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The Advertiser
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
This modest and well-meaning story has impeccable historical detail
Inspirational teachers enjoy a well-deserved niche at the movies. To Sir, With Love, with Sidney Poitier, was a landmark in the sixties, while The Teacher Who Promised the Sea is a recent entry in the Spanish language. The late Robin Williams was unforgettable as one of these special, brilliantly motivational people in Dead Poets Society. While Mr Burton charts the success of a teacher who was indispensable to the development of one of the great movie stars, it also reveals the early life of an actor who seemed destined for the same life as his alcoholic father, a rough Welsh coal miner. The hardship Richard Burton endured in his early life may come as a shock, but it also serves as an insight into the destructive personal struggles in his later life, when it seemed he had everything. A classic film about an inspirational teacher, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, was running in cinemas in 1939, around the time that 17-year-old Richard Burton (Harry Lawtey) was nearing his last year at school in a mining town in Wales. Life with his beloved elder sister Cis (Aimee Ffion-Edwards) would be alright, were it not for her coalminer husband, Elfed (Aneurin Barnard), who had no interest in letting him finish his schooling. However, his gifted literature teacher, who also delved in theatre and radio, somehow saw the potential that his sulky, wilful student had to be a great actor. And the rest is history. Philip Burton (Toby Jones) assumed guardianship of the young man, Richard Jenkins, who then adopted his name. Their mentoring relationship became as close as father and son, with Richard able to finish his schooling, consider a place at university, and make his way through rounds of auditions until he triumphed on stage in Shakespeare's Henry IV at Stratford-Upon-Avon in the early 1950s. It was a truly remarkable transformation. There had been so many obstacles to a life beyond Port Talbot, let alone to achieving international success on stage and screen. Richard was the 12th of 13 children, had lost his mother at the age of two and seemed destined to follow in the footsteps of his father, Dic (Steffan Rodhri), a pugnacious coal miner who spent his time outside the pits at the pub downing pints. How could young Richard imagine a future beyond the daily grind? The answer is, of course, through the arts. Mr Burton is a Welsh production. It is told as a period drama, modestly mounted with impeccable historical detail, effectively capturing the ambience of gloomy mid-century Welsh mining towns and the kind of characters that they produced. In this modest, well-meaning story directed by Marc Hyams and based on a screenplay written by Josh Hyams and Tom Bullough, we leave off at the start of Richard Burton's brilliant career. A little abruptly, perhaps, even though his life and career were soon to become public property. Before the final fade, there is no hint at all of the glamorous world in which he would become a famous player, critically acclaimed and able to command a huge fee for his Hollywood performances. And then there was the uniquely beautiful actor he married, twice, Elizabeth Taylor. What makes a great actor? It is always a question worth asking. Richard Burton's teacher had his work cut out. The accent would need modulating, and the anger and frustration would need tempering, but how did he come by that special something with which an actor makes a connection with audiences? his touching tale of success against the odds at least reveals the vulnerability that can lie behind mesmerising performance. Inspirational teachers enjoy a well-deserved niche at the movies. To Sir, With Love, with Sidney Poitier, was a landmark in the sixties, while The Teacher Who Promised the Sea is a recent entry in the Spanish language. The late Robin Williams was unforgettable as one of these special, brilliantly motivational people in Dead Poets Society. While Mr Burton charts the success of a teacher who was indispensable to the development of one of the great movie stars, it also reveals the early life of an actor who seemed destined for the same life as his alcoholic father, a rough Welsh coal miner. The hardship Richard Burton endured in his early life may come as a shock, but it also serves as an insight into the destructive personal struggles in his later life, when it seemed he had everything. A classic film about an inspirational teacher, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, was running in cinemas in 1939, around the time that 17-year-old Richard Burton (Harry Lawtey) was nearing his last year at school in a mining town in Wales. Life with his beloved elder sister Cis (Aimee Ffion-Edwards) would be alright, were it not for her coalminer husband, Elfed (Aneurin Barnard), who had no interest in letting him finish his schooling. However, his gifted literature teacher, who also delved in theatre and radio, somehow saw the potential that his sulky, wilful student had to be a great actor. And the rest is history. Philip Burton (Toby Jones) assumed guardianship of the young man, Richard Jenkins, who then adopted his name. Their mentoring relationship became as close as father and son, with Richard able to finish his schooling, consider a place at university, and make his way through rounds of auditions until he triumphed on stage in Shakespeare's Henry IV at Stratford-Upon-Avon in the early 1950s. It was a truly remarkable transformation. There had been so many obstacles to a life beyond Port Talbot, let alone to achieving international success on stage and screen. Richard was the 12th of 13 children, had lost his mother at the age of two and seemed destined to follow in the footsteps of his father, Dic (Steffan Rodhri), a pugnacious coal miner who spent his time outside the pits at the pub downing pints. How could young Richard imagine a future beyond the daily grind? The answer is, of course, through the arts. Mr Burton is a Welsh production. It is told as a period drama, modestly mounted with impeccable historical detail, effectively capturing the ambience of gloomy mid-century Welsh mining towns and the kind of characters that they produced. In this modest, well-meaning story directed by Marc Hyams and based on a screenplay written by Josh Hyams and Tom Bullough, we leave off at the start of Richard Burton's brilliant career. A little abruptly, perhaps, even though his life and career were soon to become public property. Before the final fade, there is no hint at all of the glamorous world in which he would become a famous player, critically acclaimed and able to command a huge fee for his Hollywood performances. And then there was the uniquely beautiful actor he married, twice, Elizabeth Taylor. What makes a great actor? It is always a question worth asking. Richard Burton's teacher had his work cut out. The accent would need modulating, and the anger and frustration would need tempering, but how did he come by that special something with which an actor makes a connection with audiences? his touching tale of success against the odds at least reveals the vulnerability that can lie behind mesmerising performance. Inspirational teachers enjoy a well-deserved niche at the movies. To Sir, With Love, with Sidney Poitier, was a landmark in the sixties, while The Teacher Who Promised the Sea is a recent entry in the Spanish language. The late Robin Williams was unforgettable as one of these special, brilliantly motivational people in Dead Poets Society. While Mr Burton charts the success of a teacher who was indispensable to the development of one of the great movie stars, it also reveals the early life of an actor who seemed destined for the same life as his alcoholic father, a rough Welsh coal miner. The hardship Richard Burton endured in his early life may come as a shock, but it also serves as an insight into the destructive personal struggles in his later life, when it seemed he had everything. A classic film about an inspirational teacher, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, was running in cinemas in 1939, around the time that 17-year-old Richard Burton (Harry Lawtey) was nearing his last year at school in a mining town in Wales. Life with his beloved elder sister Cis (Aimee Ffion-Edwards) would be alright, were it not for her coalminer husband, Elfed (Aneurin Barnard), who had no interest in letting him finish his schooling. However, his gifted literature teacher, who also delved in theatre and radio, somehow saw the potential that his sulky, wilful student had to be a great actor. And the rest is history. Philip Burton (Toby Jones) assumed guardianship of the young man, Richard Jenkins, who then adopted his name. Their mentoring relationship became as close as father and son, with Richard able to finish his schooling, consider a place at university, and make his way through rounds of auditions until he triumphed on stage in Shakespeare's Henry IV at Stratford-Upon-Avon in the early 1950s. It was a truly remarkable transformation. There had been so many obstacles to a life beyond Port Talbot, let alone to achieving international success on stage and screen. Richard was the 12th of 13 children, had lost his mother at the age of two and seemed destined to follow in the footsteps of his father, Dic (Steffan Rodhri), a pugnacious coal miner who spent his time outside the pits at the pub downing pints. How could young Richard imagine a future beyond the daily grind? The answer is, of course, through the arts. Mr Burton is a Welsh production. It is told as a period drama, modestly mounted with impeccable historical detail, effectively capturing the ambience of gloomy mid-century Welsh mining towns and the kind of characters that they produced. In this modest, well-meaning story directed by Marc Hyams and based on a screenplay written by Josh Hyams and Tom Bullough, we leave off at the start of Richard Burton's brilliant career. A little abruptly, perhaps, even though his life and career were soon to become public property. Before the final fade, there is no hint at all of the glamorous world in which he would become a famous player, critically acclaimed and able to command a huge fee for his Hollywood performances. And then there was the uniquely beautiful actor he married, twice, Elizabeth Taylor. What makes a great actor? It is always a question worth asking. Richard Burton's teacher had his work cut out. The accent would need modulating, and the anger and frustration would need tempering, but how did he come by that special something with which an actor makes a connection with audiences? his touching tale of success against the odds at least reveals the vulnerability that can lie behind mesmerising performance. Inspirational teachers enjoy a well-deserved niche at the movies. To Sir, With Love, with Sidney Poitier, was a landmark in the sixties, while The Teacher Who Promised the Sea is a recent entry in the Spanish language. The late Robin Williams was unforgettable as one of these special, brilliantly motivational people in Dead Poets Society. While Mr Burton charts the success of a teacher who was indispensable to the development of one of the great movie stars, it also reveals the early life of an actor who seemed destined for the same life as his alcoholic father, a rough Welsh coal miner. The hardship Richard Burton endured in his early life may come as a shock, but it also serves as an insight into the destructive personal struggles in his later life, when it seemed he had everything. A classic film about an inspirational teacher, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, was running in cinemas in 1939, around the time that 17-year-old Richard Burton (Harry Lawtey) was nearing his last year at school in a mining town in Wales. Life with his beloved elder sister Cis (Aimee Ffion-Edwards) would be alright, were it not for her coalminer husband, Elfed (Aneurin Barnard), who had no interest in letting him finish his schooling. However, his gifted literature teacher, who also delved in theatre and radio, somehow saw the potential that his sulky, wilful student had to be a great actor. And the rest is history. Philip Burton (Toby Jones) assumed guardianship of the young man, Richard Jenkins, who then adopted his name. Their mentoring relationship became as close as father and son, with Richard able to finish his schooling, consider a place at university, and make his way through rounds of auditions until he triumphed on stage in Shakespeare's Henry IV at Stratford-Upon-Avon in the early 1950s. It was a truly remarkable transformation. There had been so many obstacles to a life beyond Port Talbot, let alone to achieving international success on stage and screen. Richard was the 12th of 13 children, had lost his mother at the age of two and seemed destined to follow in the footsteps of his father, Dic (Steffan Rodhri), a pugnacious coal miner who spent his time outside the pits at the pub downing pints. How could young Richard imagine a future beyond the daily grind? The answer is, of course, through the arts. Mr Burton is a Welsh production. It is told as a period drama, modestly mounted with impeccable historical detail, effectively capturing the ambience of gloomy mid-century Welsh mining towns and the kind of characters that they produced. In this modest, well-meaning story directed by Marc Hyams and based on a screenplay written by Josh Hyams and Tom Bullough, we leave off at the start of Richard Burton's brilliant career. A little abruptly, perhaps, even though his life and career were soon to become public property. Before the final fade, there is no hint at all of the glamorous world in which he would become a famous player, critically acclaimed and able to command a huge fee for his Hollywood performances. And then there was the uniquely beautiful actor he married, twice, Elizabeth Taylor. What makes a great actor? It is always a question worth asking. Richard Burton's teacher had his work cut out. The accent would need modulating, and the anger and frustration would need tempering, but how did he come by that special something with which an actor makes a connection with audiences? his touching tale of success against the odds at least reveals the vulnerability that can lie behind mesmerising performance.
Sydney Morning Herald
5 days ago
- General
- Sydney Morning Herald
Teachers are the backbone of society. So why do so few people apply?
It is a sad indictment of the state of Australian teaching that universities are admitting students into education degrees with extremely low ATAR rankings, while high school graduates with the best HSC marks opt for high-status careers in actuarial studies, law and engineering. Universities Admissions Centre data for last year shows students admitted with ATARs as low as 51 at the University of Canberra, while at Charles Sturt, the University of Newcastle and Australian Catholic University, the lowest ATAR was in the 50s. Lowering entrance standards is one consequence of government policies forcing universities to desperately chase funds, but it also speaks to the continuing decline in teaching as a profession, which may be reflected in Australia's long-term slide in international academic league tables. Year 9 students are at least a full academic year behind equivalent Australian students in the 1990s. Teachers held respected and pivotal places in Australian suburbs and towns before we transitioned into an urban society, but the idea of an inspirational teacher as a career model never took root in popular culture, literature and film. Other countries had Goodbye Mr Chips, To Sir, With Love, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and Dead Poet's Society as inspiration, but Australia had a teacher who lost her students in Picnic at Hanging Rock and a teacher who lost himself in Wake in Fright. For many, the best thing going for teaching was once the long holidays and short hours. But those perks ebbed as the idea of teaching as a career fell from grace under increased classroom workloads, unruly students, dissatisfied vocal parents, red tape and ongoing union campaigns that highlighted the downsides of the role. Loading Some educators and policymakers have called for changes to revitalise the profession. Of course, public school enrolments in NSW have been dropping as Australians have grown more affluent and real cuts to government funding have eroded the public sector's ability to match the burgeoning private school sector. Nationally, there is a pressing teacher shortage, worsened by the fact that about half of the people who enrol in teaching degrees drop out. To stem the tide, the Minns government honoured pre-election promises and 11 months ago made NSW teachers Australia's highest paid. Under a four-year agreement with the NSW Teachers Federation to alleviate the teacher shortage, salaries rose for both beginners with ATARs of 80 and top-of-the-scale teachers by nearly $10,000 a year, while teachers in middle salary bands received increases of between 4 and 8 per cent. Despite the extra money and inducements, teaching is unlikely to turn into a glamour profession overnight. If it was once a calling, teaching as a career is now often an afterthought for students struggling with the HSC.
The Star
27-07-2025
- General
- The Star
Leaving a legacy
When we think of legacy, we often picture public figures, grand achievements or tangible monuments. Yet few legacies are as far-reaching or powerful as that of a dedicated educator. A single educator can ignite the spark of discovery in hundreds, even thousands, of students over a lifetime. And that spark does not end in the classroom; it creates a ripple effect, influencing careers, perspectives, and the lives of future generations. Those from the older generation will recall the film To Sir, with Love (1967), starring Sidney Poitier, which addressed a number of social, educational and emotional themes that remain relevant today. The teacher is portrayed not just as an instructor, but also as a moral compass, father figure and mentor, guiding students through issues of identity, relationships and future aspirations. As someone who is, first and foremost, a teacher at heart, I have always believed that the heart of education lies not just in knowledge but also in care – not just in expertise, but also in deep humanity. Human touch An educator with a true sense of humanity is one who is not only a scholar, but also a teacher in the truest sense of the word. Passionate, engaged and quietly transformative, they exemplify the kind of educator whose impact defies quantification. These lecturers do not just inform – they inspire. Their office hours are not just slots in a calendar, but spaces of mentorship and encouragement. They understand that students are not just vessels to be filled with information, but individuals to be nurtured, challenged and seen. It is easy to overlook such values in today's university environment. The language of 'outputs', 'deliverables' and 'efficiency' has crept into our discourse, even in places where human connection should matter most. In this context, passionate educators may seem out of step – too generous with their time, too invested in the well-being of students, too unconcerned with the competitive optics of academic life. And yet, to my mind, it is precisely these qualities that make such educators indispensable. Within the short span of a month, we mourn the passing of Dr Sagathevan Kuppusamy and David Chong, two academics at my institution whose absence leaves a deep void, not only in the faculties they served, but also in the lives they touched. Their departure is a solemn reminder of the profound role educators play in our collective story. Leading with heart As Khalil Gibran wrote in The Prophet, 'The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of their wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.' Some teachers embody this spirit. They do not impose their knowledge, but invite students to discover their own. They teach not just facts, but ways of seeing. They do not only answer questions, they help students ask better ones. In an era when education risks becoming depersonalised, I am reminded, through the lives of our late colleagues, that learning is – and always has been – a deeply human exchange. Good teaching, at its core, is relational. It is an act of trust, generosity, and belief in the potential of another. Passionate teachers bring more than knowledge to the classroom; they bring soul. They model curiosity, humility and perseverance. They help students believe in their own potential. They create spaces where learning is not transactional, but transformational. And often, they do all of this quietly, without seeking recognition – driven not by institutional reward, but by a deep-seated belief in the value of education itself. We would do well to remember this, and to reflect on what kind of teachers, colleagues and institutions we want to be. Passion in teaching is not old-fashioned, nor is it a luxury. It is foundational. It is what lingers long after students graduate. It is what shapes lives. Let the examples of our peers who have passed on guide us to be better learners, more compassionate educators and, above all, more thoughtful and caring individuals. Let us honour their legacy and commit ourselves to carrying forward the values they so gracefully lived by. Let us remember that teaching is not just a profession – it is a vocation, a quiet form of leadership that shapes the future, one student at a time. Let us create more inclusive, curious and courageous spaces of learning. Let us honour them by teaching others as they taught us – with patience, passion and, above all, with heart. May their legacy never fade. And may every life they touched continue to shine, carrying their light forward. Prof Datuk Dr Elizabeth Lee is the chief executive officer at Sunway Education Group. A veteran in the field of private higher education, Prof Lee is also an advocate for women in leadership. She has been recognised both locally and internationally for her contributions to the field of education. The views expressed here are the writer's own.
Wales Online
20-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Wales Online
Lulu says new memoir felt ‘intense' as she opens up about going to therapy
Lulu says new memoir felt 'intense' as she opens up about going to therapy The 76-year-old was discussing the importance of mental health support ahead of a sponsored walk for her new charitable fund, Lulu's Mental Health Trust (Image: ITV ) Scottish singer Lulu said the process of completing her new memoir has been "so intense" that she "had to go into therapy". The 76-year-old was discussing the importance of mental health support ahead of a sponsored walk for her new charitable fund, Lulu's Mental Health Trust. She told the PA news agency: "I've just completed writing my memoir, or an autobiography, whatever you want to call it, and it's been fairly intense, because I am 76 and being in the public eye, there's a lot of things I have not divulged. "There's a lot of things I didn't feel comfortable talking about because, as a human being, I've had trials, I've had tribulations, I've had issues." Her new memoir, If Only You Knew, delves into her past and the singer, born Marie McDonald McLaughlin Lawrie and also known as Lulu Kennedy-Cairns, said it has felt "very cathartic". "There are things you don't know, and I'm going to talk about them, and it's really in order to help, but it's been very cathartic", she said. Article continues below "It is in order to maybe help someone else who's had a similar issue and they haven't dealt with it, or don't know how to, and I felt very alone in my head all my life, because I think I've been brought up to keep a lot of things secretive and keep it to myself, but that was my mother's (era) age. "Today, things are more open, and if it can help, if you can relate to someone, it doesn't make you feel so alone. So that's part of the reason for doing the book. "The other part is, I'm 76, I might not last much longer, and I've got grandchildren, and it's all documented, but it's been very cathartic for me. "In fact, I had to go into therapy because it's been so intense. When you've kept stuff down, they (emotions) lodge in you. They lodge in your body somewhere. "And sometimes they can affect your physical health, definitely your mental health. But to try and get them (those feelings) to come up, it's been intense." The music artist from Glasgow said she wanted to establish a mental heath trust as she and her family have experienced their own mental health issues. On Monday, in aid of the trust, Lulu walked from the east London location where she filmed To Sir, With Love and finished at the old Decca Studios, where she recorded Shout – the song that saw her storm into the UK charts 60 years ago. She has so far raised more than £15,000 for the cause through people sponsoring her for the walk. The singer performed at Glastonbury Festival last year and embarked on her sell-out Champagne for Lulu tour, which she said was her last. Article continues below Her memoir is due to be released on September 25 2025. She will embark on a UK book tour four days later.
Leader Live
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Leader Live
Lulu says new memoir felt ‘intense' as she opens up about going to therapy
The 76-year-old was discussing the importance of mental health support ahead of a sponsored walk for her new charitable fund, Lulu's Mental Health Trust. She told the PA news agency: 'I've just completed writing my memoir, or an autobiography, whatever you want to call it, and it's been fairly intense, because I am 76 and being in the public eye, there's a lot of things I have not divulged. 'There's a lot of things I didn't feel comfortable talking about because, as a human being, I've had trials, I've had tribulations, I've had issues.' Her new memoir, If Only You Knew, delves into her past and the singer, born Marie McDonald McLaughlin Lawrie and also known as Lulu Kennedy-Cairns, said it has felt 'very cathartic'. 'There are things you don't know, and I'm going to talk about them, and it's really in order to help, but it's been very cathartic', she said. 'It is in order to maybe help someone else who's had a similar issue and they haven't dealt with it, or don't know how to, and I felt very alone in my head all my life, because I think I've been brought up to keep a lot of things secretive and keep it to myself, but that was my mother's (era) age. 'Today, things are more open, and if it can help, if you can relate to someone, it doesn't make you feel so alone. So that's part of the reason for doing the book. 'The other part is, I'm 76, I might not last much longer, and I've got grandchildren, and it's all documented, but it's been very cathartic for me. 'In fact, I had to go into therapy because it's been so intense. When you've kept stuff down, they (emotions) lodge in you. They lodge in your body somewhere. 'And sometimes they can affect your physical health, definitely your mental health. But to try and get them (those feelings) to come up, it's been intense.' The music artist from Glasgow said she wanted to establish a mental heath trust as she and her family have experienced their own mental health issues. On Monday, in aid of the trust, Lulu walked from the east London location where she filmed To Sir, With Love and finished at the old Decca Studios, where she recorded Shout – the song that saw her storm into the UK charts 60 years ago. She has so far raised more than £15,000 for the cause through people sponsoring her for the walk. The singer performed at Glastonbury Festival last year and embarked on her sell-out Champagne for Lulu tour, which she said was her last. Her memoir is due to be released on September 25 2025. She will embark on a UK book tour four days later.
