In 2016, I worked as a part of Language Diversity at ANU, to stop proposed cuts to programs in the College of Asia and the Pacific’s School of Culture, History and Languages (CHL). While working with the group, I learned valuable lessons about the university.
2016 was not the start of the review, rather it marked the point at which the review came to the attention of students. To summarise, there were two main impacts that the review would have on the future of the school. One was the loss of staff members and the casualisation of future staffing. The other was the movement towards teaching some languages (so called ‘less-commonly taught’ languages – a name which solidifies their status rather than attempting to change it) using online platforms. The school administration continually denied that these languages would be moved completely online while removing the face-to-face element. However, the recent whisperings regarding moving Burmese language courses to an entirely online platform only three years after the language began, proves there were some things we were not being told.
The review taught us many hard lessons, among which these five stand out as the most valuable to future generations of students
The university as a business
The university is a business and undertakes many measures to ensure that its business runs smoothly. One way in which they do this is through conducting financial ’reviews’ to measure sustainability in the various colleges and schools. As students, we can accept that these reviews must happen and try to understand the reasoning behind it, however there is a point at which our acceptance reaches its limit.
Whether or not a student body can accept review findings depends on the collegiality of the school in question. In the case of CHL, that collegiality was our most important asset.
The university as a hub of collegiality
The university can be a hub of collegiality. This is not always the case, particularly when class sizes can be large, tutorials sparse and the student population an ever-changing group of people.
CHL was and still is a rare example of collegiality both between students, and between students and teachers. It was this collegiality that led students to draw a line in the sand when it became clear that the school was undergoing a review.
The creation of a cohort in CHL was something that distinguished the school from others in the university. There are two factors that lead to the creation of a cohort in this case; the first is through language study and the second is through small class sizes. Language study – particularly of languages which have complex writing systems – requires a high concentration of contact hours. This means that the same people see each other many times per week – for example, first-year Mandarin students can spend around nine hours per week in class together – allowing for the formation of strong friendships. Indeed, during language study it is impossible not to engage, as classroom exercises often involve partner or group work. As the same group of people finish beginner level courses and move into intermediate and advanced, the group grows stronger. Relationships with lecturers and tutors also deepen, as students are continually taught by the same people.
In addition, class size is an important factor. Although not all classes in CHL were language classes, most were small; that is, containing less than fifty, sometimes less than twenty students. Once again, this fosters strong relationships between students and teachers, particularly if students study the same types of subjects over a period of years.
The strong cohort of students who cared deeply about issues affecting the school was part of the nature of CHL. It was only to be expected that these students would seek to protect themselves and their teachers from the university’s cost-cutting measures. The bonds between students and teachers wove together to form a stronger network than the school administration anticipated.
The university as a clever opponent
The university was and always has been a clever opponent. Advocacy movements did make an impact in 2016, mainly through the use of print and social media to hit the university’s reputation. At the time, it felt mountainous. We showed the university that the student body does listen and does care. We educated ourselves about the issues, fought for our rights, appeared at important meetings and made as much noise as we could. Now, what remains? I have noticed recently that students are being invited to more meetings than previously, and that the university is being more careful about its image now. Looking back at the outcome of the review, however, there were many things which we could not stop. The changes recommended as part of the review, such as language classes moved to online platforms, are still being implemented, yet the students and in some cases the teachers are not being told until the very last moment.
The university has learnt an ironic lesson. It will conduct reviews with far more secrecy than before. The changes implemented will happen quickly and quietly, with barely any time for student and teacher bodies to react. Perhaps what we have taught the university is the importance of fighting dirty.
But if the university has learnt lessons about the way it conducts reviews, the student body has also learnt from this. We have set a valuable precedent for advocacy and the use of the student voice. Memories are held within places like rings within a tree’s trunk, and the memories of our protests will remain. Yet, as the campus and the student body continues to change, we need to make sure that the memory of places such as the Union Court amphitheatre, which saw many protests over the years, does not disappear along with them.
The university as a place of constant change
The university is constantly changing – and nothing changes more often than the population of the people who fill it. The advocacy movements which rose up to protect CHL from the review faced many challenges. Overall, the effect was something like a firework which fizzles out after a short time. The reason why the movement could not be sustained over a long time can be boiled down to a few primary reasons, one of which is that the student population is replaced completely at least once every four-to-five years. It doesn’t matter how hard one person fights, at some point every student graduates.
The second biggest challenge is burnout. The university is a formidable opponent, and continuous fighting is exhausting and not entirely conducive to good grades. As key individuals experienced burnout, and the future relied on students who had never actually experienced the review, it became harder to find people to take up the fight.
Thinking outside the university box
The university teaches us to think inside a box. Like it or not, we graduate knowing how to write essays not to demonstrate depth of thought, but to get high distinctions. We are taught to think critically, but not how to apply this thinking to our own situations. In history classes we learn about revolutions, in law about standing up for our rights. We learn the importance of language and culture to understanding. The university seeks to challenge these key learnings by refusing to fund programs it has taught us are important. The university should have expected a backlash.
At one point in 2016, I was told in no uncertain terms by a member of the administration to ‘grow up’. The risk of becoming too emotional is always there with advocacy, but I was clearly being told to accept the review and understand that there are more important things to worry about in life. However, ‘growing up’ should not be synonymous with ‘giving up’. The differences in age and the amazing wisdom of some of the other PhD students, tutors and senior lecturers I was working with proved to me that this fight wasn’t centred around immaturity or denial. We weren’t throwing a tantrum but locking onto a very real issue that would affect students far into the future. The important thing is to be mature, calm and considered, but not to ‘grow up’ if that means accepting a reality you don’t believe in.
The university will not reform its ways. Reviews will happen again and again. Students must be prepared for this. We must use the structures that are put in place to create chains of communication between ourselves and the faculty, and thereby put ourselves into the process. We are an inherent part of the institution, and we must teach the university that we deserve a role in the way it is run.
The belligerent fight, which taught the university to be smarter in its ways, was not the best way to fight. The best thing to do is instead to keep our eyes and ears open. Act quickly and quietly, open the floor to conversations, let them know that we are watching them, and make our voices heard where we can. Keep the memories of previous movements alive, remember what we can achieve, and remember not to settle for less.
