This is the second Apology given on behalf of the nation by the current Australian prime minister in a space of 18 months or so.  As some would argue, at least such acts evince a sense of concern and compassion for those harmed - many seriously and irrevocably - by actions of previous governments.  Such concern (or, at least, its public expression) hasn't been a feature of prior Australian governing parties.  What is intriguing with this current apology to the "Forgotten Australians" - children who were institutionalised (orphanages, church homes, foster care, etc) between 1930 and 1970 and many of whom suffered physical and emotional abuse whilst in "care" -  is that  there is a contemplation of the payment of financial reparations to the victims of these policies.  The editor of my local and very conservative newspaper (The Toowoomba Chronicle)  has asked the question "Is an apology enough?" in today's editorial.  Further, he  goes on to say:
"If an apology is appropriate after all this time, should financial compensation also be on the table?  Many would argue that it is entirely appropriate"
What a difference a victim group makes!  
When the government announced its intention to apologise on behalf of the Australian nation to Indigenous Australians ("The Stolen Generations") last year, the very same commentators were almost apoplectic at the thought, and one of the main reasons for their opposition to such an apology was that the victims might then have a legal  basis for a claim of compensation! 
Perhaps it's the Stolen Generation who are truly the Forgotten Australians!
Jon
 

The discussion in class got me thinking about all those movies idealizing teachers, and a comment by Laurent Cantet, the director of the movie “the class” http://movies.nytimes.com/2008/09/26/movies/26clas.html . Cantet said that movies about the classroom aren’t made because they’re boring. He suggested that most of the movies that we see about schools and teachers are about conflicts occurring around the characters of the classroom rather than in the classroom. Maybe is true, maybe it is boring, as a rule, however, Cantet himself and Francois Begaudeau managed to do a compelling, and realistic film using only the structure of the classroom.
“The classroom” is a movie about an inner-city classroom, based on the novel by co-screenwriter, lead actor and real life teacher Francois Begaudeau, The Class unfolds over the course of a term at a secondary school in Paris. Begaudeau plays a language and literature teacher who tries to foster an atmosphere of respect and diligence in his multiethnic class of opinionated teenagers while negotiating respect and mutual trust. The screenplay was written by the actual teacher (Begaudeau) in a critical autobiographic look at his own performance as a teacher to a class, filmed with real students from mixed background and from a tough Parisian neighborhood, the story looks at how reality and best intentions collide.
I watched the movie a while ago with my children aged 14 and 12, with whom I had to work hard to convince to watch the movie (in the beginning) but they got so into it that we ended up having the most interesting discussion after watching the movie. This movie would certainly be a good teaching tool.
Follow the link to watch the trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUzKu51bY04

               Janet Bavelas (2004) writes in her critical analysis of the various (non)apologies given by Canadian churches to First Nations people for the legacy of residential schools:
 
“What is the magic formula? What makes an utterance a true apology?
For the answer, we can return to linguistics, specifically to Coulmas’s (1981) distinction between sympathy and apology. Both of these speech acts start with ‘I’m sorry’ (or the equivalent), but an apology must also include a statement of responsibility. If someone says ‘I’m sorry that you were fired,’ ‘had an accident,’ or ‘are feeling bad,’ he or she is expressing sympathy. But if the speaker is the one who did the firing, caused the accident, or made the person feel bad, then that phrasing is inappropriate because it is only sympathy, not an apology. For a true apology, the offender would have to take responsibility for the hurtful act, naming him- or herself as the agent of the offense and describing equally clearly what he or she did. Anything else is what I will call here a non-apology.”
 
            Her conclusion, after a lengthy grammatical analysis of the use of passive tense and linking verbs to syntactically mask the subject of each sentence, is that the majority of church apologies fall under the banner of non-apology for their stubborn refusal to take the burden of responsibility upon themselves. That is, churches express sympathy but rarely ownership over the current state of affairs. For example, the United Church (1998) phrases a portion of their apology to First Nations people in a typically evasive manner: “You were and are the victims of evil actsthat cannot under any circumstances be justified or excused.” Evil acts committed by whom? Why dodge this bullet when the churches are already coming out with statements of grief over past wrongs? Bavelas makes it clear that the rationale is varied, but likely the final product of their fear of legal culpability and financial liability. They’ll pray, but not pay.
 
            Cast your mind back to the various public apologies doled out by prime ministers, presidents and Popes as of late. How many of these constitute non-apologies in their phrasing? Furthermore, given the evasive nature of the bulk of these acts of contrition, is it any wonder that some wronged groups refuse to accept the apologies and “move on.” The cry of the oppressed, it would seem, would be that there is no absolution with confession. 
 
            What follows from this legitimate refusal to accept the (non)apology is an indignant reaction on the part of the apologizers. They ask, shouldn’t an apology by met with forgiveness? This stance is two-fold: first, it distorts the ideal of freely-conferred forgiveness (if forgiving someone is simply a consequence of an apology, it weakens the strength of the forgiveness) and secondly, it implies that the apology was satisfactory. Even in the wake of a bonafide apology, forgiveness is not guaranteed. More pertinent to our discussion, in the wake of a non-apology, forgiveness should not be expected.
 
             “I’m sorry” is not the magic word. 
 
            When I was six, I pushed by friend Scott Thomson on the playground because he took my place in the line for the water fountain. I was angry and he, in turn, was sad that I had pushed him. Tears ensued and soon the teacher was on the scene to provide a solution. With the back of my shirt tight in my teacher’s grip, I stood in front of a crying Scott and issued what was the most transparent apology of my life. I looked at his shoes, heaved an extra sigh and hushed a sardonic “I’m sorry” under my breath.  The grip relaxed and I turned to the teacher with a grin on my face that said, “See, I’ve done what I needed to. It’s all better now.” She walked away satisfied. Scott, strangely, did not walk away satisfied. He continued to cry and ran off to a corner of the playground where I couldn’t hurt his feelings any more.
 
            But I said I was sorry. 
 
            What kind of person wouldn’t forgive me after that?