Geoffrey McNamara AM

I learned an important lesson from June Petit, a former high school English teacher turned UTS lecturer who was studying for her Masters in Literature (I think) when she was in her sixties. I recall her telling me that her family chided her for undertaking serious studies at her age, rather than retiring, but she added: ‘I’m just at that age when I want to learn!’ She was an inspiration. She taught me that genuine learning is perpetual, not merely preparatory.

She also taught me that my writing was nowhere near as good as I thought it was; she then showed me how it could be. Sadly, I never saw her again.

The desire to correct past mistakes. Specifically, my own high school education, which was little short of appalling. The idea that everyone has to be the same – extroverted, vociferous, and obsessed with organised sport – is absurd, hurtful and wasteful. All students, all people, have their own characteristics, their own potential. They learn and express themselves in their own way, and blossom at different times in their lives. They need to be accepted and allowed to be themselves.

The capacity to adapt to change, and to solve problems. These are the only two skills I can guarantee will be needed for individual and societal survival for the next century or more. A rapidly changing world precludes the creation of experts; on the contrary, it frequently leads to redundancy and loss of long-acquired skills and knowledge. Continual change is fundamentally unsettling for people, particularly as they age. Nonetheless, change is an inevitable reality. Be ready for it.

Above all, to allow quiet students to remain quiet, and thoughtful students time to think. Create an environment where they are not drowned out by those who are socially active with ease and can’t get enough of the sound of their own voice. The quiet ones are often those who have the patience and intellectual capacity to transform the world. 

During ‘class discussions’, some students just don’t want to say anything until they know what they’re talking about, which might be days after the question was posed. As Susan Cain puts it, please help bring an end to constant group work: many fine people simply don’t operate that way. The notion that everyone has to be a ‘team player’ is ill-considered and doesn’t account for the huge variety of people in the world. 

For instance, research shows that open plan offices are not only uncomfortable for many introverted professionals, they are also inefficient and unproductive. This doesn’t mean introverts shouldn’t collaborate widely: they can and should, and a failure to do so would be a mistake of the same magnitude in the opposite direction. But they need permission to be selective with whom they collaborate, and how. 

Importantly, introverts need time to think. If you give them a complex question, some butchers paper and whiteboard markers, they will come up with little of value. I seriously doubt anyone ever does. However, if we give them the time, tools and motivation, and the means to express themselves in their own way, they will likely come through with a meaningful and achievable solution.

If a student is quiet, introverted or shy, allow them to be so. They will learn how to interact with the world in their own time, using techniques we can teach them, but they should not be asked to abandon who they are.

You’re an introverted teacher – get used to it. Don’t try and be like others no matter what they say. You will succeed by being yourself, and by doing so will relate better to almost half the students you will meet.

The day I met Brenda, now my wife of 33 years. That was the beginning.

Watching my kids become the most amazing adults and crediting me with some small role in their lives. Inca, who’s now a medical doctor; Estee, a PhD in plant biology; Cameron, an engineer; Charli, a teacher; and Shamima, a physicist. They all now cast me in their academic shadows, which means I did something good.

Fundamentally, the goal of good teaching is to help kids find and value themselves.

The notion that the future of the world and the skills it will require of our children can be predicted is fundamentally and fatally flawed. It follows that a carefully planned career is fantasy. 

My advice for new graduates is you will not need to seek out the ‘twists and turns’ of life: they are simply unavoidable. Instead, you will need to watch for them and be prepared to adapt, perhaps dramatically so. 

Above all, wherever possible, follow your heart, do what fulfils you, what gives you a sense at the end of the day that you made some small, positive difference in the world.