As she stepped inside Kingswood High School in western Sydney, university student Cathleen Huiskamp was nervous. She was part of a new government initiative that sends early-career educators to high-needs schools in western Sydney to demystify the stigma around public education.
In one hour, Huiskamp’s perspective was transformed. She joined a modern history class in which students were told to take out a piece of paper and silently write down everything they remembered from the previous lesson.
The class erupted into chatter. A student called out: “Miss, I took my vitamins, I ate my breakfast and I drank my water!” The teacher did not miss a beat, “Excellent ... now let’s have a go at putting knowledge onto paper.”
Watching on, Huiskamp had a realisation.
“Misbehaviour isn’t always a bad thing. It’s kids looking for connection ... and the only way they know how is by being a bit naughty or being a bit disruptive,” she said.
For Huiskamp, the program cemented her love for teaching. At one point in her placement, a student asked her what she thought of him and his classmates. She admitted she’d expected them to heckle her and be uninterested in learning, but they had listened closely and asked thoughtful, respectful questions. She told them they were great.
“His response to me was, ‘Oh, really, Miss? We’ve always been told that because we’re western Sydney kids, we’re bad’,” she recalled.
“I was like, ‘You know what? This is where I can have a meaningful career and have an impact on students beyond academics,’” Huiskamp said.
Kingswood High principal Adam Forbes said such initial apprehension is common.
“They expect classes to be a bit rowdy,” he said. “They think they will be thrown into the deep end. They don’t realise there is an entire faculty that is going to support them.
“The important things are getting people through the gates to see the reality. Once they do that, they definitely walk away with a different view.”
In complex schools, a teacher’s role tends far beyond the curriculum, explained maths teacher Natalie Benson. She carries a small notebook with her, filled with observations tracking her students’ injuries, sick days, attitude, equipment and home life.
“It is very diverse here. There are people here who, for a number of reasons, don’t value education – maybe they have other things going on. It’s our job to work with that,” Benson said.
“You have to show you care, we have to adapt our lessons to be worthy of them. You can’t just give them something and expect it to work. Meet them where they are at.”
Over a week, 50 university students attended schools with teacher shortages and complex needs in south-west, north-west and western Sydney. Participant Saajidah Reijerink said the placement helped her to shed preconceptions about teaching in so-called “deficit” areas.
“Kids who don’t receive love at home will come to school to receive it … creating an environment in which kids feel supported and accepted, will then support them to do better academically, and to thrive here,” she said.
At the end of the modern history lesson, the same student shouts out again. “I’ve started eating my vegies, and I have taken my vitamins. I am gonna be here every day now so I can absorb more content. I wasn’t even late today!”
The teacher gives a wry smile and tells the class there will be an extra homework question because of the student’s interruption. The class groans.
Huiskamp sees the disruption as more significant than any curriculum point.
“Having a kid announce in public that they want to go to school, and it’s actually because they feel comfortable in that class, is massive. The growth isn’t in intelligence or academics; it’s in the person,” she said.
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