It’s rare, in this kind of work, to stop. There’s always the next intake, the next funding round, the next individual needing support. So when a room full of people paused together at Bramleigh Estate in June to mark fifty years of Cire at the Gala Ball, they saw the quiet and passionate work of countless individuals made visible.
The room itself told part of the story. Staff stood next to donors, who stood next to sponsors, who stood next to family members who’d flown in for the weekend. Dave O’Neil had everyone laughing early, the kind of loose, easy laughter you hear before everyone tears up at the impact stories.
Then Julian Carle (Cire’s Chair of the Board) spoke, and the tone shifted with him. Around the room, heads nodded, not politely, but with recognition. Everyone at the Gala Ball has been touched by something Cire works to address, whether it’s dementia, disadvantage, disengagement or disconnection.
“We create opportunities for people to re-engage in education, especially those who may have had negative experiences in the past. And in doing so, we provide something incredibly powerful: hope, opportunity, and a pathway to the future.”
Building hope
Later that evening, Tom Brunzell, Associate Professor at the University of Melbourne and a leading voice in trauma-informed education, elaborated on Julian’s message. He spoke about psychological capital, the research behind what helps people and organisations keep going when things are hard. Hope, he said, isn’t something people simply have or lack. It’s something built, often slowly, and often by other people first.
He gave the room a number to sit with. A resting heart rate usually falls somewhere between 70 and 90 beats per minute. For many of Cire Community School’s students, the resting heart rate sits closer to 150. Their bodies are constantly on alert, even long after danger has passed. They haven’t yet learned to bring themselves back down, so someone else has to help, again and again, until they can do it for themselves.
Around the room, you could feel people arrive at the same thought at once. Of course that’s what it takes. Not the job description, but the years of small, steady effort behind it, mostly undocumented, rarely counted in a report. It’s the same effort that started Cire fifty years ago, when the first volunteers turned up to help without much more than the knowledge that their work was needed, and would matter to their community. The people at the Gala Ball understand that the efforts are what sustain the hope that we can share with our students, families, and community members. It was a moment worth pausing for, even for just one night.
Ultimately, the Gala Ball was a celebration. There was an auction, there was dancing, there were the amazing Smoking Figs encouraging us to live in the moment. Stepping back is worthwhile for any organisation, taking the time to reflect, celebrate the wins and acknowledge the invisible effort. It’s part of what makes the pausing worthwhile in the first place, and why a room full of people who care deeply about hard things can also, on the right night, just have fun.
Looking forward
“We often focus on the individual in front of us. Seeing potential that may have been hidden or lost. We help remove that sense of uncertainty and open up a new horizon, not only by listening with empathy and understanding, but by providing clear pathways for people to create their own journey.”
Fifty years in, that’s still the work: helping someone build a path they couldn’t picture on their own. The need continues to grow. More people are looking for a way back into education, demand for alternative school continues to rise, and individuals need more varied pathway options to achieve their goals.
But alongside the weight of a growing need, there was hope in the room. From a neighbourhood house to an organisation delivering education opportunities for all ages across multiple regions, fifty years has given Cire a solid foundation. And with a rare chance to take a breath and reflect, the people at the heart of Cire are already building on it.
We’d love to hear your Cire story from any point in the last 50 years. Share it with us at [email protected].
