aud
Member
The student who dared
February 15 2003 (from SMH)
The HSC exam topic was revenge tragedy. So a character with a plan to disembowel the PM would be a creative fit, right? James Giugni could not have been more wrong.
Late last year I received an unusually succinct letter from the NSW Board of Studies. It informed me that a politically sensitive and "offensive" creative response I had written, in an exam for English Extension I, had been judged "non-serious" and would cause at least the cancellation of the exam, if not my entire HSC. It was a form letter, with the name of the template printed at the bottom of the page.
The psychologist who advised the board's president, Gordon Stanley, that A Thousand Acres was unsuitable for study in the HSC might care to assess the psychological appropriateness of sending these intimidatory, cold, potentially destructive letters to students.
I tried to remember what I had written to upset the board so drastically. I realised I had drawn my inspiration from two sources: Villawood Detention Centre (the real) and the vicious blood-lust of Vindice, the main character of Cyril Tourneur's play The Revenger's Tragedy (the fictional) - one of the texts the board had prescribed for the course.
I have visited Villawood several times, and it has affirmed my view that the federal regime is nothing short of evil in its treatment of asylum seekers. Moreover, I have learnt that the cage in which we keep refugees torments many of them to the point of mental breakdown.
If there were any doubts that Villawood is capable of causing severe reactive depression in its detainees, surely the recent fires and riots are testament to this reality.
I created a character in my English paper, then, who was a combination of Villawood-instilled depression and Vindice-like frenzy. My character wrote a letter to the editor of the Herald, outlining the trauma he had suffered in his four years of detention and detailing his intention to disembowel the Prime Minister, who, in my story, was performing a public relations stunt by visiting schoolies week at Surfers Paradise.
We've all seen footage of MPs going into Australia's interior, awkwardly wearing Akubras and unconvincingly sipping on VBs, so can't you just imagine our PM clumsily trying to let down his hair with the youngsters?
My lunatic character took a perverse, giddy delight in fantasising about how harm might be done to those who were, to him, responsible for his miserable plight. My aim in giving my character this barbaric attitude was not to be apathetic about the HSC, "non-serious" or frivolous, but to explore that characteristic of revenge tragedy that I had seriously studied and found so insightful in Tourneur's play - the ruthless, passionate savagery of the main character. As that very exam paper stated, "the fascination of revenge tragedy lies in its study of ignobility", so I thought my response would be appropriate.
Nevertheless, the board slapped my creative licence in the face. It encouraged me to write a letter of explanation if I felt there were "mitigating circumstances for my non-serious attempt". I did write, trying to justify my intentions in the exam and explaining how insulting it is to be told my attempt at originality had not been taken seriously.
I have not received a response to my letter. Nor has the board responded to any of the emails I have sent it. On several occasions, I rang the board - I was always passed around between secretaries, never actually talking to an officer - and I left phone numbers. My calls were never returned.
The board has hardly acknowledged any confrontation. It's as if it never happened.
Thankfully, my English teacher wrote to the board, respectfully suggesting that it reconsider its action. My father also supported my cause, knowing enough about law, I think, to scare the board into reviewing my paper.
In the end, I copped my worst result for a piece of writing - despite an assurance to my father from the director of examinations and certification that I would be "pleasantly surprised" with my reviewed mark.
After receiving my ordinary mark, my father tried to have my paper released under the Freedom of Information Act. The board refused, despite indications from the general manager, John Bennett, that it would co-operate. Essentially, its markers can censor anything they like and, because the papers are never made public, they can get away with it.
I have no doubt that if I were a less-favoured student, stuck with a dispassionate English teacher and an apathetic or less erudite father, the board would have gladly butchered my HSC. To the board, it is immaterial whether I was right or wrong; all that matters is that I had a support network capable of scaring it into retreat.
Fortunately, things brought themselves to a mildly satisfactory resolution. If I were a more than usually sensitive student, or someone who was relying heavily on the HSC, who knows what sort of damage might have been done? Is the board happy to threaten someone's career?
What if the board had a suicide on its hands from such callousness?
Students put an extraordinary amount of trust in markers. By marking political statements with aggressive censorship, the board betrays this trust. If I had to go through the HSC again, I would be distressed, knowing that any trust I have in the board - which virtually holds power over me - is misplaced.
I (and who knows how many others?) was deliberately censored and punished for presenting a politically controversial view. Education, as long as it is dominated by the Board of Studies we are presently stuck with, is rewarding the indoctrinated and crucifying creativity. The board does not represent pure education, or passionate teachers, or real literature. Any student with independent thought feels resentment and contempt for it. But, at this stage, anyone trying to be creative will just be censored into oblivion.
James Giugni is enrolled to study arts at Sydney University.
February 15 2003 (from SMH)
The HSC exam topic was revenge tragedy. So a character with a plan to disembowel the PM would be a creative fit, right? James Giugni could not have been more wrong.
Late last year I received an unusually succinct letter from the NSW Board of Studies. It informed me that a politically sensitive and "offensive" creative response I had written, in an exam for English Extension I, had been judged "non-serious" and would cause at least the cancellation of the exam, if not my entire HSC. It was a form letter, with the name of the template printed at the bottom of the page.
The psychologist who advised the board's president, Gordon Stanley, that A Thousand Acres was unsuitable for study in the HSC might care to assess the psychological appropriateness of sending these intimidatory, cold, potentially destructive letters to students.
I tried to remember what I had written to upset the board so drastically. I realised I had drawn my inspiration from two sources: Villawood Detention Centre (the real) and the vicious blood-lust of Vindice, the main character of Cyril Tourneur's play The Revenger's Tragedy (the fictional) - one of the texts the board had prescribed for the course.
I have visited Villawood several times, and it has affirmed my view that the federal regime is nothing short of evil in its treatment of asylum seekers. Moreover, I have learnt that the cage in which we keep refugees torments many of them to the point of mental breakdown.
If there were any doubts that Villawood is capable of causing severe reactive depression in its detainees, surely the recent fires and riots are testament to this reality.
I created a character in my English paper, then, who was a combination of Villawood-instilled depression and Vindice-like frenzy. My character wrote a letter to the editor of the Herald, outlining the trauma he had suffered in his four years of detention and detailing his intention to disembowel the Prime Minister, who, in my story, was performing a public relations stunt by visiting schoolies week at Surfers Paradise.
We've all seen footage of MPs going into Australia's interior, awkwardly wearing Akubras and unconvincingly sipping on VBs, so can't you just imagine our PM clumsily trying to let down his hair with the youngsters?
My lunatic character took a perverse, giddy delight in fantasising about how harm might be done to those who were, to him, responsible for his miserable plight. My aim in giving my character this barbaric attitude was not to be apathetic about the HSC, "non-serious" or frivolous, but to explore that characteristic of revenge tragedy that I had seriously studied and found so insightful in Tourneur's play - the ruthless, passionate savagery of the main character. As that very exam paper stated, "the fascination of revenge tragedy lies in its study of ignobility", so I thought my response would be appropriate.
Nevertheless, the board slapped my creative licence in the face. It encouraged me to write a letter of explanation if I felt there were "mitigating circumstances for my non-serious attempt". I did write, trying to justify my intentions in the exam and explaining how insulting it is to be told my attempt at originality had not been taken seriously.
I have not received a response to my letter. Nor has the board responded to any of the emails I have sent it. On several occasions, I rang the board - I was always passed around between secretaries, never actually talking to an officer - and I left phone numbers. My calls were never returned.
The board has hardly acknowledged any confrontation. It's as if it never happened.
Thankfully, my English teacher wrote to the board, respectfully suggesting that it reconsider its action. My father also supported my cause, knowing enough about law, I think, to scare the board into reviewing my paper.
In the end, I copped my worst result for a piece of writing - despite an assurance to my father from the director of examinations and certification that I would be "pleasantly surprised" with my reviewed mark.
After receiving my ordinary mark, my father tried to have my paper released under the Freedom of Information Act. The board refused, despite indications from the general manager, John Bennett, that it would co-operate. Essentially, its markers can censor anything they like and, because the papers are never made public, they can get away with it.
I have no doubt that if I were a less-favoured student, stuck with a dispassionate English teacher and an apathetic or less erudite father, the board would have gladly butchered my HSC. To the board, it is immaterial whether I was right or wrong; all that matters is that I had a support network capable of scaring it into retreat.
Fortunately, things brought themselves to a mildly satisfactory resolution. If I were a more than usually sensitive student, or someone who was relying heavily on the HSC, who knows what sort of damage might have been done? Is the board happy to threaten someone's career?
What if the board had a suicide on its hands from such callousness?
Students put an extraordinary amount of trust in markers. By marking political statements with aggressive censorship, the board betrays this trust. If I had to go through the HSC again, I would be distressed, knowing that any trust I have in the board - which virtually holds power over me - is misplaced.
I (and who knows how many others?) was deliberately censored and punished for presenting a politically controversial view. Education, as long as it is dominated by the Board of Studies we are presently stuck with, is rewarding the indoctrinated and crucifying creativity. The board does not represent pure education, or passionate teachers, or real literature. Any student with independent thought feels resentment and contempt for it. But, at this stage, anyone trying to be creative will just be censored into oblivion.
James Giugni is enrolled to study arts at Sydney University.
