I’m sitting down to write this with the most incredible view
at my feet. I’m perched at the top of a beautiful, isolated waterfall an hours’
drive out of a tiny community that is essentially the absolute middle of
nowhere. It is difficult to think of negative aspects of the Top End when I’m
surrounded by a roaring waterfall, crystal river, and towering rock faces
beneath a sweeping azure sky.
Since I arrived in the Territory, it has been a tumultuous
rollercoaster ride. There are days that you just want to go home and roar in
frustration – and there are days that are so inspiring and empowering that you
want to gleefully dance around the living room. There are definite challenges and
trials, but I’ve learnt more in three months than I had in 22 years.
I’ve learnt the importance of networking, and reaching out,
and the significance of personal outlets. It’s a tough gig, this teaching
thing, and made tougher by the added weight of assignments and uni workshops.
If you don’t have someone you can vent to, about the bad things and the good, you’ll
go crazy. Use your networks, rely on your cohort and your old family and
friends – but branch out. Become part of new networks, immerse yourself in the
community. The small town and transient nature lead you to meet inspirational,
like-minded individuals, and there is an unbelievable amount of support offered
from all angles.
I’ve learnt the difficulties of distance from family and
close friends, but also learnt how to effectively manage that distance. You
learn to use your time effectively, to prioritise and utilise different methods
of communication. You’re not going to be able to go home every weekend; you’ll
miss out on family dinners, and friends’ birthday catch-ups, and that band that
you’ve wanted to see for years. But the time flies and you have Skype and email
and phones, so often the distance isn’t so poignant.
I’ve learnt to go without many of the comforts of home.
There are no gourmet cake shops in this town. There are no theatres, no
world-class galleries, no zoos and majestic museums, no comedy festivals, or
bowling rinks, or big music concerts. On first appearance, the town doesn’t
have a lot to offer, entertainment-wise. But this makes people creative and
proactive in making their own fun and including everyone they meet. I’ve never
been in a place where it’s so easy to make friends, and I’ve never been as busy
socially as I am now. I participate in more activities here than I ever did in
Melbourne.
I’ve learnt how to be creative with resources. Most remote
schools have excellent facilities technology-wise, but can be lacking in other
areas (such as space and accessibility for excursions). Things you order for
your classes take a long time to arrive (we’ve been waiting 2.5 months for a
portable whiteboard). So you need to be innovative and think outside the square
when it comes to teaching materials - which is actually more fun than you’d
anticipate! :)
I’ve learnt that you need a different kind of patience here,
and a different kind of tolerance. You need patience with the Top End itself –
“Territory time” is an infamous concept, and it can be difficult to adjust to
after living in a society where so much importance is placed on immediacy. You
need tolerance for the community itself. It’s a very different way of life up
here, and I learnt to adjust my norms and expectations very quickly. Most
importantly, of course, you need patience and tolerance with your students.
It’s difficult to come to terms with some of the things those kids have been
through, and sometimes you forget the lives they lead as you’re frustrated by
their tardiness, their apparent apathy, their refusal to participate in certain
things. Learn as much as you can about
their culture. It will help you to acknowledge and be patient, even if you
don’t understand. There are vast social and cultural issues at play that you
won’t have ever heard of and that I still don’t comprehend: skin groups, shame,
family connections, funerals, initiation, respect. All these things impact
heavily on your classroom, and you need to be open to making adjustments - not
in your belief of their capabilities, but in your teaching style and some of
your expectations.
I’ve learnt resilience in getting students on side – they
don’t trust easily here. There is such a high turnover of staff that the kids
don’t believe you’ll stay, and thus don’t believe that you care about them.
Both in and out of school, many students have little stability in their lives,
which impacts both their self-efficacy and their reception of you when you
first walk through that door. You won’t have a class full of adoring students,
regardless of how lovely you are; it takes immense patience, resilience and
hard work to constantly reach out to your students to earn their respect. But
it’s worth it when that kid who has pointedly ignored you and attempted no work
all term suddenly begins to chatter away while presenting you with a fully
completed worksheet. It’s worth it when a girl who is so shy she won’t respond
to her name at roll call throws her arm around your shoulders, tells you your
dimples “don’t suit you”, and organises your hair into a more aesthetically
pleasing style. It’s worth it when you see the “Wow!” moment of comprehension,
and the proud grin that student – five years behind his peers in literacy –
shines your way.
I’ve learnt to deal with a strength of emotions I’ve never
felt before. I wasn’t prepared for the level of disadvantage I found here, and
I’m not sure you can be completely prepared for it. You will see things and
hear things and realise things that tug at your heartstrings and make you want
to scream at the injustice of the world. But you’ll learn to use those
emotions, and turn them into a passion that drives you to do more, and to
remember why you are here.
For me, the opportunities that arise from these challenges,
and the benefits of living in this pocket of Australia, far outweigh the
detriments. You learn strengths you never knew you had. There is such a chance
to make an impact on a wide, unrestricted scale. The NT is ‘behind’ the rest of
Australia in many aspects, and its transient nature means that there is
opportunity to become a source of stability and lasting innovation within the
community and your school. Promotionally, opportunities abound. There is vast
potential for developing and implementing programs, and embracing leadership
positions. You can see first-hand the lifestyles your students lead, and the
issues that they deal with, and there is enormous prospect for someone with
vision, motivation and determination to make a real, tangible difference on an
individual and widespread level.
And then there’s the lifestyle. I’ve been in the Top End for
over three months now, and still it often feels like I’m on a working holiday.
A confronting, challenging working holiday, but nonetheless, everything about
the Territory calls out “vacation”. The days have averaged 30-35 degrees since
we’ve arrived. There are innumerable stunning natural wonders within driving
distance of town, and each weekend brings along a new adventure. One day
spent at a glittering waterfall can feel like a week off work. There is ample opportunity to visit some of
Australia’s least-known gems, best-known landmarks, and to experience the
rugged beauty and culture surrounding you. There is a natural hot springs three
minutes’ walk from my house. And I can’t describe the tranquillity of the
infinite canvas of stars every single night. That’s one of my favourite things
about the Territory – the sky is endless, and every sunset spectacular. Not to
mention we get copious public holidays!
Working in the Top End is not an easy gig. There are issues
up here that are foreign and confrontational. But the challenges are
empowering, and the rewards worth every second of frustration. I am grateful
every day for the opportunity to teach here, and wouldn’t change my decision
for the world. As parting counsel, my suggestion for three things that you
should not come to the Top End without: resilience, patience, and a taste for
adventure.
