We are the stories we are told and tell.
In telling my story to others, I say that I have studied
at Monash, graduated from Monash, came back to
teach at Monash, met my wife at Monash, and even
emigrated to teach the Monash College diploma
programme overseas. I don’t, therefore, see my young
charges merely as students; instead, they are my
(super) juniors. I’ve been there, done that, and wore
the black Monash t-shirt with pride. I am not alone in
this, of course, but there are few better placed than I in
shepherding through the next generation, leaders and
loafers all.
This includes those assignments I have publicly torn to
pieces (which happened only that one time, but that’s
once too many if the stopping of myths and legends is
somewhere on your to-do list). My intention was clear:
to hammer home how they needed to buck things
up. Why? Because this is a road I have walked down,
brother, and believe you me when I say that if you don’t
get your in-text citations right, Authorship and Writing
will quickly turn into a boulevard of broken dreams.
91
*****
◀ Running a Film-making
for Dungus Workshop
in SASS (2016).
That’s why decisions to fail students are taken with a
heavy heart.
I’d like to think I have an impact. I want to believe that
the message gets through, that even those who do fail
would understand the meaning behind the mark. Doing
so is never done lightly; behind every N is a story I do
not know. In many ways, I am not supposed to know
this, but it lingers all the same. After all, a broken heart
is not easily mended. A critical conundrum is difficult to
unthink. A lack of light suffocates in the darkness.
How to suture a family torn asunder?
I was once in that vacuum, days and weeks spent in
a haze. Eventually I came clean to my lecturers. Yeoh
Seng Guan, Andrew Ng and Sharon Bong (among
others) listened with open ears, minds and hearts. Was
it the done thing? What’s certain is that it was done,
and they all gave me the emotional support I thought I
may need, and the time and space I knew I did. It goes
without saying that even now, as a sessional staff of
the faculty, I am incredibly proud to call the holy trinity
above not just mentors and colleagues, but friends.
Yes, perhaps professional crastinators
(“procrastinators”) should stand up and take a bow
here. Maybe I am waxing lyrical, wool keeping my eyes
wide shut as my heart strings are plucked at more than
a Lindsey Sterling violin at a Hans Zimmer concert.
Could it be that I should be more critical, more cynical,
more in the execution of my duties?
Yet therein lies the truth. The words of Patricia Goon
haunt me still: “Without up, there is no down. Without
left, there is no right. Without difference, there is no
meaning.”
▲ Learning the ropes
during the ISO Bangkok
study trip (2005).