Sunday 29 April 2012

Calling new Top End teachers...

I was asked to write an account of challenges to be aware of for new teachers considering coming to this region to teach, so I decided to take the opportunity to update this blog with a little information about the trials and rewards of living and teaching in a remote location. What follows is the letter to be distributed to some prospective new Top End teachers:


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. 





Friday 27 April 2012

Good point - why am I a teacher?

I have been struggling to begin this blog for a while now. Having been inundated with requests for a blog, but unable to find the time amongst assignments, the busy social calendar of a tiny outback town, and the general craziness of teaching, I have been ashamedly lax in commencing regular updates. Or any updates, as yet. My hope is that this blog will become something of an outlet to communicate the intensity, hilarity, frustration, and rewards that are the rollercoaster ride of teaching.

As well as being limited by time, I must admit that I have been at a loss as to how to begin. I'm a whole term into teaching. I'm "settled" into the community - or at least somewhat settled. I don't think I'll ever be entirely settled anywhere, and I have to say I like it that way. While there are brand new experiences every day, none seemed poignant enough to start from.

But the perfect opening presented itself to me today. I stood at the front of the room as my class chattered happily away, oblivious to my attempts for their attention. After a few doses of the silent llama and some playful admonishments, I finally got them settled down and (for the most part) listening. And then one boy, in the front row, the most talkative of the bunch, asked me, "Miss, why the hell are you a teacher?"

To which I replied, startled, "What??"

"Well," he answered, "You're a zoologist; you did Masters; you lived in Melbourne; you were set up, man! Why would you come to a shit-house town like this and become just a teacher?"

I stared at him, speechless, for a moment (only slightly due to the surprise that he'd taken all that information about me in). Then I got my voice back - but with it came my passion, and my indignation.

"Because I think teaching is the most important job in the world."

Blank stares. They're in for it now. For possibly the first time since I started teaching, I had the undivided attention of every student in that class as I gave them an onslaught:

"Guys," I began, "Education is the most important thing that you can acquire in your entire life. It's the gateway to everything the world has to offer. With a good education, you can become the doctors and vets and engineers that I know some of you aspire to. With a good education, you can choose any path in life you want, and then you can change your mind halfway down that path and take the left-hand fork, or switch direction at the crossroads, or even turn around and come back the way you came. With a good education, you can have the power to think big, dream large, and shoot for the stars. But without an education, these visions fade. Because education is not about sitting quietly and copying notes off the board. It's not about knowing the first fifty elements of the periodic table. It's not about getting a pass grade on your report. A good education is none of these things. Education is a means to a whole wide world of ends.

It involves developing a diverse skill set that you can draw upon in any situation, and prepares you to take your place in society as an informed, reasonable and respectable individual. A good education is learning to see the world in different lights, to remove the blinkers and rose-coloured glasses, to envision a life away from your own. It's about curiosity, inspiration, discovery, of both yourself and the world around you. It's about learning that the world is not just the thing that we live on, but is an ever-changing, elusive, transient system of relationships and societies and interactions, all of which affect us in ways that we can't even imagine. A good education is not about following orders obediently, but about thinking outside the square; considering each and every action that takes place; analysing every viewpoint available before making your decision, because how else will you know it's truly your decision and not one that has been imprinted upon you? A good education is about broadening your mind - which doesn't mean simply remembering different things from textbooks, but means developing and growing and being exposed to different situations and perspectives and ideals, and embracing them. It's about learning to question, and criticise, and appreciate the world. It's about asking, "why?" and genuinely wanting an answer.

Ultimately, a good education is about discovering who you are and what you are capable of. I won't say it's about finding your place in the world, because that will constantly change. But it's about developing yourself to be the best person you can think of being, and to provide you with the opportunity to do anything, go anywhere, and be anyone you please. It's about realising who you are, and who you can be.

As a teacher, I am privileged in helping young, talented people achieve this aim. I get to influence lives, every single day. It's my job to provide you with those skills, and to motivate you to aspire and dream of a world outside school. It's my intention, not to convince you, but to show you just how capable you are, how amazing you can be, if you are dedicated to yourself. I can show you love, pain, sorrow, hope, strength, laughter, anger, justice, peace, inequity, passion from around the world. I can hand you your potential on a golden platter if I can teach you to believe in yourself as much as I believe in each and every one of you. A single person has the power to change the world, no matter how small, no matter where you come from.

So I don't want to hear your excuses about how living in this town means you can't be smart, or you can't learn, or you can't to go to university. Bullshit. You have no less potential than anybody else in Australia - in the world. If you have the dedication, the motivation, and the willpower to apply yourself and push yourself to the limits, then you have all the tools you need. Location doesn't matter. Ethnicity doesn't matter. Every single person is born with the same potential, the same rights, and the same chance to learn.

I see the evidence of this every single day, so don't tell me it isn't so. I get to see students' laughter as they develop their social skills and work like clockwork in teams. I see misconceptions turn into startled understanding as minds are deepened. I see kids trying so hard there's sweat on their forehead, and I've seen students turn from apathetic and self-doubting into perfect examples of self-belief and dedication. I've seen the shyest kid in the class fly as they stand up for themselves. I've seen students deal with more crap than I can comprehend, and still they come to school with a smile and a kind word; and I've seen better displays of work ethic than I'd have believed possible. I've seen things that are touching, disturbing, saddening, and utterly awe-inspiring. I've seen the "wow!" moment of comprehension. Every single day, my students teach me far more than I can teach them. Because that's truly what education is: it's a constantly evolving, ongoing process that we need to embrace and continue throughout our entire lives. It's my job to try to provide the means for education to thrive in young people, to help them see how brilliantly they can shine. What an immense responsibility.

So why did I become 'just' a teacher, Year 10s? I challenge you to find a job that has a better cause, challenges or rewards than this one."