For everyone Comment: A passport to empathy
Public schools play a central role in strengthening our communities, celebrating our multiculturalism and fostering our collective future, writes SHEILA NGOC PHAM.
I know firsthand how important it is to feel included at school – and what it feels like when that doesn’t happen. Attending multicultural Catholic schools were a positive experience for me, as I was also raised Catholic. In contrast, changing to a public school in Year 4 was difficult because I was one of only half a dozen Asian kids, and the first time I felt ‘different’.
When it came to my own children, though, public education was a far better reflection of our family’s values. For one thing, we are non-religious. This is in contrast to our local community, as people here are more religious than average. But that is why I knew a public school was right for us. At our school in south-west Sydney, we celebrate it all – Lunar New Year, Easter, Eid – so the pluralism works well. I understand why people seek out ‘sameness’; but under the right conditions, difference can be profoundly enriching. (You may discover you’re not all that different, after all.)
Up until recently, I’ve tended to think of Multicultural Days as being a bit naff. They often feel superficial and are rarely true exchanges. But the way it recently happened at my daughter’s super-diverse public school showed me just how meaningful such days are when there is a truly inclusive culture.
The Multicultural Day was held in honour of the Paris Olympics. All the children were given a ‘passport’ to be stamped as they rotated through classrooms. The countries chosen reflected some of the cultural backgrounds of students as well as teachers. My daughter’s teacher, who has Lebanese heritage, chose Vietnam, and asked me for advice as she wasn’t sure what activity would work best. I brainstormed with my daughter and we presented her with a fun idea.
The day was such a success that weeks later at the dinner table, I was talking about meeting the Dutch family at school, and my four-year-old son piped up: “I’ve been to The Netherlands.” I didn’t know what he was talking about as we haven’t travelled there as a family. But he went off to find his ‘passport’ and opened it up to a page stamped with the Dutch flag. He attends the preschool attached to my daughter’s primary school and his class had participated in the event as well.
Under the right conditions, difference can be profoundly enriching.
Walking through the local shopping centre the other day, I ran into two parents from school and had long conversations with them both. One is a civil engineer; the other is a cleaner. Even though we do not share the same cultural, religious, or even class backgrounds, having kids at the same school means we have good reason to be friendly. It’s edifying to be able to connect with people I would not normally know, and I find that these casual encounters make our neighbourhood a much warmer place, too.
Of course, the way ‘diversity’ manifests is not the same everywhere. But it’s concerning when public schools are not as representative of their local communities as they should be. If a family’s chosen school reflects their religious values, that’s understandable. But what about people’s other reasons for opting out of the public system? Among those I know, including many who are non-religious, the reasons seem to be about their fears as much as their aspirations.
Of course, people want what’s best for their kids. But having your children feel grounded and connected to friends and the community where they live should rank more highly than it does, especially if home is in a multicultural area. My daughter has a wonderful group of friends. They are all Muslim and from a range of cultural backgrounds. One of her friends also went through the early intervention program at the school, so we have discussed what it means to have a disability. This early experience of friendship will be foundational for these kids in helping them develop their empathy and, hopefully, their sense of humanity.
Being in such a multicultural school, my daughter feels secure in her own identity as someone with mixed heritage. I particularly appreciate the multilingualism of the student body, as it normalises the presence of languages other than English. She also learns a bit of Arabic each week, which extends her linguistic horizons. All of these factors support the importance of Vietnamese as a language in our family.
Public schools have a crucial role to play in strengthening our communities, to ensure our pluralism continues to flourish. More than ever, we need to pull together across the divides. The beauty of Australian life lies in our multicultural population – and it’s where our collective future lies as well.
