“Thank you for being a good teacher. You’ve been like, say I’m a candle without fire on the top and you put the fire on the top because I say that if a candle doesn’t have fire then it can’t be bright."...
Written by a Sri Lankan student to Marguerite Gloster, Teacher (Canberra)
Gothic buildings were in short supply in suburban Moorooka in 1956, so the classical splendour of Brisbane Grammar School came as a cultural shock to this new boy...
Peter Thompson, London
I have often said to my kids “…life’s not a rehearsal. You get one canter around the paddock and that’s it!” So grab it with both hands.
My canter round the paddock was very much shaped by a teacher at North Sydney Boys’ High School in the 1950s. By name Mr R.B. Forster B.A. A modest man, a good teacher and an even better career counsellor. I have a photo of him sitting staunchly in his suit looking suitably stern among the masters (and two mistresses, including Sir John Kerr’s later wife) at the time...
Max Bourke, AM, Canberra
I spent my secondary school years at an Anglican boarding school in East Gippsland. I hated the boarding house, which was run on harshly authoritarian lines, but I was fortunate to receive and very good academic education.
Three teachers inspired me in different ways...
The Hon. Lindsay Tanner, MP, Minister for Finance and Deregulation
Though just thirteen I've long experience of bullying, boring or barking mad teachers at the blackboards of a succession of classrooms in various Victorian state schools, from inner-suburban blackboard jungles to the semi-rural outer suburban. My final skirmish with state education ( I'll leave school in just two years before completing 'secondary' thus entirely avoiding tertiary) is at Eltham High where the students are an ecumenical mixture of kids from farms, 'artists colonies', the first incarnation of 'tree changers' and the sub-proletariat who've bought very cheap land.
My favourite teacher? Mr.McDonald, a.k.a. Mr.Mac, somewhat scorned by his superiors at the school- and by the visiting 'inspectors' . His problem - an amiable inability to control a `class' of pubescent monsters. Bemused and diffident, this sweet man cannot cope and doesn't bother trying. Yet he has a charm, gentleness and decency that I like - a lot. Mr.Mac is kind and funny and somehow manages to be fond of us. Given our exploitation of his vulnerabilities this is remarkable. Consequently I feel protective, almost paternal about my former teacher - and in the years ahead will often write about him in nostalgic columns. Decades later - almost fifty years on - I return to the school to give a speech ...and there he is in the audience, nudging 90 and totally blind. And having saluted him from the lectern I walk into the audience to embarrass him with a grateful hug. The old darling died soon afterwards but not, I hope, as a direct result...... Goodbye Mr.Chips? For me it's goodbye Mr.Mac...
Phillip Adams, Broadcaster
When I was in primary school I was blessed to have a handful of amazing teachers. One of the most influential was my music teacher called Wendy Horne. This woman was the most enthusiastic, genuine, hardworking and amazing teacher I’ve had the pleasure to have! She is the inspiration i needed (among a few others) to go to university and become a teacher myself (2009 graduate)...
Tamyn-Leigh Holtom, Teacher
My Big Brother first told me about Barlow. Apparently there was an exchange that went something like:
Barlow: What do you think of this poem?
My Bro: (Farts noisily)
Barlow: I like a man who gives a straight answer.
I guess Steve Barlow taught us the value of deadpan, a default position I often fall back to in my own teaching practice today. I guess he spotted my own future career well before I did.
If that's the case, my most significant lesson in life involved Barlow, my loser best mate, my loser best mate's metal ruler, and that perennial of the high school classroom, the overhead projector.
It was a slow, hot, boring afternoon. Barlow was slumped against his desk, droning on...playing for time, I guess. I never have lessons like that.
Bored to tears, I watched my loser best mate idly playing with his metal ruler: bending it, tapping it on the desk, colouring it with a highlighter, and ultimately inserting it into the ventilation grille of the overhead projector.
It isn't so much the explosion or the ensuing fireball that I recall so vividly- nor the pool of melted innards revealed when the projector was later wrenched open. My lasting impression was the way Barlow's deadpan cut the stunned silence.
"You shouldn't have done that, mate. I was gonna use that projector."...
Cal Clugston, Teacher
John was my Medieval History teacher for Years 11 and 12 in 1995 and 1996 at Dickson College in Canberra. His amazing dedication to the subject matter and unstoppable passion were contagious. He invented a 'game' whereby groups in the class were given medieval sub-groups of various civilisations. Based on actual sources, research and a roll of the dice, each group conquered or were conquered by the others. All while learning the strengths and weakness of the groups and the geography of Medieval Europe. We played that game for a week and the way we all got involved was breathtaking. No one wanted to stop. I'm a high school history teacher now and use this memory for my own inspiration when coming up with assessment and lesson ideas...
Luke Williams, Teacher
Mr York taught me when I was in 6th class at Ainslie Primary School, Canberra in 1946. I used to stammer quite a bit, particularly when I was reading, but he was always so patient and said to me once 'Janet, just breathe as if you are singing. Have you ever heard anyone stammer when they sing?' He was also the choir master and gave me a love of music and singing all types of songs: folk songs, sea shanties and others. He was strict, but he was a wonderful teacher. When I was in my 40's I sought him out and told him that he was the best teacher I'd ever had. He asked me who was in my class and after mentioning a couple of names he knew exactly who I was. He wanted to know if I remembered any of the songs from the choir, which I did and he asked could I still sing Po Kare Kare Ana, which I could and we sang it together in his lounge room in Reid. I asked why he had taught us so many sea shanties in the class room and he said that his father had been a sea captain.
Several years later I went to a reunion of early students at Ainslie School and Mr York was there and we all stood as if in a choir, with our hands held neatly in front and sang Po Kare Kare Ana in all parts. Blokes too. He was delighted. Mr York has since died and many ex students paid their last respects at his funeral. He was a very loved teacher by many students...
Janet Newman
I was in year 5 when I had Mr Joyce and 9/11 had just happened. I was keen to know what it all meant for our world and how it would affect us here in Australia. Mr Joyce encouraged me to begin reading newspapers, have discussions with my parents and watch the news. I learnt a lot during that period of time thanks to Mr Joyce. From that day on I read the newspaper every day and continued discussions with my parents. Mr Joyce opened up a whole new world to me and I thank him for it...
Jacinta Durr
