Colin James: A cautionary TAFE SA tale

MY neighbour came over to my house, smiling, clutching a TAFE certificate stating she’d successfully completed its freelance journalism course, writes Colin James. We were both gobsmacked.

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AS the fallout intensifies over the performance of TAFE SA, this personal anecdote may help shed light on the calamity facing South Australia.

Last year my neighbour, a bright and personable young woman with a passion for creative writing, sought help with pursuing a career in journalism. I gladly offered my assistance and input.

Believing a tertiary qualification might help secure a media job in these difficult and rapidly changing times of digital technology, she opted to enrol in a freelance journalism course offered by TAFE SA at its city campus.

The course consisted of monthly modules which had to be completed largely online, with marginal classroom time. There was electronic contact with a lecturer, who was available to answer questions and would mark the assignments.

My neighbour duly set about undertaking the course, initially with commendable enthusiasm. Each month, she would pop over with her assignments and seek my feedback before setting forth.

Ads for TAFE SA courses next year visible in the city, as the crisis rolls on. Picture: Cathy Davis

I would go through the modules with her, quite often expressing confusion at some of the questions she had been asked to answer or tasks she had been required to complete. Most of the time I would be at a loss to work out what relevance they actually had to the daily realities of journalism.

My neighbour’s marks, which started out well, began to deteriorate. I suggested she go and meet with her lecturer. She tried to get an appointment but was told he was not available because of other teaching commitments.

Disgruntled and dissatisfied, feeling it was her fault that she was failing, my neighbour stopped bringing her assignments over and seeking my feedback. It was a couple of months before I found out she had quit, halfway through the course and after spending several hundred dollars in fees.

I shared her disappointment, as the exercise had started with considerable promise. But, as the months progressed, I saw first-hand how it left her frustrated and disenchanted. I didn’t attempt to change her characteristically strong mind.

So it was with some surprise that she came across to my house one day, beaming with her infectious smile, clutching a certificate from TAFE stating she had successfully completed its freelance journalism course. I, like her, was gobsmacked. And very confused.

We both knew she had quit yet here it was, a glossy certificate saying she had passed. I don’t know where the certificate is now. It is probably in her backpack somewhere in Western Australia.

You see, like so many other young people, she decided to leave South Australia and head interstate. Who knows, her certificate might even help get her a writing job, so long as news of TAFE’s crisis hasn’t crossed the Nullarbor.