Teacher fought for his beliefs
Graeme Oldershaw
teacher b September 22, 1942 d December 3, 2018
Graeme Oldershaw, who has died aged 76, was a positive teacher who always recognised the individualism of learners, and cared for his students.
Best known in Wellington as the principal of Wellington Teachers’ College, later Wellington College of Education te Whanau o Ako Pai, his name remains at the Karori campus where the Oldershaw building still stands.
Oldershaw, who died after a long illness, was farewelled by friends and family in a moving tribute at St Andrew’s on The Terrace last Saturday.
Born in Nelson in 1942 – his father died only two years later – he was based in the Hutt Valley during his own school years, finishing at Hutt Valley High School before going on to Victoria University of Wellington, where he achieved first-class honours in education.
Reflecting on Oldershaw’s early life, educationalist and friend Murray Gadd said he thought of the outstanding teacher, whether of primary students at Avalon School, Karori Normal School and Johnsonville West School or of the student teachers Oldershaw taught in his capacity as lecturer and then senior lecturer in professional studies at Wellington Teachers’ College.
‘‘He was a vibrant, positive and engaging teacher who always recognised the individualism of learners,’’ Gadd said. ‘‘He cared for his students, and they knew it.’’
His appointment as principal of Wellington Teachers’ College from 1985 to 1996 was the endorsement of an outstanding educational leader.
‘‘He was a humanist, both by nature and by tradition,’’ said Gadd, and he did everything he could to maintain and promote the human face of teaching and learning as the college transformed – often against his better judgment – from a liberal arts institution that helped young and not-so-young people blossom into teachers into the neo-liberal user-pays institution that it became in the late 80s and early 90s.
‘‘This was not an easy time to be principal, and he would be the first to admit that he stumbled from time to time as he fought (for example) for the retention of those selected studies that had been the tradition of Ako Pai.’’
How did his humanism manifest itself?
He was an early riser and starter at work. A 5am start for him was in fact quite late. He was often at work at 3 or 4am. Why? Insomnia might have had something to do with it; but the real reason was so that he could complete all his paperwork before everyone else arrived, leaving him free to interact with his staff and students when they arrived. He would often spend his mornings strategically and purposely wandering the corridors, popping into classes and socialising with people.
‘‘Graeme Oldershaw knew that human interactions were the most important aspect of any teaching and learning context,’’ Gadd said.
‘‘He tangata he tangata he tangata; it is people, people, people.’’
He said Oldershaw’s abilities as principal were best summed up by a text he received just before the funeral.
‘‘The sender had been a young man who could’ve been described as one of our ‘problem children’ and who Graeme must’ve been sorely tempted to expel him from time to time. But he saw the potential in this young man and believed in his inner good.
‘‘So the young man – now a leader of a large secondary school – texted: ‘He ran that college with passion and integrity which we all recognised. As you would know, I had some interesting conversations with him when I was there – I recognise now how naughty I was – but at the end of the day I am who I am and where I am because of his belief in me.’
‘‘I would suggest no greater tribute could be paid,’’ Gadd said.
Oldershaw held other positions after he left the college – as chair of the Association of Colleges of Education in New Zealand, as chair of the New Zealand Dance and Drama School, as adviser to a major secondary schools development project, as chair of disciplinary committees for the Teachers’ Council – but ‘‘none gave him the excitement of his wildest moments as principal of Ako Pai’’, Gadd said.
Graeme Bruce Oldershaw lived his life as a proud, gay man. He didn’t find coming out in the 70s easy and, like all humans, he was full of contradictions.
He was an incredibly warm and personable man who loved to socialise – he could chat easily to anyone and make you feel that he was genuinely interested in what you were sharing with him. Urbane, dapper, he was so stylish – friends all used to joke that Country Road and Rodd & Gunn would go bankrupt without his patronage.
He was full of wisdom – he had the ability to chair a meeting, listen to many points of view and quietly bring people’s thinking together in a way that satisfied most.
But he was also a fighter, especially for the underdog. He had a strong social conscience as demonstrated by his life-long devotion to liberal causes that he believed were right, particularly causes around discrimination.
St Andrew’s was full on Saturday, full of his friends – from the early years, the good years and not so good years as cancer took hold.
Interestingly, as people spoke of his inclusion in ‘‘their’’ family – as an integral part of that family – the nodding heads showed just how diverse and widespread these families were.
One of them was mine. Graeme and I and two 20s friends went on a road trip to Doubtless Bay at the top of the North Island, which whetted his appetite for later travel. Soon after, he stood as my groomsman when I married. He mentored my sister, Ann, herself a teacher of renown. Sixty, seventy years’ friendship passed in a blur. – Sources: Dr Murray Gadd, Derek Oldershaw, Sandra McCallum.