Behind the gates of Australia's 'last chance' high school

Updated

Bullied outcasts hit the textbooks alongside teen mums bouncing babies while in the next classroom youths facing juvie learn about sex in prison. Is this Australia's most unique school?

When he first became principal of Macleay Vocational College (MVC), Mark Morrison had to go out and find his pupils.

There were about 70 children on the school roll "but there was no way in the world that we had all of those students turn up", he says.

Driving around and knocking on doors, Mark began to see what he was up against and to understand that there would have to be a radical shift in the way education was delivered. Some students were hiding from the law.

Education has not been a priority in families where there wasn't a working parent for three generations. But Mark or "Moro", who came from teaching physics at the local Catholic school, knew it was the only way to break the cycle.

And he was determined that these children would be given a chance.

And he knew that what they needed wasn't just schooling, they needed to learn about life.

Climbing out of generational poverty

The town of Kempsey sits on the fertile banks of the scenic Macleay River. Beyond the town rich pastoral land runs to rainforest. Nearby are the surf breaks that roll onto the miles of pristine beaches that are the NSW mid-north coast.

But for all the bucolic natural beauty, parts of the Macleay Valley are among the poorest in the country.

Generational poverty and disadvantage are rife. These are children growing up in a place where crime is twice the state average, where there is a history of drug trafficking and violence.

Places of low expectations, where children can be hungry, and unemployment is endemic. Simply surviving childhood can be the main priority for these kids.

The school has started providing breakfast, lunch and often dinner — and it's the school principal who is making the deliveries.

At night Mark will drive though no-go zones to deliver food, fruit, muesli bars, leftover spaghetti to families.

"They definitely don't have electricity all the time, so to have hot food is a bonus for them."

Kids like Blake have finally found a place where they feel they can belong.

In the past nine years he hasn't spent a full day at school.

"He was labelled the bad kid," Rebecca Watson says of her 13-year-old son.

"The teachers all used to say they were glad to see the end of Blake at the end of the day."

Up until this year, Blake and his mother lived in constant fear of extreme domestic violence, and Blake learned from the cradle to use aggression to cope.

"I would just lash out at students, teachers and all that," Blake says.

Blake is now living in safety with stepfather and protector, Mark "Bear" Campbell-Bulluss, but life-long habits die hard and Bear is worried that Blake will "end up in juvie".

"This kid's been through hell and back," Bear says.

Blake's last chance for an education, of one day becoming a productive member of society, might well be at MVC.

Principal 'brushes close to the rules'

MVC is known locally as a "muck up" school, a place for the seemingly hopeless cases.

But contrary to their reputation, the polite and respectful MVC teens formed an eager line to let Australian Story know that they are full of gratitude to Mark, even if they might smash in his headlight every now and again.

At their previous schools, they'd been bullied, bashed, expelled or they just plain hated it and refused to go. At MVC they've discovered inclusion and respect. They say it's like a family.

Turning these kids' lives around for Mark means creating a safe refuge on school grounds and supporting them through their chaotic home lives. "My belief is that they will find something when they are ready."

It includes supporting them through court appearances and parole hearings, intervening in domestic violence, mentoring and constant counselling; all done without judgement and in the belief that they are people of value who deserve to be cared about. It's beyond the normal remit of any school principal.

"He brushes close to the rules because he understands that a piece of paper originated out of Sydney doesn't work in a time of crisis in Kempsey," MP Melinda Pavey says.

Today Mark will squeeze in a Year 12 science lesson after doing the morning's class-to-class breakfast run, breaking up a fight between two girls threatening to pull knives on each other, and then visiting one of his students in prison.

Once at home at night, he's on-call for the police or a carer for a child until he does it all again, and more, tomorrow.

Staff cars 'punched, kicked, smashed'

Mark Morrison is usually the first one in every morning to unlock the high-security gate that surrounds the MVC school perimeter. He is the personification of optimism.

He'll park his late model Subaru in the prime spot at the front gate, even though "it's the first in line to cop it if one of the kids blows up," Leeton Smith, a teacher aide, says.

Mark's car might get kicked, punched or the windscreen smashed five times a term. "You never know what to expect."

Even Mark himself has often been physically hit. More than a few times.

"But I've never once heard him yell or raise his voice," Leeton says. "He will just sit there and talk to them. I think we have got 115 students at the moment. Mark knows their names, where they live, their parents. There is not a kid that gets past without a cuddle or a handshake."

After a young pregnant student had her baby midway through her final year and never returned he realised that teenage pregnancy should not mean that a girl did not get an education, that if she dropped out of school the cycle would continue.

"We let her down. I was angry with myself that I hadn't actually listened and paid attention to what she needed," Mark says.

One of the first things Mark did when he took over in 2012 was to convert the library into a creche.

"I can see how lots of people think that life is over for them. But I can see them picking up their dreams again," Mark says.

"And when their kids have children in 20 years' time, their kids won't ever know that it's not cool to go to school."

Teenaged nursing mothers studying for their HSC can be next door to a boys' sex education for jail class. A powerful deterrent if the boys' faces are anything to go by.

Nineteen-year-old mum, Talisa, says everyone is "amazed" at her one-year-old son's developments while she studies for her HSC.

Monique is 24 years old, with five children under seven.

"I was an alcoholic at 13 years old, I met my partner at 15 and had my first at 16," Monique says.

"I want to show my kids that I am there for them." Monique wants to become a chef.

Alana has two young boys and says the on-site creche means she can study knowing her children are cared for.

"Other people look after your kids for you and supply you with food for the daytimes and have all that stuff for your kids," she says.

"I wake up in the morning and can't wait to go to school."

An important part of the school is giving its Aboriginal students a voice. A third of the staff are local Aboriginal community members.

Leeton, who is a local Kempsey Dunghutti man, runs the boys programme.

"We take them out and we go out and collect wood on country. We were making spears but the kids got a bit dangerous with them, so spears are out the window at the moment and its clap sticks and boomerangs."

Nigel, 16, says he's learned how to curb his anger since he started at MVC at the beginning of this year. Now he's hoping to become a music teacher.

"To share my music through teaching I reckon is a good goal in life," he says.

Tyler, also 16, catches three buses and travels an hour-and-a-half each way, every day, to get to college. He's been charged with affray; a serious offence that could see him serve time in juvenile detention.

"Mark takes me to court and does all my court stuff for me. He's different from other principals 'cause he actually listens to the kids' needs," Tyler says. He wants to be a music producer.

Mark has established relationships with two affluent private Sydney schools — Newington College and Queenwood School— which have donated in cash and kind to help expand the creche into a first-class facility.

Now it has early childhood programs and interventions to nurture the babies and toddlers while supporting the young mums as they finish their interrupted education.

MVC charges students $100 a term, that includes breakfast, lunch, materials and excursions. Most kids come from families who can't or don't pay.

At only 13 years of age, Blake is officially too young to attend MVC but Mark has negotiated with one of the state schools to allow Blake to visit MVC on Fridays.

Former college captain, Emily Hill was at MVC for Blake's first day. She had known first-hand the struggles to get to school and stay in school, becoming one of the first girls in her family to graduate with HSC.

Enduring threats of domestic violence had kept Blake from engaging with school until a recent change of circumstances. With Blake under her wing, Emily can see him doing well at MVC.

And by the end of day one, Blake was looking forward to coming back.

This year, a record number of 20 students have overcome the odds stacked against them and gathered together at Kempsey RSL for their jubilant graduation ceremony.

Wearing suits and gowns begged or borrowed, each student rose to the call of their name and made their way to the podium amidst the cheers of families, friends and teachers.

"They were all proud to come stand beside me and accept their certificate," Mark says.

And because of the dedication of a school that was their last chance, their futures are as bright as they want them to be.

Watch Australian Story's Eye of the Storm, 8:00pm on ABCTV and iview.

Credits:

Reporting: Kristine Taylor

Feature writer: Susan Chenery

Photography: Chris Gillette, Mark O'Leary

Digital Producer: Megan Mackander

Topics: education, children, independent-schools, secondary-schools, kempsey-2440

First posted