It does matter, actually
Martin Doyle
I don’t mean to be picky, but...
Last Friday night, as I was languidly listening to some late-night RNZ news, something stuck out. They’d been going on about some brand-new, “technologically advanced” school that had just been founded in Queenstown. No dirt floors for these kids: the government has given them $17mil to help get started. And what a jolly name – Remarkables Primary School.
And the staff there had got creative: instead of being “teachers”, they would now be called “expedition leaders”; and the “classrooms” will now be called “caves”. The radio then got a comment from the Minister of Education, Anne Tolley, who gave a reasonably positive sound-bite. But it was a tiny, little nothing phrase of hers that left nip-marks in my ear. Not a major wound, but still worth dabbing some ointment on. It came when the term “expedition leaders” got raised. Tolley quipped: “It doesn’t matter what we call them, they’re still teachers.”
In actual fact, it does matter. I’m not saying every school in New Zealand should start employing “expedition leaders”, but the mere fact these people are using an original term that means something to them is like a fresh, green shoot on winter branches.
They are focusing on purpose. A century ago, we had “schoolmasters” and the odd “schoolmistress”. These were severe, bully types of people who knew everything, wrote on blackboards with squeaking chalk, and beat the backsides of petty criminals who dared to speak in class. Ever since those heinous times have gone, education and learning have come ahead in leaps and bounds.
I agree that a teacher has to be “in charge” of a class, but their overall role really does need to be redescribed by each new generation. Trying fresh labels is a sign of responding to the times. Even our ancestors did that. They devised labels that bristled with meaning.
The 900-year-old Oxford University (which is so into words it puts out the world’s best dictionary) has a humble motto: “Dominus illuminatio mea” (The Lord is my light). A university in the Middle Ages was often labelled an “alma mater” i.e. a “nourishing mother” who would (one pictures) suckle her intellectually hungry, spluttering bambinos. I notice Onslow College goes for the aspirational “Ka anga atu aku kanohi ki nga maunga” (I will turn my eyes to the mountains). What I like most about that one is the concept of an individual owning their life, setting goals.
My favourite, partly because of its outrageous self-confidence, its scherzando anachronising, and pride in a changing world, is the one belonging to the Sapienza University in Rome: “Il futuro è passato qui” (the future went through this place).
But, agh, what the hell... It’s all just words. The only problem is when we stop thinking about the words we use, and the need to update them. So, I take my hat off to Remarkables School and all their expedition leaders. They’re definitely on the right track.
Last Friday night, as I was languidly listening to some late-night RNZ news, something stuck out. They’d been going on about some brand-new, “technologically advanced” school that had just been founded in Queenstown. No dirt floors for these kids: the government has given them $17mil to help get started. And what a jolly name – Remarkables Primary School.
And the staff there had got creative: instead of being “teachers”, they would now be called “expedition leaders”; and the “classrooms” will now be called “caves”. The radio then got a comment from the Minister of Education, Anne Tolley, who gave a reasonably positive sound-bite. But it was a tiny, little nothing phrase of hers that left nip-marks in my ear. Not a major wound, but still worth dabbing some ointment on. It came when the term “expedition leaders” got raised. Tolley quipped: “It doesn’t matter what we call them, they’re still teachers.”
In actual fact, it does matter. I’m not saying every school in New Zealand should start employing “expedition leaders”, but the mere fact these people are using an original term that means something to them is like a fresh, green shoot on winter branches.
They are focusing on purpose. A century ago, we had “schoolmasters” and the odd “schoolmistress”. These were severe, bully types of people who knew everything, wrote on blackboards with squeaking chalk, and beat the backsides of petty criminals who dared to speak in class. Ever since those heinous times have gone, education and learning have come ahead in leaps and bounds.
I agree that a teacher has to be “in charge” of a class, but their overall role really does need to be redescribed by each new generation. Trying fresh labels is a sign of responding to the times. Even our ancestors did that. They devised labels that bristled with meaning.
The 900-year-old Oxford University (which is so into words it puts out the world’s best dictionary) has a humble motto: “Dominus illuminatio mea” (The Lord is my light). A university in the Middle Ages was often labelled an “alma mater” i.e. a “nourishing mother” who would (one pictures) suckle her intellectually hungry, spluttering bambinos. I notice Onslow College goes for the aspirational “Ka anga atu aku kanohi ki nga maunga” (I will turn my eyes to the mountains). What I like most about that one is the concept of an individual owning their life, setting goals.
My favourite, partly because of its outrageous self-confidence, its scherzando anachronising, and pride in a changing world, is the one belonging to the Sapienza University in Rome: “Il futuro è passato qui” (the future went through this place).
But, agh, what the hell... It’s all just words. The only problem is when we stop thinking about the words we use, and the need to update them. So, I take my hat off to Remarkables School and all their expedition leaders. They’re definitely on the right track.
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