Adminfo - and Vice Principals

hilaration again, the same dedicated
and inspired colleagues, and the fresh
and creative energy brought into our
lives daily by our students. Teaching,
learning and leading in this most challenging
and gratifying world of school
leadership is something I feel fortunate
and privileged to have enjoyed,
and something I would not exchange
for any number of free evenings or
weekends.
As with all of us who have made
education a big part of our life’s work,
my journey to this point has been
unique. It is usually apparent to anyone
I speak to that I was not born in
Canada. Although I am now a proud
Canadian, I was and still am, a New
Zealander, and in fact until I was 27
years old, I had never been anywhere
else. New Zealanders are well-known
for their wanderlust, but I was also of
the generation that believed you went
to school and stayed there until you
were properly qualified to do something
that would sustain you pretty
much forever. That is true, even
though, while I was at University in
the 1960s I was proclaiming loudly,
along with everyone else, that I was
not there for a meal ticket.
My own education was at a private
school for girls — a convent. All the
images that are passing through your
head right now are probably very
close to the truth of my teenage reality.
Our teachers were all cloistered
sisters, and in many ways my experience
was narrow, protected and
socially unbalanced. Yet in that environment
I learned something valuable
from my teachers. They were all
well-educated, independent, self-reliant
and competent women, in charge
of their world. With a great sense of
social justice, they did not allow us to
feel any sense of privilege, and as role
models their impact has been marked
and long lasting.
I think I always knew that I would
February 08 • Adminfo • 15
be a teacher. My mother and many
members of her family were teachers.
My mother was a bit of an icon,
and well into adulthood I would be
regaled by strangers in the street with
stories of her skill as a teacher loved
by all. She had a passion for poetry
and everyone who passed through her
classroom emerged with a familiarity
and a love for many well-known
works.
I completed my teacher education
at Christchurch Teachers’ College, a
one-year course for University graduates.
In return for a commitment to
teach at least one year we were paid
$2900! The institution was ivy clad
stone, dark and austere. The staff
were a charming mix of the erudite
and the bizarre, and I cannot say
that I learned much that was helpful.
I did, however, spend some useful
time in schools. There were three
different kinds of secondary schools
in New Zealand at the time and there
was a firmly adhered to policy which
required students to spend time in
one of each. My first practicum was
at Nelson College for Girls and again
anything you are thinking right now
is probably right. Decorum was paramount
and the teachers wore academic
gowns, but the students were
as spunky and spirited as any you
might imagine. Next I went to Temuka
High School, a country school in
the South Island populated by farm
kids. While I was there Neil Armstrong
walked on the moon and we
gathered in an open space outside in
the middle of winter to listen on the
radio. Finally I went to Naenae College,
a secondary school of 1200 in a
blue collar suburb with a high Polynesian
population. It was here that I
got my first job. I was one of three
first-year teachers, and we were treated
well. We had an 80% assignment,
although we were employed full time,
and we were given no really challenging
classes, although the school had
more than a few of those. We met
regularly with the principal to learn
and debrief our experiences.
I had been there a year when a
young Canadian teacher who had
come from Sparwood in British Columbia,
joined the staff. We married
and eventually returned to BC, and
after a short stint in Courtenay, to the
Stikine.
The transition was not seamless.
In New Zealand at the time, schools
were like, but not quite as rigid as,
English schools. The students wore
uniforms, they rose to their feet when
a teacher entered the room and their
futures were pretty much determined
by the program they chose or were
directed towards at 13 years of age.
Success was very much dependent
on examination results, and many
students left school at 15 to enter a
wide open labour market.
In Canada I found myself in a very
experimental, if not a very rigorous
milieu. I encountered a version of
team teaching, not much structure or
regard for the curriculum and fluid
classrooms. I was puzzled by the fact
that it seemed unclear just who was in
my class or how long they would be
staying. These students were exposed
to a much more liberal approach to
learning — they had choices, and
examinations were virtually unknown.
Although their experiences
were different, the students were
like teenagers everywhere — curious,
open and anxious to be taken
seriously. Of course my experiences
were different too. To this day I can
see the mischievous and impertinent
young man sitting in the front row of
my math 9 class, testing me at every
juncture, sporting an electric pink T-
shirt emblazoned with “Archie Bunker
for King.” His jaw dropped the
day I said to him, “You made a mistake
Well use your rubber!” He took