Blackboard Jungle

Snippets from the archives of a bygone era

In the year 2012, I enrolled in a full-time Certificate IV Film and Digital Media course with a view to enhancing my résumé. The class was largely taught by somewhat disgruntled teachers who had to contend with a mixture of school students doing vocational education training (VET), Centrelink customers, and mature-aged students. Most of the students weren’t all that tech-savvy nor particularly interested in the curriculum. However, most were under the misapprehension that the course would somehow lead to a career in the bereft Australian film industry.

The curriculum was divided into five classes: Film Editing and Scriptwriting, Camera and Lighting, Audio, OH&S (occupational health and safety), and Critical and Creative Thinking Skills, which was combined with Work Effectively in Screen Media. The syllabus was rarely adhered to in the majority of subjects, and teachers would often leave classes unattended for hours or not show up at all. When substitute teachers were used, they were confused as to what to teach or at what level the lessons were at. Assignments were rarely completed or even attempted by the students, who were generally disruptive in class.

From the onset, I suspected that a mature-aged student with experience in the industry would earn the vexation of some students or possibly even the teaching staff, so I tried to be as reticent and unobtrusive as possible. However, being compelled to work in student groups, mandated to read assignments aloud, and called upon to answer questions in class, I found there was nowhere to hide.

RPL (Recognition of Prior Learning)

From the onset, students were told that if they could prove they had gained the equivalent skills or knowledge in any subject, they may be granted RPL (recognition of prior learning) and didn’t need to attend those classes. “We don’t want to be teaching you skills that you already know,” was a direct quote from the head teacher.

After some months of suffering through the incongruity taught by tardy teaching staff to apathetic and disruptive students, I applied for RPL in all core subjects. However, I decided to attend those classes until the RPL was approved. Most teachers took my RPL applications as a personal attack, and I became the class pariah with my RPL being thwarted at every avenue.

Film Editing and Scriptwriting

Film editing was taught on underperforming computers using a non-industry standard NLE (non-linear editor). However, students mostly used their PCs to log onto social networks, especially when teachers left classes unattended. For reasons unknown, scriptwriting strictly followed the ‘Hollywood formula’, analogous to the thousands of mundane formula scripts that dominate movie streaming services today.

Only hours into the first day of class, the teacher, who was the head teacher, asked if anyone had any objections to him screening a movie containing explicit sex scenes. Of course none of the students objected, thinking they were now part of some avant-garde film elite. So the teacher proceeded to screen The Antichrist, which is banned in some countries, including France, for the unsimulated sex performed by porn stars that doubled for the lead actors. I’m not a puritan, but I couldn’t help wondering, “Why did he do that?”

Critical and Creative Thinking Skills and Work Effectively in Screen Media

This class was often set in groups to participate in nonsensical tasks such as redesigning a computer mouse or discussing the attributes of a lead pencil. One assignment that did make sense was to ‘Create and execute a talk/presentation to the class on a key production role within the film, television, or digital media industries’. The presentation was to be four minutes in length with a maximum of four and a half minutes, with a 10% penalty if the presentation was under or over the required time limit. I chose ENG (Electronic News Gathering) as I had worked in this industry, which is simply the gathering of news using electronic video and audio technologies. I worked extensively on the assignment.

On the day of the presentation, the few students that had completed the assignment faced the class with their plagiarised, cut-and-pasted pages, which they read parrot-like, stammering over the words they neither understood nor couldn’t pronounce.

I delivered my presentation with the aid of a timer because I didn’t want to incur the 10% time penalty, which I thought was bizarre. At the end of each student’s presentation, the teacher quizzed them on their assignment and mostly praised their efforts (ignoring the cut-and-pasted plagiarism). However, when I finished my presentation, he remained silent. In summarising the class effort, I was the only student singled out; this was for using a timer and “not introducing myself correctly.”

I never received any assessment marks for my presentation, and on my Transcript of Academic Award, the notation simply read, “Not yet competent.”

Audio

The audio teacher was a young mum who had a gig at the ABC as a sound recordist. I didn’t envision that it was a full-time gig due to her teaching commitment at the institute. She was quite pleasant at first but had a limited knowledge of audio; she taught that the gain structure knob on the digital audio recorder was a volume control for a distant audio source. She also didn’t quite understand balanced and unbalanced microphone levels and often confused these with line and microphone levels. I mostly sat silently in the audio class but did complete all my assignments. The audio teacher strongly disapproved of my RPL application but said she wouldn’t oppose it.

Camera and Lighting

The camera and lighting teacher was nostalgically trapped in a world of celluloid film and tungsten lighting, which he excelled in but couldn’t break free from. He reminded me of a grown-up version of eight-year-old Salvatore from Cinema Paradiso with an addiction to celluloid. He often expressed his anger and frustration at the closing of most of his favourite film laboratories, where he had once taken his 16mm camera negatives for processing. He was moody and had a loathing for the VET students and Centrelink customers. He revelled in the fact that the following year’s degree course would be attached to a hefty HECS fee. “You won’t be able to come down here for a bludge next year,” he’d tell the class. He had many heated exchanges with students; one in particular saw him go into a lengthy diatribe after a student sang the praises of a short film he made by strapping a digital GoPro camera to his skateboard. The exchange ended with the student storming out of the class. Eventually, the camera and lighting teacher began skipping his own classes, probably due to his exasperation with the modernisation of the industry combined with the students’ indifference to his teaching. During these absences, the students, some of whom aspired to become film actors, would craft their own pathetic short films.

OH&S (Occupational Health and Safety)

The OH&S class was tragically boring. I’m actually a safety nut, but this class was way off track and affirmed my opinion that OH&S is often reduced to ticking boxes instead of understanding real safety issues. There were two memorable excursions; one was to observe graffiti on a wall where homeless people camped, and the other was an assignment to photograph kitchens. I am still mystified about these excursions. The saving factor was that the teacher, who was an elderly lady, was a sweetheart, so I diligently completed all my assignments and handed them in on time.

The Film Shoot

Towards the end of the first semester, the ‘Film Editing and Scriptwriting’ class was divided into a number of groups that had to script and shoot a short film. When my group met, I suggested a theme about a homeless person who keeps a neat suit and toiletries in a locker, which enables him to dress up, enter trade shows and events, mingle with the guests, and freeload on the food. There was only one other suggestion from a new student who’d lived in Africa. He suggested a narrative about a destitute person who disrobes and plans a deathly plunge into a river but abandons his suicide attempt to chase a thief who steals his clothes. I happily surrendered my idea and even wrote the script for the new narrative, which was accepted.

None of the other groups wrote scripts, so the teacher decided to combine all the groups to shoot the attempted suicide script. The class then started to make ridiculous and extensive rewrites of the script until it became nondescript. I objected and was not only outvoted by the class but ostracised by the substitute teacher, who had organised the vote. That was the last class I attended. My RPL applications were never addressed, and all my assessments and my DVD showreel were said to be lost. Some months past, but my continued complaints were finally addressed with the condition that I pass a practical assessment test at the institute.

On the day of the practical assessment test, I felt ambushed as only the teachers that had taken exception to my requests for RPL showed up. Noticeably absent were the Camera and Lighting teacher and the Film Editing and Script Writing teacher. There were three teachers present: the Critical and Creative Thinking Skills teacher, the Audio teacher, and a surrogate teacher who was the Film Editing and Script Writing teacher’s partner; she began with a barrage of demands and questions while I was setting up a comprehensive amount of camera, lighting, and audio equipment.

During the assessment, I was continually reminded by all three teachers that they had limited time because of other commitments, and I was forewarned that I had to break down and pack all the equipment back into road cases after the test in the given timeframe.

After completing several tasks, I commented that the digital audio recorder was faulty; in fact, the output had been stuck on microphone level since the beginning of the semester, and some other menu settings had been messed with. When I asked for a little help, I was told by the audio teacher that I should know how to rectify these problems. After a short exchange, I commented, “I can’t be expected to know every menu setting on every piece of digital equipment, especially when the students are messing with the menus every day.”

“Well, you should have come to class,” she patronizingly replied. The room fell silent, the other teachers realising how derogatory the comment was.

I took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” I left all the equipment scattered around the room and walked towards the door, ignoring the choir of voices pleading with me to return. I never really liked the break down or load out anyway.

After months of writing complaints, attending meetings, and submitting further RPL proof, I finally received my Certificate IV in Film and Digital Media, which is not worth the paper it’s printed on. I sometimes encounter students from my class who work in the various service industries in my area, including liquor stores and petrol servos, and I’m reminded of those immortal words sung by Dionne Warwick: “And all the stars that never were are parking cars and pumping gas.”