We catch up with the Herald's millennium ones to watch - teenagers from all walks of life whose lives we will track as they help to shape the future of this country.
Amber Hunt, ballet dancer
The Nureyev biography lying on the shelf was an early Christmas present from Amber Hunt to her mother.
" ... so I can read it too," she laughs. At the end of the second year of her three-year course at the New Zealand School of Dance, Hunt's life and dreams still revolve around dance.
Her days begin with an hour's walk before school. "It's a good way to start the day. You have time to yourself and can start thinking about things."
She arrives at school at 8 am. Classes start at 9. She has two each morning, classical and contemporary.
Then, as she's majoring in classical dance, the afternoon has more classical lessons and theory work. School finishes at 5.45 pm. On Saturday morning she's one of eight girls who practise "with the company" - her beloved Royal New Zealand Ballet.
As well as the long days comes the friction between students who spend most of their waking hours together ("there hasn't been too much," Hunt says) and the relentless focus on diet and body shape.
"That's really hard. I don't want to say too much about it, but ballet is a visual art."
While several classmates have ended up in casts, thankfully she's had no serious injury this year.
"The highlight of the year," she says, "was a tour for a month through the North and South Islands. It was called the Adrenalin tour. I was one of eight classical students chosen and we did 10 destinations."
She calls it her "work experience" and loved being on the road, especially seeing the South Island for the first time.
When her mother points out that Hunt was the lead for the tour, her daughter blushes.
But it's a good sign at a time when competition between dancers is heating up. One classmate already has a job in Singapore. Another, Hunt's flatmate, has an audition in Monte Carlo. Hunt has received "half a nod" from the RNZB that there may be a place for her.
There will be changes for Hunt in 2001. If her flatmate is accepted into Monte Carlo, Hunt will have to find a new home.
"I'm going to have to start working next year as well.
"If I don't get into the [New Zealand] company I've got to have other options and that means having money to to go overseas.
"I think now I do want to get overseas and see the world, but I would rather have a couple of years here first. And I'd always want to come back."
Being so focused on dance, her social life is limited.
There has been no time for boyfriends. When energy allows she does all the normal things - parties, movies, cafes, dinner. But it's usually with other dancers.
But that's still the world she loves.
"When you get out on stage and perform, I don't know if it's the adrenalin or what, but it's the most amazing buzz."
- Tim Watkin
Labinot Zeqiri, student
Zeqiri cannot wait to join the e-revolution, hoping a job there can lift his family back into the mainstream of life. The young refugee from Kosovo has finished the first year of a computer science degree at Auckland University.
"Before we left our country I had taught myself to set up a website. It's not something I've been able to keep up. But I'm hoping to work as a java [software] programmer eventually."
So what better place for a summer job than at Dick Smith Electronics? The Zeqiri family remain in Pakuranga where they settled after fleeing the chaos that was Pristina. The family, father Hysem, mother Shpresa, and Labinot's siblings Milot and Kaldrina, fled a comfortable middle-class existence with only a bag of food and medicine each. They journeyed to Macedonia before finding temporary refuge in Glasgow, where they were accepted as part of this country's humanitarian settlement intake in 1999.
Zeqiri is adapting to his new home. For his father, a railway administrator, and his mother, an accounts manager, it has not been so easy. They remain unemployed and they have yet to gain fluency in English.
Zeqiri: "Yes, that is hard. It has been a long time." He and his siblings have sought after-school jobs to help out, but the family is not as independent as it would like to be. For Zeqiri, a computer science qualification means as much to his family as it does to him.
- Gilbert Wong
Chamathka Dias, Herald Scholarship winner
By the time you read this, Chamathka Dias will be enjoying the beaches of her homeland, Sri Lanka. The Dias family decided it was time to spend two months with relatives and friends they left behind.
Dias was one of two students awarded $3000 scholarships from the Herald and the Education and Scholarship Trust.
After missing out on a place at Auckland University's medical school in 1999, she applied again and has completed her first year.
"It was great. I really enjoyed it, though it was a lot of work, hard work."
Her father, Asoka, was a family doctor in Sri Lanka, her mother Malini, a maths and physics teacher, before they came to this country to provide a more secure future for their children four years ago. Neither parent has been able to pursue the jobs they trained for. Malini is completing chef training while Asoka continues to study to pass examinations to register as a doctor in New Zealand.
With scholarship passes in five subjects, Chamathka Dias has put her knowledge to work as a maths tutor for high school students, enabling her to quit a part-time night job in a supermarket bakery.
"That's a relief. It's a lot easier tutoring than working in the bakery."
It means more spare time. She has spent it as any young person does, with friends, watching videos and planning what to do on the extended family holiday.
"There's great beaches there. I'm looking forward to just relaxing and seeing my friends again." But right now, she's happy to be following in her father's footsteps. "I think I will do fine in my exams. I'm really looking forward to next year. I can't wait to become a doctor."
- Gilbert Wong
Matthew Atiga, rugby player
Each time Matthew Atiga came home for holidays during his first year at Otago University, his father Fred saw a more mature, wise and budget-conscious young man.
When the Herald spoke to him last year, Matthew, a former captain of Auckland Grammar's First XV, had his heart set on a professional rugby career.
His plan to move from player to coach to administrator is still intact after passing the first year of his two-year sports diploma. But right now Atiga, who is part-Tongan and part-Samoan, has joined relatives in Tonga for the summer holidays.
A family wedding is planned for January, and in the meantime he and a cousin are working on a business venture, but are keeping the details confidential.
His father says Atiga enjoyed the year at Otago and may even look at entering a degree programme once his diploma is complete.
- Jan Corbett
Marjorie Vega, young mother and student
Frantic is probably the best word to describe Marjorie Vega's life.
In the past year, the Porirua teenager gave birth to her third child, Jahnivah, sent her oldest, Cody, to school, reconciled with the father of her children, Riki Ihe, and continued to study full-time to chase her dream of becoming a lawyer.
"Nothing much exciting has happened, but I guess I have been pretty busy."
When Chile-born Vega arrived in New Zealand with her family as a little girl, she wanted to be a flight attendant. "They always looked pretty and got to travel to exciting places."
But becoming a mum at 14 put that dream on hold. Vega had dropped out of Porirua College at 13 because her pregnant form was straining against her uniform and people where whispering behind her back. All her money went on cigarettes and alcohol.
She entered into a destructive relationship with a glue-sniffer and wanna-be Mongrel Mob member who assaulted her. He ended up with a life sentence in prison for bungling the robbery of the Naenae TrustBank and killing bank teller Bill Brown.
It seemed unlikely she would get her life back on track or return to education - but that's when Susan Baragwanath came along.
Baragwanath heads He Huarahi Tamariki in Porirua, New Zealand's only school for teenage parents and their children. She used to hang out in shopping malls on benefit day to recruit new students, and it was there she spotted Vega and began badgering her to come to class.
When the Herald visited Vega at the school a year ago, life was looking up. She was sitting school certificate Spanish and computer science and had decided to become a lawyer.
She had reconciled with her partner, Ihe, and they had a daughter, Aquaniya, now 2.
A year on, Vega is still a full-time student at He Huarahi Tamaraki. She passed her school certificate papers and achieved four assessment passes in a pre-university correspondence course in legal studies.
She and Ihe are coping well with a third child after moving in with Vega's parents.
"Things are going pretty well with me," Vega says. She plans to begin law school at Victoria University in two years.
"Law is a good choice. I am pretty good at arguing and I want to help people out who haven't been as lucky as I have."
"When I think of what else I want in the future, it will always be for my kids to be happy. I want them to be raised in a good environment and never be in need of anything like food. I want them all to stay in school and learn. My biggest fear for my children is that they have kids when they are kids, like me."
- Alison Horwood
Isa Tangianau, head boy
School's out for Isamaela Tangianau. And judging by the whoops of joy coming from the South Auckland house of Tangianau's uncle, where he and his mates are hanging out, it's going to be a good summer.
Last year Tangianau topped his Southern Campus sixth form in four out of five subjects. This year he was first only in biology, but did "all right," he says, in his other subjects. He did have big responsibilities: as head boy he had to "be an example to the other students." He's having the summer off - last year he spent the holidays working at a kitchen assembly plant from 7.30 am until 10 pm - before starting his tertiary education at the Manukau Institute of Technology. His marks were good enough for him to be guaranteed a place at university but Tangianau, who is dedicated to his home and family, decided the campus was too far from the Mangere East family home.
He'll be studying computer engineering, which sounds as much like fun as it does like study: "I really like computers, I like playing around with them." He might stay up visiting chatrooms online late into the night, but the faithful churchgoer is up early on Sundays to worship in the Emmanuel Faith Fellowship with his family. The 18 year-old who said he would never drink alcohol has stuck to his principles.
Tangianau is no longer in a relationship. For now, he says, "I want to be single." Relationships, he says without wanting to elaborate, "have their ups and downs."
But mostly, "it's been a good year. A hard one too." And there are three years of hard study ahead, then "get a job." And he wants to do another course in mechanical engineering. In three years he reckons he'll be the guy fixing computer faults.
- Michele Hewitson
Helen Gregory, returning to university
The year, says Helen Gregory, has been "a bit of fun and games." Last time we spoke to her she was deciding whether she'd continue with her three-year bachelor of sport and recreation at the Auckland University of Technology, or pursue a career in management for the McDonald's chain.
The glint of the golden arches seemed to offer more. Gregory went on to be promoted to assistant manager at the Otara store, lasted two weeks, then quit after a situation with a manager became unbearable. She took three months off work, went back to work for one week, broke her finger. She's been back at work for a month now as part-time assistant manager. She is a bit disillusioned about the way things have worked out. "That's why I'm going back to university."
It was always going to be a hard choice: to continue her education or to move into the workforce. Making the wrong decision, she said a year ago, really worried her. Now she's more philosophical: "I'll be at the same stage as everybody else my age because I went to uni a year early. I made that decision and it backfired. But at least I had a back road."
She broke up with her boyfriend Kieryn. She's now living with her partner of nine months, Matthew, who has just finished a bachelor of commerce and is doing management training at Foodtown. They're having a nice time. "It's definitely long-term." They're living in Sandringham in Matthew's mother's house while she's in the United States, rent-free in exchange for looking after the place. That, and the fact that Matthew is supportive, might mean that Gregory won't have to work the 35-hour weeks that characterised her first year's study. The fiercely independent Gregory has relaxed a bit about letting people who care help her out.
This year, "in a way, I asked for Mum and Dad's help a lot especially with the McDonald's problem. [She was without a wage for three months.] I just thought, when it started to happen, Mum and Dad are wise, they'll know what to do."
Gregory is now "really happy. I love my new store [McDonalds in Panmure] and I'm happy that I'm going back to university."
And there is something hopeful. In 1999 Gregory had made contact with her birth mother who she hadn't seen for six years. "I saw her once after I last talked to you and I actually stayed the night down there, in Tokoroa. Yeah, it was scary but it was quite good. Good to catch up." She planned to see her birth mother again before Christmas.
If the year career-wise has been a bit trying, Gregory hasn't changed her goal: to be teaching Outward Bound courses. "Still that. As long as it's with kids and outdoors."
- Michele Hewitson
Lily Fraser, medical student
Two years after she started at Auckland Medical School, Lily Fraser is testimony that its Maori And Pacific Island admission scheme works. The much-discussed scheme, designed to bring more Maori and Pacific Islander doctors into our wards and medical practices, means that in Fraser's year, around 20 per cent admissions were of Maori or Pacific Island origin.
And two years into her six-year course, the day after her 20th birthday, Fraser has passed everything put in front of her. "If you're able to write an essay and do research, basically you can do anything. It doesn't matter if you work in Maori or English," she says, eyes gleaming. "I've been lucky. At the moment I feel I can get into study mode - but you never know what's going to happen in life. If you muck up just one semester you're in trouble. You can't just do the paper again."
Fraser found the transition to year two - and a much higher workload - tough. She puts at least part of her success down to two extra factors: the support provided by her colleagues, plus the Maori and Pacific Island department at the medical school.
"In our class there are about 30 Maori and Pacific Island students and we organise study groups and tutorials. We really encourage each other, make sure friends turn up to lectures and pass on lecture notes if they do miss. And our pass rate is getting higher. It's really on a par with mainstream students."
Fraser, who identifies much more strongly with her Ngai Tahu side than the Pakeha blood that obviously flows through her veins, was educated at a kohanga reo and became one of the foundation pupils at the country's first kura kaupapa (Maori language-speaking secondary school) at the Hoane Waititi Marae in Glen Eden. The family consult a tohunga rather than a doctor, and visit the family marae in Otakou on the Otago peninsula at least once a year.
Despite a continuing drive to work with children, Fraser is most interested in being a GP.
"In hospital you're at the end of the line, seeing the sickest of the sick," she says. "GPs really get to know their patients - have some impact on their lives by working with their primary health."
Part of her role as a member of the admission scheme group is to go out into the community with her colleagues and act as a role model to young Maori and Pacific Islanders.
- Carroll du Chateau
Karl van Eyk, dairy farmer
This time last year, 19-year-old dairy farmer Karl van Eyk outlined his plan for a life on the land. As we move into 2001 he's several steps nearer his goal.
He has moved on from his first farm to a part-labourer, part-managerial position on a 300-cow dairy block; lives independently on a house on the farm; has gained a certificate in agriculture from Waikato Polytechnic plus an Agriculture Industry Training Organisation certificate in agriculture; and saved $8000 to put himself through a full-time diploma in agriculture at Massey University in Palmerston North next year.
Most of all, he's enjoying himself.
"In dairying you always have to progress," he says. "And you learn on the job. I've picked up lots of skills here that I wouldn't have learnt at polytech." What exactly? Van Eyk reels off a list. How to tell when a cow's ready to be mated. Learning the difference between managing a herd of high yielding, high-fat milk producing jersey cows and 530 Friesian crosses. Keeping a 20-stand herringbone cowshed in working order ... and that's just the start.
All this knowledge is achieved alongside a daily routine that requires van Eyk to be up by 4.45 every morning in time to start milking at 5.30, and back in the cowshed from 3 pm until 5.30 in the evening - not to mention spot checks on the calving paddocks through the night during June, July and August.
"It's pretty non-stop," he says. "But I love it. It'll be hard to leave the farm next year and go to a different part of the country, but it will be a real challenge for me." His voice brightens, "My boss says I'll be able to come back."
Once he graduates from Massey, van Eyk's medium-term goal is to improve his formal education further with a six-month working holiday - probably to Europe. His aim: to learn about the other side of dairying where cows are kept indoors and hard-fed most of the year. "Their methods are more intense, with small herds.", '
But long-term, van Eyk's dream is back in New Zealand, managing his own herd. "It's a big step up to buy a herd," he says.
"Many more years of budgeting, buying groceries once a month to save money, doing it hard. But I'll get there."
- Carroll du Chateau
* Mark Huang, the 10th person the Herald spoke to, could not be contacted this year.
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