Sometimes the lessons that lasted weren’t found in textbooks.

Some teachers stay with us because they made school enjoyable.

Others stay with us because they managed to say exactly what we needed to hear, even if we didn’t particularly appreciate it at the time.

Mrs Hawker was one of those teachers.

During Year 12, I somehow achieved the impressive feat of getting caught sneaking out of our city accommodation during a school trip to experience the nightlife.

Not once.

Twice.

The result was a two-week suspension, which as you can imagine was received at home with calm, measured understanding… not.

My parents were furious

But looking back, the suspension wasn’t the part that changed anything.

Mrs Hawker was.

You see, she could see something I probably couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit.

I was drifting.

There were only months left before exams and my priorities had become slightly confused. The social side of Year 12 was receiving a lot more attention than the study side and she could have delivered the standard lecture about responsibility and wasted opportunities.

Instead, she tried something else.

“You’re going to fail,” she told me. “You’re too busy wanting to party. You’re not good enough to pass. You really aren’t, you’re not cut out to pass Year 12.”

I still remember it, and at the time it sounded harsh.

Years later, I realised it was very carefully planned. Mrs Hawker knew exactly which button to press and she understood very well that I wasn’t particularly good at walking away from a challenge.

Suddenly I had something to prove.

I studied. I focused. I even eased up the partying. And I stopped assuming everything would somehow work itself out.

And I passed.

I eventually realised Mrs Hawker never really thought I would fail… she was making sure I didn’t.

The teachers we only understand later

It’s funny how your view of teachers can change with age, and the teacher you thought was too strict at 15 or 16 can look very different decades later.

The rules that seemed unfair, or standards that seemed too high, and this one was a biggie… the advice you didn’t want to hear.

Sometimes you only recognise the intention behind it after you’ve had a few more years of life experience yourself.

Of course, schools weren’t perfect. Some people carry difficult memories too, and not every old classroom story deserves a warm glow of nostalgia.

But many Australians have at least one teacher whose name has never left them.

Someone who noticed, or that teacher who pushed a little.

The one who cared enough to expect more, and they knew damn well that they could get more out of you.

When teachers became human

School camps and excursions were often the first time we discovered something surprising: teachers existed outside school and, even more of a surprise, they were actually human.

They wore normal clothes, they could laugh, why they could even get tired and attempted the impossible task of convincing a room full of excited students to stop whispering and go to sleep.

School trips created their own strange little worlds.

The terrible food. Ghost stories. The cabin or dorm dramas. The student who packed enough supplies for six months and the one who somehow forgot something essential.

Years later, you realise the teachers probably went home exhausted, but at the time we all just thought they loved telling everyone to be quiet.

The lesson that lasted

When I thanked Mrs Hawker later, she didn’t launch into a speech or tell me she knew it would work all along.

She just smiled.

It was a smile I still remember because, for the first time in all my years knowing her, I saw something different.

The fearsome teacher disappeared, her eyes softened, and I realised what had probably been there the whole time.

She cared.

She had never been trying to prove me wrong; she was waiting for me to prove myself right.

And yes, I gave her a hug (it was a different time).

Mrs Hawker has since passed away, but I hope she knew just how many students carried her lessons with them long after they left her classroom.

I certainly did.

Looking back, the lesson she taught me wasn’t one that appeared in an exam…

Your turn

Who was the teacher you never forgot?

Was there someone who encouraged you, challenged you or changed the way you saw yourself?

We’d love to hear about the teachers whose lessons lasted long after school finished.

This article is part of ‘Lessons That Last’, a new Starts At 60 series exploring the memories, traditions and school experiences that shape Australians across generations, presented in partnership with Schoolblazer Limited, a specialist school uniform company that works with hundreds of schools internationally. Through Lessons That Last, Starts At 60 is exploring the memories and experiences of school life across generations of Australians.