Opinion
I taught for 40 years. Inspiring kids comes back to one three-letter word
Dianne Kupsch
TeacherI worked in state secondary education for more than 40 years, mostly in underprivileged areas. These were schools without manicured playing fields, swimming pools or the extracurricular offerings provided by elite private schools. What they lacked in facilities, they made up for in heart, teamwork and commitment, and we found ways to help students achieve their dreams.
Many of my students were poor. Some of their home lives were dysfunctional, and it was a struggle just to get to school. Some of their stories would break your heart. Our best successes as teachers are to see students like these become nurses, electricians, teachers, lawyers, accountants, plumbers, mechanics, defence personnel, physios and occasionally a doctor or two. What got these kids to school wasn’t measurable in data or NAPLAN results – it was friendships, kindness, and most importantly, fun. It was a teacher making a connection, finding the “key” to unlocking the love of a subject, recognising a student just wanting to please and be noticed. Teachers who could smile and “check in” to see how a student was doing.
The best outcomes by far were always achieved by the students who, despite poverty, came from homes that valued education. But some homes aren’t quite like that, and this puts a huge burden on the teachers and the school. When you face a class of more than 25 students – many with special needs and learning difficulties – it’s a struggle to just keep them in their seats. Then teachers must face an endless cycle of meetings where there is much talk, and the only real result is yet more work, more emails and more forms to submit. The exhausted teacher must then go home and manage the responsibilities of their own home and family, and prepare the next day’s lessons – what will be my hook to engage and challenge?
The final three years of school are crucial. The school that achieved the best outcomes out of those I taught at had an innovative curriculum and kept meetings to a minimum. “Where to next?” was built into the curriculum, which included work experience. Once the link was established in students’ minds that there was a point to their learning, staying at school made sense and retention rates improved.
Weekly year-level assemblies with guest speakers to discuss issues that affected students gave them time out of the classroom and a sense of belonging. The victims of road trauma and their family members always had a profound impact, as many students were of an age where they were learning to drive. Year-level competitions that incorporated “egg throwing” and “earth ball” football (where students would lie on their backs and kick an enormous inflated ball to score a goal) were just as integral for older students as swimming and athletics days were for younger students.
An annual Red Faces-style show in which the year 11s and 12s would perform in front of the rest of the school was much anticipated. Some of the acts would bring the house down. Staff would also perform – we were never as talented or creative as the students, but it did show we were human.
An annual two-week trip to central Australia for year 11s was an extra cost that many struggled to meet, but was so highly valued that most students contributed with earnings from part-time jobs. Sometimes we took 120 students – three bus loads – a real achievement for an underprivileged school.
There was also the debutante ball – anachronistic though it may be – which gave students a chance to learn how to present themselves to an audience. This is not a wasted skill. It brought families together, gave students a sense of pride in themselves, and it was also fun.
Not every student participated in everything, but there was enough going on all the time to involve every student in something. Learning took place because school was fun. It became fun for all of us – and fun breeds collegiality, teamwork and shared goals. More than what happens in the classroom, these are the memories that stay with kids. Those who make policy decisions need to remember this.
One of my jobs was to teach kids the power of language. Under the old VCE system, there was an assessment for a “writing folio” in different styles and students would regularly confront me, complaining they had nothing to write about. Some of my most memorable experiences came when those same students would hand in a piece of writing on something they had realised they were passionate about – be it a footy match, a person who inspired them, or a trip somewhere. So many beautiful stories; so many students bursting with pride about something they didn’t think they could do. That’s when the magic happens. That magic is addictive for a teacher. Such a shame this has gone for so many.
Too much has been lost. Teachers feel overwhelmed and like someone is looking over their shoulder all the time. They are constantly racing – to class or yard duty, the next meeting, phone call or report to complete. They have no control over their day. Even in the classroom, the lesson plan has often been decreed for each day. This rubric must be completed. Wonderful lessons still happen nevertheless because we are dealing with 25 other people and sometimes spontaneity takes us to special places if we are open to it.
The one piece of data decision-makers need to take notice of is the number of unhappy teachers deserting the profession, and worse still, the number of unhappy teachers choosing to stay. These precious years for young people must not be devalued or diminished by sad, worn-out and disillusioned teachers. Unhappy teachers translate to unhappy schools, unhappy kids and unhappy parents. When the love of teaching disappears, so does the love of learning.
The answers don’t lie in being conversant with the latest theory – it’s not in knocking walls down between classrooms or in building walls back up. Set aside money and days for kids and teachers to just have fun. This matters more than anything.
Teaching is a wonderful profession. Stop drowning teachers in paperwork – let them be human. Give them support when they need it. Let them inspire, and let them teach.
Dianne Kupsch was a secondary school teacher in careers/pathways and senior English at state high schools in Victoria for more than 40 years.
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