Wednesday, 26th January 2022, was a significant day for me. It was my last day as principal of Amesbury School. Eleven years, less one school term, ago, I was delivered to the almost bare paddock in Churton Park and was handed over by the students and staff of Manunui School, Taumarunui, into the hands of the Amesbury School Establishment Board of Trustees. I was to be principal, but there was no school in sight, just a piece of swampy land made flat by fill from the housing developments in the surrounding hills and some evidence that something big was going to happen soon. We had nine months to build a school and get it ready for students.

That afternoon, on the side of the road, along with the busload of students from Manunui School, I was called forward with a karanga by Bishop Muru Walters. I wore the beautiful purple kakahu (feathered cloak) that I had been presented with by the school just a day or two before at my farewell to honour the many years I had spent at Manunui School, first as a teacher, and then as principal. There were speeches (whaikorero) and then I was handed over by two students to Rory O’Connor, Establishment Board Chair. What a day!

Being appointed to be principal of the new school to be built in Churton Park, Wellington and opened in 2012 has certainly been the biggest surprise of my career. Even today I pinch myself and wonder what the Establishment Board could possibly have seen in me that prompted them to put such a taonga (gift) into my unsteady hands. This was to be the first new school to be built in Wellington in nearly 30 years and I was to be its foundation principal! I am so grateful that whatever they saw, they saw it, because being foundation principal of Amesbury school has been a huge privilege.

But Wednesday marked more than just the end of my time as principal of Amesbury School, it also marked the end of 40 years in schools. Having completed five years of university, in 1982 I began my secondary teacher training in the small outpost in Lower Hutt where a group of married trainees (12 -15) could train rather than having to travel to Auckland or Christchurch. We spent most of our time in schools and one day a week on campus. From my first day of practicum at Wellington East Girls College, I realised that I loved teaching and teaching has loved me back ever since. It wasn’t a job; it was a calling and my associate teacher quickly left me to it.    

Being principal of Amesbury School was special – a once in a life-time opportunity - and I am hugely grateful to have been entrusted with the mandate to set up a school from scratch, build the foundations of a new type of curriculum, innovate and push the boundaries of what education could look like in the 21st century. But as I think about 40 years in education including over 21 years in principalship, it is the amazing teachers I have encountered and their commitment to making things better for kids, their willingness to take risks and go on a pioneer journey that I remember. I remember the huge courage of the staff at Manunui School in the very early 2000s as we encountered the ideas of culturally responsive teaching and together read Bishop and Glyn’s book, “Culture Counts” (1995) and realised that the New Zealand history we had known wasn’t the whole truth and amidst tears and some shame we faced up to our own prejudices and racist views.

I remember the teachers at Amesbury School who with such grace and courage faced a barrage of the kind of criticism and misinformation that comes when you try something new. We were the new kids on the block with the shiny new toys and we paid for it. But they held the faith because they knew that there had to be a way of doing education that acknowledged the whole child and each child’s uniqueness – we just had to find it…we are still finding it. But mostly, I remember all the teachers I worked with over the years whose professional and personal lives are characterised by the kind of deep courage that allows you to face up to the fact that there is always more to know and more to be, that being human means embracing our imperfections, shortcomings, imperfect knowledge and who were willing to go on that heroes’ journey of continual growth and development. Let’s raise our glasses to those teachers. Thank you for putting up with my often-stumbling attempts - my imperfect coaching and professional learning sessions that didn’t always hit the mark – and for acknowledging with grace that I also was on that same journey of growth and development and finding my way, just as you were.

And then I remember the students….

So many amazing students come to mind. Missy – the best class captain ever! I could walk out of the classroom, leave the class in her hands, and everything just continued. Students just kept their heads down and carried on working. Actually, best class ever! Then there was Danny, who I thought was never listening, but who could always repeat word for word exactly what I had just said when I tried to catch him out. He taught me that there are many ways to listen, and of the incredible uniqueness and power of people’s brains. Every student taught me to be a better teacher and about courage and commitment as I saw, at times, students coming to school and learning every day even though they faced undeniably difficult circumstances. Such courage and such commitment to their learning! I learned from students in decile one and decile ten schools just how capable they ALL are. I never dumbed learning down for students and I think every one of them valued it and felt valued by it. I remember having a visiting teacher in one of my classrooms and a young student started talking about using subordinating clauses to improve his writing. The visiting teacher nearly fell over.

The anger I feel when people dumb down learning for children is still just as strong today as it has ever been. In fact, I can feel it rise right now even thinking about it. We must stop underestimating what ALL our tamariki are capable of. No wonder some children are bored in schools because the learning programmes they receive do not always value what they are truly capable of. We must be committed to finding out the full extent of what every child is capable of, and, we have to keep developing the systems, processes and practices that enable us to use this knowledge to develop learning programmes that meet the needs, interests and desires of every student. The journey continues. Rant over!

What a journey! What a privilege! All of it!

But it is not over. I am not retiring yet. I am just moving to another education site where I hope to continue to make a difference in education. On Thursday 27th January (also our 43rd wedding anniversary!), I began a new role at the Ministry of Education as a Chief Advisor in Te Poutāhū, the Ministry’s curriculum centre. As I look back over 40 years in schooling, I would like to say that I now feel more grown up than I did back then. But to be honest, I still feel just as I did 40 years ago - still with an unsteady hand. I guess this is not surprising because there is always more to learn. However, my passion for teaching and learning remains undiminished and my ambition to see children receive a humanising education that values all of who they are, the whole child, is just as strong today as it has ever been. My energy levels are definitely a little diminished and I will have to learn to work smarter, rather than harder.

What a ride it has been. I am so incredibly grateful for all the people I have encountered over my years in schools. And to all those I have worked particularly closely with - trustees, chairs, deputy and associate principals, co-principal, leaders, teachers, other principals, admin staff, mentors and coaches), you know who you are – thank you, thank you, a thousand times, thank you. I would not have wanted to be on this journey without you. It would have all been so much more difficult without being able to share the failures and successes with you, without having you to test my wacky ideas on and to collaborate with about the next big step forward, sometimes you even let me blab about these big ideas first thing in the morning when my brain was firing on all cylinders and you were definitely not a morning person. You provided shoulders to cry on occasionally; and, without you, the journey certainly would have been much less, much less, fun. To you all, I raise my glass!

Ka kite anō. Ngā mihi nui ki a koutou katoa.