STEPS - Library - Central Queensland University

Part Four: Student transformations
Nothing is impossible
Chris Daly
The day I made my maths teacher walk out the room crying, I knew I had
gone too far. However, I hated the way she taught and could not cope any
longer. Besides, there was always heaps of work to do on the farm, and,
being a cocky teenager, I knew what was best for me. So, after being given
yet another 'six of the best', I told the principal that he did not have to worry
about me returning to school. I mean, why bother. I only used to go to
school two or three days a week anyway. But I wasn't always bad. I used to
make my classmates laugh too. I used to tie the fan blades to the window
sill or tie my maths teacher’s chair to the table, or once, I even put a rubber
snake in her top drawer. Those days were really funny — or so I thought.
So after working on the farm, then getting a job in the Post Office, at the
ripe old age of 39 I decided on a career change. But where was I going to
school? It was here that I realised, 'Struth! I haven't got any formal
education to get me into university.’ I had worked my way up from being a
postman to managing the Biloela Post Office, but had not gained any
tertiary degree throughout my life. By a stroke of luck, my younger sister,
who is a teacher in Moranbah, rang me one night to have a chat. It was
during this chat that she mentioned the STEPS program run through CQU.
But I lived in Biloela. So was I to move to Rockhampton to do this
program? She offered to assist me so I think that is what persuaded me to
ring up and find out about it. I rang the Gladstone campus and spoke to
Lynne Campbell, who advised me that an information night was to be held
that night in Gladstone. I umm’d and ahh’d about it, jumped in the ute and
took off to Gladstone for the evening. On the way over, I was
contemplating what would be talked about. What information would I have
to tell them? Would they know about me crashing into the hearse while
delivering mail in Mount Isa? About losing the mail when I skidded into the
lake, on the postie bike in Townsville? Or worse still, when I upset my
maths teacher, Mrs O'Connor? All of these 'incidences' were going through
my mind on the trip over.
When I got there, things weren't so bad. There was a bit of tucker on the
table, a cup of tea for everyone and a questionnaire for everyone to fill out.
I hoped there wasn't a section to explain why I had not completed school. If
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