GRADUATION DAY

 The reason for our trip to Adelaide was Sebastian's Graduation ceremony on Wednesday 18 March for his Degree in Doctor of Philosophy on the topic of "Investigating the scope and drivers of the global exotic pet trade in endemic Australian repitles and amphibians." He is now the best educated member of the family because I've never had the capacity to do what's required for a PhD: concentrate on one single topic for years. 

He looked glorious in his black floppy hat with gold tassels and his shiny red silk array over a black academic gown in his procession through Bonython Hall at the University of Adelaide. Making his mother and his aunt very proud. It was also great to see him being congratuled by students he had taught and his peers.

It was interesting to think back to past graduations. I missed my undergraduate ceremony as I was working in Canberra but I did attend my arts management post-graduate course one in Adelaide. All I remember of that event is being disappointed that my Gold Medal for Best MBA was in fact boring grey pewter and then racing back to teach a class wearing my green and aqua gown. 

When Betty graduated with her Bachelor of Arts at Winthrop Hall, I remember her holding up the queue of students waiting to get their certificates as she chatted to the Chancellor. The young people arround her woudn't have been brave enough to do that.

I didn't attend Susan's first graduation but Sebastian and I did go to one of her post-graduate conferrals. It's fascinating to look at a photo of them both 13 years ago. 

Coming from working class heritage, our collective achievements as a family is a reminder of the importance and the power of education. I wrote to various federal ministers recently in my role as acting Executive Director of the Chamber of Arts and Culture about arts education and concluded my letter this way:

"In my textbook on Arts Management (The A to Z of Arts Management, Routledge, London, 2020) , I recounted this story about measuring the value of the arts:

After giving a presentation about arts leadership to a group of mainly middle-aged men who were not people who attended theatres and galleries as a normal part of their lives, I was asked why they should care about the arts. Most of them were married with kids and I asked them to imagine their child’s life without the bedtime stories they told them, without the nursery rhymes, without the songs and craft making on Playschool,  without the dancing that children automatically do to music with rhythm, without the colourful drawings that were stuck on their fridges. In countries like Australia, every aspect of a young child’s life is full of the arts. And then I asked them to imagine their child bought up under the Taliban – with no music, no dancing, no kite flying, no singing, no painting of the human figure, no historic sculptures left to look at and wonder about whose life is richer?

Every child starts as an artist. Every child deserves to be able to build on those innate skills whether it’s in a drama class and/or with access to a music instrument, in a computer design course and/or with access to a paint brush.

Australia is a wealthy country. We can afford to provide every young person in Australia with a creative and artistic education."

Whether it's a science degree or an arts degree, an economics degree or a degree in counselling, education opens our eyes to the world and it was wonderful to see all those young (and some not so young) people collect their reward in Bonython Hall last week.