You’re simply the best: educating desire

You’re simply the best, better than all the rest…”

In this reflection, we continue on from the discussions about the importance of feelings and look at the implications of Dr Chris Sarra’s work on Informed Desire as outlined in his doctoral thesis [1] and his autobiography [2].

Utopian Thought

In his thesis, (p.39), Sarra says:

Power and knowledge are related, but knowledge cannot be reduced to power. However, for freedom or emancipation to be possible we must have, as Bhaskar points out, ‘informed desire’. It is the knowledge of the power relations that oppress them that will enable Australian Aborigines to be free (Bhaskar, 1993: 169). It is just this relationship between knowledge and freedom that I attempted to capture in the ‘strong and smart’ philosophy.

Sarra explains that, as a principal, he wanted to enable Aboriginal children to confront the negative perceptions they were colluding with and guide them to see themselves as embodying a positive paradigm of being Aboriginal. These positive perceptions constitute what Bhaskar (1993) terms ‘informed desire.’ This alternative Aboriginal identity is what Sarra describes as the ‘strong and smart’ Aboriginal identity.

Understanding Sarra as a Utopian thinker who can imagine a better world, is one of the keys to fully grasping the complexity and the importance of the Stronger Smarter Approach.

After World War 2, there was a tendency for Utopian thought to give way to the feeling that a better world is not possible and if one tries to build a better world things will end up worse. George Orwell’s anti-Utopian novel Animal Farm is maybe the most famous example of this belief. What gave Utopias a bad name was the tendency to make them blue prints for an ideal society. But often the blue print seemed to restrict human freedom.

However, the French philosopher Miguel Abensour (1939-2017) defended Utopian thought and argued that the way forward out of the blue print trap was to educate desire. He wrote

The point is not for utopia …. to assign ‘true’ or ‘just’ goals to desire but rather to educate desire, to stimulate it, to awaken it – not to assign it a goal but to open a path for it…. Desire must be taught to desire, to desire better, to desire more, and above all to desire otherwise; it must learn to shatter the dead weight, to alleviate the weakness of appetence, to liberate the firebirds of desire, to give free reign to the impulse of adventure. (Abensour 1999: 145–146)

The core idea is that desire has to be encouraged and educated. As educators, we are helping out students to desire success, to desire to get a good education and to be the best they can possibly be.

As in Abensour’s vision of Utopia, this is about opening up possibilities. It’s about helping students see themselves as capable, valued, and powerful contributors to their communities and the world. When we educate desire in this way, we’re not just teaching—we’re transforming.

When Desire is Missing: The Impact of Low Expectations.

However, as Sarra found at Cherbourg, there is the problem that our students may not feel that a good education is for them. They may have interiorised the low expectations that tell them that a good education is not for them and that this is as good as it gets.

This excerpt from his doctoral thesis (Sarra, 2011, p.11) describes how Sarra encountered a young student who accused him of wanting to create a white fella school in Cherbourg.

In the first few weeks as principal at Cherbourg State School I was dissatisfied with the lack of urgency of children getting to class after the bell rang. In response I instigated a very simple process whereby there would be two bells to indicate the resumption of class. The first bell would be a warning and by the time the second bell rang I expected every child to be in class and ready to learn. After several days with this arrangement, one student who had been away for several days asked me why there were two bells before class time. I explained the purpose to him. Interestingly he responded by saying with a tone of displeasure ‘You’re trying to run this school like a white school.’ Somewhere in his mind he had established that even characteristics like getting to class on time was ‘a white thing’, and taking your time and getting to class late was somehow ‘an Aboriginal thing’.

Sarra explains that this demonstrates the key underpinning of his research and the ‘strong and smart’ Aboriginal identity. He argues that these notions are the product of the low expectations and negative perceptions created by the settler colonists. When students internalise low expectations, they stop believing that success is for them. They stop desiring a better future.

Sarra argues that schools are a great place in which to challenge young Indigenous children’s beliefs about being Aboriginal, and to ensure an Aboriginal identity where children can aspire upwards to do anything they choose.

Low Expectations in Action

In his autobiography, Sarra recalls meeting a teacher who couldn’t believe he was a qualified guidance officer — and Aboriginal. She expected someone less qualified, someone who fitted with her stereotype.

After a year of studying I headed north to Cairns where I worked in several schools…I like to think I was pretty good at being a career and guidance counsellor. The idea of being a champion for students was incredibly meaningful and I took it upon myself to advocate strongly for Aboriginal and Torres Strait islander students. My first few days at … would signal just how important this was.

To make myself known to my new colleagues I went around to staffrooms to touch base and say, ‘hi’. On the whole they were a great bunch of teachers. I did find the conversation with one of them a bit disturbing, though. This young female teacher had sized me up before I could say, ‘High Expectations’.

‘G’day…Are you the new CEC?’ CEC stands for Community Education Counsellor, and these positions are usually Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander para-professionals who are located in schools to support Indigenous children.

‘No. I’m the new guidance officer, ‘I replied, not knowing how this would go down.

‘Oh!’ she said in a very surprised tone and look. ‘So, you’re like a … “real guidance officer?’

‘Yes, Yes, I am!’ I said, doing my best to let my facial expression say, You’ve no idea just how offensive you are being right now! Not that she would have realized.

‘So…you’ve been a teacher?’ she said, as though she was not quite convinced.

‘Yes I’m a PE and English Teacher.’ I said, while thinking silently, ‘and I have competed my Masters in Education, so I am more academically qualified than you…and I get paid almost double your salary.’ I would have liked to have said that last bit out loud but it was one of those situations of avoiding being pegged as a smart arse or a blackfullas with some kind of chip on his shoulder. It is not always easy to bite your tongue in these circumstances. It takes a great deal of strength to react in a way that is dignified and measured. I contemplated with some frustration the futility of trying to get her to understand just how insulting her comments were. Something wasn’t just right for her. Here was an Aboriginal guy and he was a guidance officer, who had been a teacher. If I had been a less-qualified CEC she would have made sense of that…

The most disturbing thing about this particular circumstance was that there were many young black students in the school. If she struggled to see someone like me as a guidance officer, then how was she going to see any of her black students as anything beyond the stifled and negative stereotypes she had?

There is no doubting the feeling behind this. However, we also need to grasp the significance of the encounter. It tells of a clash of expectations. The teacher was not prepared for a professional high-expectations relationship with someone who she had trouble believing could be both a guidance officer and a First Nations person.

The Stronger Smarter Approach encourages deep self-reflection to ensure we are not colluding with low expectations. However, we need to go beyond that to understand the internalised low expectations our students may hold for themselves. The Stronger Smarter Approach says to students: Yes, you can desire more. You can expect more. You deserve more. We all want our students to believe they’re capable, worthy, and full of potential. For students, or for anyone, confronting internalised low expectations is not easy. It takes strength and maturity. To help our students challenge stereotypes and open up possibilities, we need to support them to educate desire.

So What Can Teachers Do?

• Educate desire — help students want more for themselves. Are we helping students see futures they can believe in? Are we showing them that success doesn’t mean leaving culture behind, but carrying it forward with pride?
• Believe in students — do our policies, our language, and our expectations reflect deep belief in our students’ potential?
• Challenge low expectations — even the subtle ones. Low expectations often hide in everyday routines: who gets called on, who gets leadership roles, who’s voice is heard. Let’s ask ourselves: Where are the quiet signals that say, “this is not for you”? And then ask: how can we shift them?

Coming in 2026: This is the last blog for 2025.  Keep a watch out for our new blog series coming in 2026.

2026 Program Calendar:  Our 2026 Program Calendar is now available.  

Stronger Smarter Together: Reimagining Sovereignty:  Join us in 2026 as we celebrate 21 years of the Stronger Smarter Institute and imagine an Australia where equity and excellence walk side by side.

7–8 May 2026, Rydges South Bank, Brisbane

This national summit will bring together educators, leaders, and change-makers to explore a new form of sovereignty — one built on respect, courage, and high-expectations relationships.

More information coming soon.

[1] Sarra, C. (2008). Strong and Smart – Towards a Pedagogy for Emancipation. Education for first peoples. Routledge.

[2] Sarra, C. (2022). Good Morning, Mr Sarra: My life working for a stronger, smarter future for our children (new edition). University of Queensland Press.