On the rain-soaked gravel airstrip of Waṉḏawuy, deep in the heart of Arnhem Land, a small plane taxis to a stop. Inside, Lana Pearse gathers her teaching materials, ready to step into a remote schoolhouse where the whiteboards are framed by bushland and the lessons blend modern pedagogy with traditional Yolŋu knowledge.
“I couldn’t get to work without MAF,” she says. “They’re not just our transport; they’re a big part of the extended family.”
In the far-flung homelands of the Northern Territory, where roads often vanish in the Wet and mobile phone service is patchy or absent, the Community-Based Aboriginal Teacher Education (C-BATE) program is empowering Indigenous educators to gain formal qualifications without having to leave their land, language, or culture behind.
The program, delivered in partnership with Queensland Technical and Further Education (TAFE) and supported by the Cotton On Foundation, enables aspiring Homeland Centre Teachers to study remotely, balancing hands-on teaching in their local schools with distance education coursework. The goal is to train teachers where they live, on country, surrounded by their culture.
“C-BATE is a program where we help teachers study out in community, so we go to them,” said Lyv Knee, C-BATE Coordinator for the Laynhapuy Homelands School.
“Ultimately, our goal is for the teachers to run the schools and not need us anymore.”
That aspiration, to become unnecessary, is not a retreat but a triumph. The C-BATE model values the traditional knowledge Aboriginal educators already hold.
“We’re working on a Certificate III at the moment, and I’m looking for ways to recognise what the teachers know already in their culture,” Lyv said.
I couldn’t get to work without MAF; they’re not just our transport; they’re a big part of the extended family.
In the Waṉḏawuy homeland community, Lana works with two Homeland Centre Teachers who already lead classrooms on Mondays and Fridays. Once a week, Lana flies in to guide them through their TAFE units in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education, and a Visiting Teacher takes the class to allow the student teachers to study.
“I’m really excited at the opportunity to give back a little bit into the homelands and to the Yolŋu people who have so humbly welcomed me and had me for nine years as a teacher,” said Lana.
“And it’s exciting to train young men and women who just want to keep educating children on country.”
MAF, the aviation lifeline that links these remote communities and homelands to the rest of the world, is a vital part of the program.
Far more than pilots, the crew of MAF are seen as mentors, encouragers, even spiritual supporters.
“They really make a positive impact,” Lyv said. “You can see how dedicated they are to their mission of helping others; they go beyond being just a charter company.”
Their aircraft carry more than passengers: they carry potential. Week after week, they transport tutors, supplies, and the quiet promise of a future shaped by local hands and hearts.
For the Homeland Centre Teachers studying in the homelands, the journey toward formal accreditation is long and full of challenges. But with MAF in the sky and knowledge in their bones, they are rewriting the narrative of indigenous education.
After all, in places where roads can be impassable, learning still finds a way. Because the greatest barrier isn’t distance—it’s believing you can’t overcome it.
