I don’t listen to-, or watch, the news very much.
Just now I sat down to have lunch and turned on the radio.
Topic: Teachers and their salaries. Teachers not being paid enough and the profession not attracting enough of the best talents.
Gosh! Where have I heard that before?
I’m doing some tidying up.
And picked up a scrap book.
(_I’ve been searching for proof that Roland and I might have been in a high school play together. I was the butler in one ( I had no English yet, in 1957) and a Chinese mother in another. After we were transferred to Maroubra Bay, I was the Hungarian linguist, Nepommuck, in Pygmalion.
Yes. My level of command of English was always a factor in the parts I was given.
Those who will teach. By now my cohort and I have done our bit. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I’m very sure that not all parents were happy with my way of doing things but I did my best. I mainly had fun. Underneath there was always the unspoken (almost) pressure that my parents (supposedly) migrated to give me a better future (than in the Netherlands) and, being a teacher used to have some status, then.
My father’s uncle (Albert Mul) was a teacher and the good crockery was always used for his visits when me father was young and the formal sitting room was always used (furthest away from the smell of stale alcohol from the public bar, on the ground floor).
But I digress. Wanted to launch into one of my anecdotes. I did graduate from Wollongong Teachers College. I got in because, luckily, the brighter students who had applied for both a teachers college scholarship and a place at university, often did not take up the offer of the scholarship, (which came first) when a place at university (later) became available instead.
I graduated with a condition attached. I had not passed Biology. (I like to blame my lack of English, in first and second year of high school, for not understanding what the science teachers were talking about and thus never getting on top of it but, I know that I’m more right-brain oriented than left. Instinctive, visual. Not logical or scientific.)
I was allowed to drive my father’s v.w., and Yvonne came down to Wollongong with me, for the graduation ball.
She’d been my first date, at the high school dance, in 1959. She came to this ball and a few years later to the Teachers Federation Ball in the old Trocadero.
Call me the boy next-door or like a brother .
At 1 a.m., after Auld Lang Syne, we could leave.
The city of Wollongong lies between the ocean and a strip of high hills, cliff faces, mountains, if you like.
As always, there was a thick fog on top of the Bulli Pass and it got worse and worse. The headlights showed me about two metres of space ahead. We moved along that highway at snails’ pace.
Got her home safely to her mother, at about 3 a.m. and was asked why we had not stayed in Wollongong and booked into an hotel!?!
That was such a shock to me that it’s like a few other moments, frozen in time.
The rest of the world, in those early sixties might have been into sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll but…….. I wasn’t into rock ‘n roll, or drugs or didn’t know that it might have been all right to book into an hotel for the night, with this lady’s daughter. :)
Elsewhere on RedBubble, in the forums, there is a topic running: In my day we didn’t……."
I certainly hope that it never does really happen that teachers, here in NSW or Australia will be paid different amounts, according to their perceived results or abilities.
There is so much team-work involved, especially teaching the younger children. Can you imagine what would happen if you’d had the bad luck to have students with less potential than your colleague and your colleague was paid much more, for doing exactly what you do, too? Why would you bother? Why would you do things for them?
Stay out of it, shock jocks and politicians! It will be good when the elections are gone again!
By the way the young lady who came to the graduation ball (and my first high school dance, and my first Teachers Federation Ball, …..and I were great at doing cha-chas!!! :)
(Photos, above, from my album: Left: 1. Taken in the steam train of one of the other students, who also boarded, during the week, in Wollongong. A group of us travelled down together, every Monday morning and back, every Friday after lectures. In the middle and right, pictures taken in the brand-new, then, lecture blocks: Eddy, at the piano, during music elective and on the right, proof that not all lectures were exciting.)
I just came across a Redbubble group, called: Creative Inspirations.
Hopefully, explaining my road taken in the world fits in.
I believe that the seeds, inspiring me to want to be a teacher, were planted by previous generations. There were a number of teachers, in the family tree.
My hero / role model was my primary school teacher, in Gouda, the Netherlands. As year 6, after being in his class, for more than three years, came to a close, we migrated.
It took a bit of doing to copy all that he did, but here, in New South Wales, I did, and, in December, 1971, I went and told him so. ( Had children sing to my accordion.
He’d given me my first lessons. Taught them art. Made them dance. Put on musicals. Made them aware of other languages. The list is too long.)
I enjoyed it. So disappointing to hear, so regularly, teaching being discussed in lead-ups to elections by ‘experts’ who are not teachers (but shock jocks, or politicians).
I wrote all this some time ago and now the news is that a survey has shown that many teachers, new to the profession, plan not to stay in it for too long.
I believe many have a great influence on the creative process !! …and hopefully, many inspire.