Memories of that school trip to Tasmania are few. I remember a triple-arched bridge spanning a river, I remember wandering from the group to stare and stare at the bridge framing the view. I remember the bleak stones of Port Arthur, the thick, sweet smell inside the Cadbury Chocolate Factory, barrels full of foil-wrapped chocolates, uniform-wrapped staff with hairnets above eyes that did not return gaze. I can’t recall a single conversation with a classmate. I remember the constriction of...