Graduation Ceremony 1
Graduand’s Address
Monday 19 November 2012 at 1630hrs
JESUITS’ CHURCH – VALLETTA
Rachael Agius
Ph.D. graduand and representative of the students
The research roller coaster
Last week I completed a course on ‘Delivering Successful Presentations’. I learnt that
there are a number of things a speaker should NOT do during a presentation. One of them
is to avoid reading the presentation….
I clearly started on the wrong foot.
Good afternoon. My name is Rachael and I am a Speech and Language Pathologist. I
work with children and adults who have difficulty communicating. This includes
difficulties such as autism, stroke, dyslexia, stammering, voice disorders etc. I obviously
need a Speech-Language Pathologist myself.
On a personal note, I really would like to thank a few people and especially my family
who tolerated my extreme mood swings during the course of my research.
Firstly, I thank my supervisor for her perseverance and my sleepless nights. My sincere
apologies go to the stationers who printed my manuscript... for also inflicting upon them
sleepless nights. My dear husband, thank you for choosing not to divorce me despite the
pro-divorce movement. My two year old daughter, thank you for filling my life, and all
my time. So that by the time I needed to get back to the books at night I was utterly
exhausted. My friends, thank you for striking me off your social calendar because I
always turned you down. My dear mother. Thank you for kidnapping my daughter,
feeding my husband and locking me in a room so that I could get this done.
Last but not least I would like to thank the University for giving me this opportunity to
share my thoughts today. I chose to deliver this speech because I owe it to the University
after their long standing support of my research and because I owe it to my clients.
Did you know that the number one fear of a person with a communication disorder is
giving presentations and speaking before a group of people? Take for example, the adult
with dyslexia who must present a work report to his colleagues. A 13 year old stutterer
who throws up at the thought of an impending oral exam. A child who looks at the board
and pretends to copy because he cannot decipher what his teacher has written. How
could I turn down this challenge when every week I tell these very clients that they
should overcome their fear? During therapy, they are all given tips on how to
communicate more efficiently in a way that might boost their confidence and diminish
their fears. How could I turn down this moment of fear when I am the one to urge them
to move forward? I take this opportunity to fully appreciate what these individuals
experience on a daily basis. I took on this challenge because I owe it to them. I am here
today for them and because of them.
I am also here for each and every one of you. I owe it to you and I owe it to the
University. It is pay back time.
16 years ago (1996) I was studying to become a Communication Therapist. As part of
the undergraduate studies, I learnt about a condition called Dyslexia. I thought the topic
was less challenging than others and the way in which it was delivered more so.
13 years ago (1999) I graduated and entered the workforce believing I would change the
world. A few months later, and still waiting for the world to change, my mother packed
me off to America. I was given the opportunity to work as a Special Education teacher
within the State school system in North Carolina. I boarded that plane thinking, ‘ooh
now I can change America too!’ But when I got there, the administration realised that I
did not quite fulfil the requirements of a Special Ed teacher. So they re-organised my
work placement by offering me a different post. Either that or I was to be sent back
home. I was to be the ‘specialist’ in charge of the entire primary sector at this particular
state school. And to my horror, I was to be the literacy specialist!
I spent the first few months working through the system at Broadway Elementary.
Sounds great doesn’t it? Maltese girl goes to Hollywood. Well, this town was surrounded
by tobacco fields, pick-up trucks and fast food. There was one bar, no university (and
hence no young people), lots of beer, gangs and guns. Those of you who are 35 and
older, picture Laura Ingalls in The House on the Prairie. Those of you who are younger,
picture Michelle Pfeiffer in Gangster’s Paradise.
I had no choice but to take my work seriously. Just working with those children
inevitably led me to love the area of literacy. I worked with children from various
linguistic and cultural backgrounds, mainly Latin and African-Americans. It was those
children who taught me to love diversity and literacy... and not the other way around. It
was because of those children that I felt there was something amiss. I needed to give
more. Despite the fact that I had a Bachelors degree, I was not allowed to work as a
Speech and Language Pathologist because I needed a Master’s degree. So when my
students were awarded first class in literacy in the entire county, I packed my bags and
moved to London to get my Masters degree.
I left the States one year prematurely and 20 kilos overweight….and I am not referring to
my luggage. It was the year before Malta joined the EU. I took two loans to get through
my studies. The power of motivation. The power that research has over each and every
one of us. In London I met a remarkable Greek woman who helped me develop my
research in the area of literacy in a bilingual context. She was a tough supervisor. I used
to leave her room with a lump in my throat because I thought I wasn’t capable of doing
research at that level. She pushed me to the limit and beyond and encouraged me to
publish my research well beyond my graduation. I returned to the working world and left
my research in a file somewhere to collect dust. I still get that lump in my throat. She
passed away. That was when I found myself barging back into the research world,
working on publications and participating in a series of seminars all over the world. The
power of the supervisor.
A couple of years later, the world remained unchanged. I was asked by the University of
Malta to deliver the module on written language disorders to the undergraduate students.
There was no way I was going to teach the topic in the same way I had learned it. So I
begin my lectures with this story: how much I disliked the area of literacy and how I
found myself engulfed in it just by an ironic twist of fate. I came to realise that a lot of
the assessment tools that were being used to assess these children were old and outdated.
I was horrified! To add insult to injury, these children were being tested in a language
that was not their first language. I started to wonder about those children who were being
misdiagnosed or those who were not being diagnosed at all!
One day, I was in the Communication Therapy office at the Institute of Health Care. In
that room, there was the course coordinator and a visiting lecturer with her. They both
encouraged me to start a Ph.D. At the time, I wasn’t even sure what Ph.D. stood for. But
I do remember her words: Rachael, decide. It is either a Ph.D. or marriage. Well, since
marriage involves a union of two persons and at that point in my life the second person
was nowhere to be seen I decided to take the plunge.
…..
I would like you to picture the ‘Splash and Fun’ park at Baħar iċ-Ċaghaq. This is the
start of your research journey. Visualise a park triple its size. You are standing at the
bottom of the structure looking up at its sheer enormity and complexity. There are
countless possibilities. Where do you start? So you climb up the aluminium stairs one at
a time, all the time asking yourself: What on earth am I doing? You know that you can
still turn back. But your legs are on autopilot and they push on.
You get to the top. The wind is whistling in your ears. Perhaps you hear voices inside
your head warning you, encouraging you, teasing you. You might consider visiting a
psychiatrist at this point... You look around you and absorb the view. There’s so much
to see. So much to read. So much to learn. You edge forward in the queue and suddenly
you must decide on which slide to take, your research area. It must be focussed and
specific. You sift through your colourful methodologies. There are long and slow rides,
short and quick ones.. curvy ones. You finally settle on one particular slide and you sit
down in the mouth of the chute. Your legs are resting on the plastic downward spiral.
Your hands are clutching the sides of the chute. You don’t know where to look. You do
know that there is no turning back. Down below, you can see where this will take you.
Your final objective. There are so many curves you are not sure if you will arrive safely,
unharmed. Others have done it before you. Still others are waiting for you to get on with
it. You can feel your tension. The expectations of onlookers are almost tangible.
You gently scoot forward. Perhaps tweaking and fine tuning your ‘tools’ before shooting
forward. You feel warm water around your thighs rushing ahead of you and down the
chute. You hear voices behind you encouraging you to move ahead. Or perhaps
swearing at you to get on with it. And without further ado: you push yourself forward.
And what follows is a flood of insecurities. What did I do? Why did I do it? What will
they think? How will I get there? Who is going to help me?
Leaps and bounds.
Highs and lows.
As you slide down the chute, you experience a whirlwind of emotions: fear, excitement,
anger, elation, frustration, desperation. You pick up all the -ations in the Oxford
Dictionary. Your journey is long. The passage very narrow. There is no space for a
social life. You are alone. The ground is getting closer and closer. Will I arrive? Will I
hurt? Will I make it?
You get to the bottom of the slide and whoossshhh! Out you fly into the air and
SPLASH. You land in a large pool of water. You have finished your research, defended
it successfully, submitted your manuscript and whoosshh! It’s over. You are wet and
alone. What an anticlimax.
You step out of the water and look back at what just happened.
The metal structure that is holding up and supporting your journey the entire way.
That is University.
The water that was thrown down the slide to make the passage smoother.
That is your family.
The pool you landed in.
The world of research.
The splash you made.
Your achievement. Your mother’s achievement. Your father’s achievement. Your
boyfriend or girlfriend’s achievement. University’s achievement.
Your journey is a very personal one. Each and every one of you had their own
'rollercoaster' ride. You had your own personal reasons for taking that ride. But we all
have one thing in common. Whatever the reason, we took the plunge… and we made it.
Was the ride fun? Perhaps not. It certainly was lonely. Or you thought it was. Now I
invite you to consider going down that slide again.. and again… and again… and inviting
your friends to do research so we can turn our little splashes in one big tidal wave!