A teacher’s guide to getting over big mistakes

I tell my students that my ATAR score was 50.25. They gasp in shock. And yet here I am, an award-winning author who’s also doing a PhD.

I tell my students that my ATAR score was 50.25. They gasp in shock. Yet here I am, an award-winning author who's also doing a PhD. Source: Getty Images/Klaus Vedfelt

The other day, I told my students one thing no adults like to tell them. I told them how to get out of big mistakes.

“Nothing is unfixable,” I said. And it’s true.

Well, almost always true.

I told my students this because they are terrified about choosing their life path. As my Year 10 students prepare for their upcoming exams, they are told that this is one of the most important years of their lives. They’re told this is the year their subject choices will decide their Year 12 courses, which will affect how well they do in their Year 12 exams. The corresponding Australian Tertiary Admission Rank (ATAR) will then determine their university pathway, which shapes their career, and – you know – the rest of their lives. No pressure.

I tell my students there is always an alternative pathway.

“Look at Ms Pajalić,” I said, referring to myself in the third person, “she made so many mistakes, and yet here she is – an award-winning author who is doing a PhD.”

I smile, end of hero’s journey.

“What mistakes did you make?” they ask.

My students are a clever lot. Details are important, they gathered.

I tell them that my ATAR score was 50.25. They gasp in shock. This isn’t even a mediocre score, but a subpar one. And here I (still) am, telling them what to do, somehow not homeless.

I think back to my Year 12 self and the choices I made. My careers counsellor, Mr K, gave me sound advice to develop a course load that featured subjects I excelled at: English, literature, drama, art, accounting. All I had to do was show up and do the work. But I was distracted. I had a friend who had a spare session when I was supposed to be doing art. In Year 12, we were allowed to leave the school grounds during subjects, an act that felt daring and adult.

I felt so sophisticated as I sipped my latte and alternated between gossiping and day-dreaming about my post-high school life that I thought nothing of skipping class

On the first week, we decided to go to a cafe, and I felt so sophisticated as I sipped my latte and alternated between gossiping and day-dreaming about my post-high school life that I thought nothing of skipping class. One week became two, which became three. My absences were too many and I was exited out of art. If only I had retained this subject and developed a mediocre art portfolio, I would have increased my ATAR score by at least 20 per cent. Big mistake. 

When I graduated high school my coffee friend vanished, as did a respectable score.

But all was not lost because Mr K helped me decide on my university preferences, hedging my bets by ensuring I listed Bachelor of Arts, which had a minimal ATAR score requirement. Again, all I had to do was listen to his sound advice. Which I did – until the change of preference card arrived.

I had received excellent scores for drama and for a few heady moments I imagined myself as an actress. It seemed logical to change my preference to a drama course. The only trouble is, I have never been good at reading the fine print and, of course, neglected to see there was an audition requirement. More importantly, I had missed the date. To compound my mistake I had only put down one preference and sent the card in, surrendering my fate to the gods of destiny.

Reality had descended in the month after high school as I dedicated myself to being a server at a fast food joint

Turns out it was Loki, the trickster god, who heeded my call. On the day the university preferences were released, I ran to the milk bar and bought the newspaper. I stomped outside the door and opened the broadsheet, scanning the lists of student names with their university offers. I searched, but my name was nowhere to be found. It was Mr K who explained my faux pas when he called a week later, offering me another pathway with an administration course at a local TAFE. I gratefully accepted. Reality had descended in the month after high school as I dedicated myself to being a server at a fast food joint.

The administration course led to a job as a receptionist, and a shorthand course that I loathed, which made me find a writing course that I adored – finally summoning the courage to follow my passion as a writer. Each step was bumpy and full of hard lessons. Eventually, I was admitted into university at 25, graduated when I was 28, had my debut novel published when I was 32 and experienced the headiness of a dream publication journey with multiple offers, and winning awards and grants post publication. I completed my postgraduate course and became a teacher at 36, then started my PhD at 42. Now, I run my own small press and am forging my own path as a small business owner.

I wanted all my students to know that their Year 12 exams and ATAR don’t decide their future

My path has been difficult and winding, but it’s my journey. That day in class, I wanted all my students to know that their Year 12 exams and ATAR don’t decide their future. Or at least not in the way they imagine it. There is always a workaround: a longer, more circular path that will lead to many memorable moments along the way. Even if the route is sometimes dark and uncomfortable, all these moments are worthwhile stepping stones to the rest of your life.

Amra Pajalić is an award-winning author of Sabiha’s Dilemma and Alma’s Loyalty, the first two books in her own voices young adult series, Sassy Saints series. Her books are published in ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print, dyslexic font and audiobook.