Seeing the people: Vincent Feeney OAM’s legacy of service to Catholic education

In the recent Australia Day Honours, one of the recipients of the Order of Australia Medal (OAM) for his service to secondary education was Mr Vincent Feeney, principal at St Francis Xavier College, Berwick, Officer and Beaconsfield.

Aside from a brief five-year stint in Ararat, Mr Feeney and his family have lived in ‘the hills’ for over 70 years, from the time his parents moved into ‘Upper Gully’ and purchased a chook farm. There is something about the hills, its peaceful ambience, its ‘magic’, that has kept the Feeneys close by ever since.

He has served in leadership roles within Catholic education for 40 years this year. While he began his teaching career as a ‘young, enthusiastic and idealistic’ drama teacher, the roots of his openness to Catholic education go back to his parents.

‘My mother and father were very active members of their parish, St John the Baptist at Ferntree Gully,’ he explains. With 10 children, they needed more than one job, so his father got cleaning jobs at their local parishes and schools. ‘The notion of service, of community effort as being the thing which made Catholic schools possible and accessible, was just something you grew up with, and I certainly did.’

Initially he studied English literature at Monash University, but after reading Shakespeare and experiencing a desire to see plays like these come to life, he transferred to a drama course at Rusden State College, which would later become part of Deakin University. He thinks this move was indicative of a very hands-on approach to learning that would shape the overall trajectory of his teaching career.

Teaching just seemed to be a way to be true to myself and comfortable in my own skin.

Although teaching was something he ‘fell into’ in some ways, it was also something that stuck when many of his fellow students gave up on it.

‘It just seemed to be a way to be true to myself and comfortable in my own skin,’ he says. Laughing, he admits it was something of a rocky start. He recalls that in one of his first lessons as a teacher, he played ‘Simon says’ with the class as an icebreaker. One of the kids offered to go first, but when the student shouted, ‘Simon says … run!’, they all stormed out of the demountable and the rookie teacher spent the rest of the afternoon finding them again.

His experience within Catholic education has included some notable and formative moments. His first leadership position was as a year level coordinator for Year 9 boys, and at that time he worked a lot with the Salesians. Their spirituality and approach to education were eye-opening.

‘The notion there was that you invest time out in the yard [playing sports], building a relationship, building connection, and then, when you’re in the classroom, you draw on that connection,’ he explains. ‘Learning is relational.’

In the same way that it hadn’t been enough simply to study Shakespeare—he’d had to perform it to really connect with it—he realised that education was about more than just rote learning.

‘There was a time when all the institutions that worked with youth, and maybe still some today, thought that being repressive was the way to go, that you’ve got to keep the lid on these kids. Don Bosco’s method used a lot more expressive approaches, allowing the kids to blossom.’

You are responsible for the architecture of a school experience, but don’t forget the people. It’s also about the people.

A driving question for Mr Feeney has since focused not just on how to shape young minds and hearts, but on ‘how to shape a whole school experience so that it benefits young people’.

Another formative experience for him was turning up late to work one day while at a school in Elsternwick. The Dandenongs were flooding, and he had struggled to make the trek from Ferntree Gully to Elsternwick in time. It was one of the religious sisters at the school who put things in perspective.

After finally making it, he began apologising profusely, only for the sister for say, ‘It’s alright. Everybody’s allowed to make at least one mistake a day.’

During his time in Ararat, another religious sister said to him, ‘Schools must have rules. But for every rule there must be an exception.’

‘I think what really spoke to me in both those cases was: see the people,’ he explains. ‘You are responsible for the architecture of a school experience, but don’t forget the people. It’s also about the people.

It’s not about ranking, it’s not about justifying fees, it’s not about getting good news stories. It’s about the fact that you’ve got all these young people, ready for growth, who’ve been gifted by God with these talents, and the vocation you’ve accepted is to honour God by growing these people.

This attitude also infuses his understanding of Catholic education as a whole. It’s easy to fall into the trap of talking about ‘Christian values’ in a cheap way, but he believes that ‘Catholic Social Teaching is far more sophisticated’ as a system. More than simply saying, ‘I’m kind to you,’ it is, at its heart, an invitation to fall in love with Jesus Christ.

‘One of the difficulties we’ve got is how we conceptualise evangelisation,’ he says. ‘If we go back to the early church, we saw that those people, the disciples, they fell in love with the message and person of Jesus.’

One of the unique contributions a Catholic education makes to society is a conviction that the pursuit of excellence in all areas of life glorifies God. But this conviction must follow from the initial falling in love with Jesus, he believes.

‘The whole notion of Catholic education and striving for excellence is not about ranking, it’s not about justifying fees, it’s not about getting good news stories. It’s about the fact that you’ve got all these young people, ready for growth, who’ve been gifted by God with these talents, and the vocation you’ve accepted is to honour God by growing these people,’ he says.

The news that he was being considered for an OAM was a great surprise. A colleague of his first nominated him three years ago, and in the lead-up to the announcements, he was waiting nervously in the knowledge that any day it could be him.

‘I think the loveliest thing was telling my kids,’ he says. ‘I didn’t tell anyone. I let my wife do that.’

But Mr Feeney also recognises how significant this award would have been for his parents. ‘Mum and Dad died a while ago. But you know, this recognition ... would have meant something given the family story within Catholic education … It’s just a great way to honour your parents, to dedicate yourself, in your own way, to the things that matter, that they taught you had value.’