Captains’ Corner | College Captain, Oliver Seawright

A school day goes for six hours and 45 mins. There are five in a week. There are 37 weeks in a school year. Most guys play sport. Let us say a student plays two terms of sport per year. With 90-minute training sessions and a game on Saturday, that student spends 111 hours a year wearing the red and black at sport. The average Terracian, not including public holidays, spends 1312 hours a year on school campus. For a guy beginning his journey in Year 5, that is 10 496 hours spent at Terrace. For those eight years, he spends 24% of his waking hours at Terrace (assuming he sleeps for nine hours). 

It is easy to think that schools are solely a place for hitting the books; that schooling success is defined by the little number that the computer spits out at the end. They are not. If I can add numbers properly and school really does take up a quarter of your teenage years, then a school is almost as much a home as an actual house. 

On Tuesday, myself and some Seniors with varying musical abilities, performed a song called “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (a great tune in itself if your Spotify playlist is looking a little dull). We performed this song in particular, not for the school to laugh at Tom Burns’ tone deafness, but to ignite a feeling that, hopefully, becomes ingrained into Terrace culture. For those who have heard about it or seen it on Facebook, no one actually slept on Internationals Oval at Tennyson, but that notion of ‘sleeping at the school’ is symbolic of the many hours Terrace boys invest in their schooling and the hugely significant role that Terrace plays in the life of the boys. 

I believe firmly that at school, quadratics and frixion pens are secondary to relationships and happiness. Whilst Terrace is known for its academic prowess, there is a strong emphasis on the development of the whole man; the gentleman. What do I mean by that? Terrace produces good men. When 189 blokes grab their Old Boy tie and hug it out with their mates on November 15, the world receives 189 good men; guys of humility, knowledge and wisdom. 

“Home”, to us, is more than a word. It is a shift in perspective. When the bell goes at 8.25am (or doesn’t go because the bells are broken), it should put smiles on faces, not make hearts sink. The bell, to me, is a reminder that I am part of a community; something far greater than anyone who belongs to it. The bell, at whatever weird time it rings, reminds me I am home. On that note (a note, probably off-key if played by us), I will leave you with some of the lyrics from “Homecoming” – The Terrace version. 

God Bless.

Our Home, let me go home
Home is when I’m at GT!
Our home, let me go home
Home is when I’m at GT!
La, la, la, la, take me home.
GT, I’m coming home.
College Hall to Billet Street…
Stomping to the drumline’s beat…
Fans and stands and loud war cries…
Terrace spirit never dies…
Home is when I’m at GT!
Home is when I’m at GT!