VC’S CORNER
campusreview.com.au
Success
means
access
The lives of non-traditional
students underscore the
societal benefits, and
necessity, of open pathways
to higher education.
By Annabelle Duncan
W
ho succeeds in higher
education? Not me, aged 20.
That year, my second at Otago
University, was at once memorable and
forgettable, because I failed every unit for
which I sat.
I came through because my biology
professor, a woman with three children in
a time when such multitasking was rare,
recognised something in me that I didn’t
recognise in myself. She offered me a job
in her laboratory, and became a mentor
and a lifelong friend. Margaret never solved
problems for me, but she gave me the
means to resolve my own.
Under her, I completed my honours and
then my master’s degree at Otago, and
set out on the path that took me to where
I am today.
Now, as one of the gatekeepers of
our higher-education system, I find that
question – Who succeeds? – confronting
me constantly. There is no single answer,
because there is no single student.
Each of us is a product of circumstances
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over which we have no control: the place
and time of our birth; our parents; our sex,
temperament and type of intelligence;
the people we meet and the people who
champion us, should we be fortunate
enough to find a champion.
Can we package individuals shaped by
all these variables into a single metric that
predicts their fitness for higher education?
We have tried, and produced the ATAR.
This is a useful device for assessing
certain types of bright students who are
likely to flourish in higher education, but the
ATAR is inherently discriminatory.
If we assume that the ATAR is an accurate
guide to fitness for higher education, we
must assume that rural and regional areas are
deficient in the necessary intelligence, and
that the young brains of the nation reside in
wealthy, inner-metropolitan suburbs.
If you live in the more populous areas
of regional Australia, the likelihood of
attaining a higher education is about half
that of someone living in a major city. If
you live in a less populated regional area,
the odds drop to 45 per cent; and if you
are Aboriginal, the chances you will earn a
bachelor’s degree are a scant 4 per cent.
ATARs roughly reflect these
demographics, but they obscure important
information. The ranking may provide
a rough forecast of the future for some
individuals, but for others equally bright,
they may describe only the limited
education opportunities of the past, or
paths not taken.
Consider two high-school students of
similar intellectual capacity, each capable
of taking a master’s degree in a sciencerelated discipline. One lives in a big city, the
other in a regional area.
The city student is likely to attend a
school with favourable student-staff ratios,
specialist teachers and good equipment.
This student’s parents are statistically
more likely to have the money for
excursions, to be tertiary-educated,
and willing to make an extra outlay
for coaching.
For the regional student, coaching is