Heroes - hubris or humility?

Who’s your educational hero? Why? What difference have they made to your life?

These questions announced themselves at a recent awards event for the Australian Council for Educational Leaders (NSW) Branch. The culmination of the awards is the Dr Paul Brock Memorial Medal, named in honour of an educator whose commitment, passion, and dedication was made more remarkable given he battled with Motor Neurone Disease for nearly twenty years prior to his passing in 2016. This year, the medal was jointly awarded to the Secretary of the NSW Department of Education, Murat Dizdar, and Professor Br David Hall fms, a former school principal and now Dean of the La Salle Academy for Religious Education and Faith Formation at the Australian Catholic University.

Symbolically, the joint award highlights some of what makes Australian Council for Educational Leaders - ACEL a unique professional association. It brings together educators from both government and non-government schools in collaborative and collegial atmosphere. It brings together early learning centres, schools, and universities, reflecting a commitment to the broad purposes of education and their significance to the life of the nation.

Yet the occasion went well beyond symbolism. Both Murat and Br David gave brief reflections in honour of Paul Brock. Although their individual stories are markedly different, many similarities were evident. Murat initially studied law, having achieved the highest possible result for university admission, yet then changed course to become a teacher. Br David, having been educated by the Marist Brothers, took up the same vocation with a view to becoming a secondary teacher; his first appointment, though, was teaching drama to newly arrived migrants. Both rose to become principals and then system leaders. Both shared Paul’s deep commitment to social justice and the transformative power of education.

And both spoke of one of their ACEL heroes. For Murat, he was privileged to work with Paul and enjoyed a close mentoring relationship. For Br David, he reflected on the impact of Emeritus Professor Patrick Duignan (after whom there is also an ACEL award for leadership). Common to their stories was the prioritising of relationships, authenticity, and hope. The admiration of Murat’s and Br David’s respective hero was unambiguous, and well deserved.

A hero is defined by Oxford Languages (previously known as the Oxford dictionary!) as one who is “admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities”. It certainly fits with what was shared in speeches at last Friday’s event. As you look back on your growth as an educator, as a leader, as a person, who can you identify as worthy of being declared your “hero”? What was it they did that causes you to ascribe such a lofty accolade? And have you told them of this impact they’ve had?

Not all heroes remain that way, though. Theatre and literature are replete with examples of what are known as tragic heroes. These are central characters in the drama who are typically powerful, influential, and charismatic, yet the play or novel is a study in how some of the very characteristics that define their heroism result in their downfall. The precursor to the hero’s fall is also typically their pride, or hubris. Widely acknowledged as the pinnacle of the tragic hero is Oedipus, a baby born to the king and queen of mythical Thebes in Ancient Greece, and whose prophecy that he will kill his father and marry his mother comes to its distressing and disturbing fulfilment by play’s end.

As the play opens, the city is in the grip of a devastating plague, and the citizens call on Oedipus to help. Last time there was such a crisis, when the city was under the curse of the riddle of the Sphinx, Oedipus solved the riddle and freed the city. “I’ve saved the city once”, he boasts, “I’ll save it again”. This new challenge is to find the killer of the long missing king, yet in solving this puzzle Oedipus and the whole city come to know the full horror – he has indeed killed his father and subsequently (in ignorance) married his mother! His great skill at solving difficult problems has revealed his true situation, and brings the destruction of his mother/wife, Jocasta, and his own blindness (yes, tragedies are not just sad stories, but…well…tragic in their scale and impact).

Another old biblical story, that of Daniel, recounts a dream that afflicted the King Nebuchadnezzar. In the dream, a statue with a head of gold and chest of silver ends up being destroyed because a stone smashes its feet made of clay and iron. Biblical scholars consider the dream a prophecy predicting the changing fortunes of politics in the Ancient Near East, and many scholars think it written retrospectively…but that’s another story.?Yet the story has also come to exemplify a similar type of hubris. What is seen as rich, lustrous, and powerful may in fact be founded on very fragile clay, and destruction may not be far away.

Heroes, then, can do admirable and courageous acts sometimes, but at other times they can display the same frailty and foibles afflicting us all. Has that happened for you at some point? Did a hero who you thought remarkable make choices that end up showing they are…merely mortal? Did that change the way you thought of them? What do you make of this type of conundrum?

At the end of Oedipus the King, the chorus (a group of singers and dancers who also perform as the “moral voice” of Greek tragedies) offer us this reflection:

Now as we keep our watch and wait the final day,

count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

The message of tragic heroes like Oedipus is clear - hold lightly the human condition we all possess.

It’s great to honour those who have gone before us. It’s important to honour those amongst us who do extraordinary things. In contrast to Oedipus’ hubris, the humility shown by Dr Paul Brock, Murat Dizdar, and Br David Hall gives confidence their heroism, like the many other leaders honoured last Friday, is more likely of the noble, not tragic, kind.