the kids’ reputations as delinquents and troublemakers.

But in her weeks of teaching them she’d discovered that they were no more unruly than some classes at St Luke’s College.

The same techniques of distraction and engagement worked as well here at Currawong Creek.

She got the feeling that the main difference between her former private schoolboys and Currawong Creek’s problematic teens was their parents’ bank balances.

That didn’t apply to Leo though. Tyler was a wealthy man.

Yet all his money and Australia’s top boarding schools hadn’t been enough to keep his son out of trouble.

The transition from teaching drama to teaching English and art had been easier than she’d imagined.

Today she was combining the two subjects into a double period.

The students were painting a river scene from this term’s English text.

She knew from experience that giving restless students something to do with their hands helped focus their attention.

And the narrative tools she’d once used to dissect Shakespearean plays now helped her explore the complexities of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness .

‘Think about Marlow’s journey down the river.’

‘How can we?’ asked Ben, a fair-haired kid with a sharp sense of humour. ‘It’s not in the blurb.’

Christy let the laughter die down. ‘Well, for those of you who’ve actually managed to read this very short novella, the river is more than just a setting – it’s a character. It represents the unknown, the darkness lurking within us all.’

Leo’s brow creased in concentration. ‘So, when Marlow talks about the river, he really means the wild parts of our minds.’

‘Exactly. Themes of light and darkness guide us through the characters’ inner landscapes, much like the balance of light and shade that we’re exploring in our river paintings.’ Christy pointed to her own canvas, where twilight fought the encroaching night.

The lesson was cut short by the clang of the bell.

How had the time passed so quickly? ‘In our double period on Thursday we’ll be watching selected extended clips from a movie.

We can’t watch the whole thing because it’s rated R.

’ A few cheers went up. ‘ Apocalypse Now is an epic war film—’ More cheers this time.

‘A film loosely based on our text, with the setting changed from the nineteenth-century Congo to the Vietnam War. It follows another jungle river journey into Cambodia, this one undertaken by a Captain Willard.’

‘Why does he go?’ asked Leo.

‘He’s on a secret mission to assassinate a renegade Special Forces officer who’s accused of murder and is presumed insane.’

Leo whistled approvingly.

The students began to pack up, their chatter filling the space with youthful exuberance.

Christy smiled, collecting brushes and closing paint pots.

It had been a terrific morning. She really enjoyed these classes.

The afternoon wouldn’t be so terrific though – another equine therapy session supervised by Maggie.

There was a silver lining, however. Today would be the final time Christy would have to put up with that woman’s constant criticism.

Maggie was off her crutches – still in a moon boot but fit enough to take classes again.

This took the pressure off Christy, who would continue to have equine therapy duties with the beginners.

Clare had observed her last few workshops and pronounced Christy competent to take them by herself.

Christy couldn’t wait for the chance to run the sessions her way.

She’d clear it with Clare first, of course, but she wanted to make them less about formal instruction and more about simply having fun with the horses.

Christy washed her hands and then headed towards the stables.

Pausing by the paddock gate, she took a moment to watch Leo bringing Lofty in.

The gelding shook his sleek black mane and pawed the ground playfully.

Leo mirrored him by digging the toe of his boot into the grass a few times and tossing his own head.

He blew gently on Lofty’s muzzle, and the horse reciprocated by nickering into Leo’s face.

Their bond was heartwarming and the boy’s natural affinity with horses undeniable.

Christy felt a surge of pride – not only for Leo’s talent but also for the trust he’d begun to extend to her.

Over the last two months Leo and Lofty had become inseparable. Leo had taken to having breakfast at the stables with his favourite. He’d take a stack of Vegemite toast, fill Lofty’s hay net and they’d munch side by side, just chilling.

Christy sometimes joined them in this peaceful time before their day began. Leo would be sitting on the worn old bench near Lofty’s stall, the horse’s head leaning over the door, sharing the toast. Christy would make her own toast offering to Lofty, and then sit beside Leo.

In the quiet that followed, filled only with the soft sounds of the stables waking up, Leo would talk.

He’d talk about growing up without a mother, his voice carrying a load that seemed too heavy for his young years.

He’d talk about the fire in a restaurant that had taken her away when he was just five years old, leaving a void that nothing had been able to fill.

He’d talk of lonely years at boarding school feeling like an outsider – unable to connect with peers who didn’t understand his grief – and of his growing resentment of a father who seemed more like a stranger than a parent.

Christy would listen, her heart aching for the boy beside her, offering silent support.

As Leo talked, Lofty remained a steadfast presence, his occasional nuzzle against Leo’s shoulder his own form of comfort. It was as though the horse understood Leo’s pain and loneliness.

Christy, moved by Leo’s trust in sharing his story with her, found that her respect and affection for the complicated teen were growing.

These moments weren’t just about a boy and his horse sharing breakfast. They were about Leo finding a safe space to express his feelings, and about healing.

And in those still mornings, with Lofty as their witness, a special connection was forming between teacher and student.

Leo helped halter and prepare the horses for the other students. Christy had asked Clare if she could appoint the boy as her official assistant.

Clare had smiled her agreement. ‘What a great idea. Leo’s still having some challenges with following rules. Giving him more responsibility should help with that, and he’ll be a genuine help to you. I’m giving him riding lessons, you know?’

‘Yes, he told me.’

‘Leo’s picking it up like he was born in the saddle. Hard to believe he hadn’t so much as touched a horse before he came here.’

Today’s task would be to lead the horses over and around a series of obstacles in the arena.

A frustrated Bree was tugging too hard on Buster’s head, causing him to baulk and pull back.

Leo, who was watching from the side, stepped forwards.

‘Don’t turn it into a fight, Bree. Here, let me show you.

’ Taking the lead rope, he let it go slack.

Then, adopting a confident stance, he gently coaxed the gelding along.

‘Come on boy, we can do this.’ Buster followed him around the course on a loose rein, stepping in and out of the truck tyre, jumping the cavaletti and willingly negotiating the ramp.

The teens applauded when they finished. Christy realised this was the perfect teaching moment.

‘See, it’s all about how you communicate with your equine partner,’ she said.

‘There’s no place for distractions, fear or anger.

You need to pay complete attention to your horse and show quiet confidence before they will trust you as their leader. ’

Encouraged by Leo’s example, the class took turns in the arena.

Each teen had their moments of triumph and challenge.

Christy found herself learning alongside her students, and Leo’s knack for understanding and communicating with both the horses and other students was a welcome asset.

Christy and Leo offered tips and encouragement, and by the end of the session all the students had successfully completed the course with their horses.

The atmosphere was one of camaraderie and achievement.

Maggie couldn’t resist a final jab. ‘Maybe we should get Leo to teach your next class, eh, Christy?’ she quipped, loud enough for everyone to hear.

For once Christy confidently met her gaze. ‘Perhaps,’ she conceded with good humour. ‘But today, we’re all learning from each other, Maggie. Even you might learn something if you’re not careful.’

The teens, who’d been initially so unsure, left with smiles and stories to tell. Christy buzzed with satisfaction and pride. Today had been a terrific lesson in leadership, in turning mishaps into moments of learning, and in recognising the potential in everyone – herself included.