Written by Theresa Arden
For Latimer, sloppy argumentation isn’t just lazy—it’s dangerous. And the antidote? Teaching students how to think clearly, critically, and courageously.
On the Joy of Teaching—and Learning
Latimer’s early career saw him lecturing to up to 1,500 students a day at the University of Sydney. Now, he often teaches to much smaller online groups at CSU—and he’s the first to admit the numbers have changed.
“I might get a dozen students showing up to an online session now. The recordings are there, but you rarely see evidence that most are watching them. Still, if one or two students are listening, that’s enough to keep going.”
His greatest pleasure comes from seeing students thrive—whether it’s the high-achiever who wins awards or the quiet struggler who earns a well-deserved pass after weeks of effort.
“In first-year psychology, I didn’t even get a credit. But I was accepted into Honours, earned First-Class Honours, and later, a medal for my PhD. Early grades aren’t always a measure of what someone can do.”
He adds that thank-you emails and thoughtful survey comments at the end of session are among the greatest rewards. “Nothing warms the cockles of a teacher’s heart more than being told they helped.”
Markers Aren’t Obliged to Be Generous
When asked whether students still try the same old excuses, there’s a hint of amusement in Latimer’s reply as he reflects on how things have evolved in the digital age.
“The digital age has ruled out the old excuses such as, ‘The dog ate my essay,’ and some interesting new ones are now in use. For example, submitting a draft with marginal comments ‘by mistake’, thereby giving oneself an indefinite extension until the marker makes contact and requests the final version.”
It’s clever, he concedes—but ultimately flawed. “The problem with that one,” he adds, “is that markers are not obliged to be that generous.”
Teaching with empathy, not punishment
Latimer’s approach to teaching has been shaped as much by poor examples as by good ones.
“I’ve had some hopeless, indeed downright dangerous, teachers in my time, particularly in my early education during the late 1940s and early 1950s. Male ‘teachers’ who had been brutalised in WW2 found many excuses for giving one a thrashing with a cane and ignoring the obvious physical and psychological implications of doing so.”
These experiences informed a core belief that remains central to his philosophy: learning should never be rooted in fear.
“As psychologists, we know that punishment does not work and that positive reinforcement is the most efficient and acceptable means of altering behaviour, and so any teaching philosophies I have are based on that premise.”
In practice, this means going the extra mile to provide feedback that is not only detailed but constructive. “I have always tried to provide students with copious marginal commentary on written work as well as a general summary justifying any marks or grade awarded,” he says. He also makes a point of being approachable—by phone, text, or email—so that students can always seek clarity or support.
“Keep walking. Keep thinking. Keep loving.”
Latimer’s outlook on life is as thoughtful as it is grounded. He walks several kilometres a day, studies French via Duolingo, solves cryptic crosswords, and even plays the recorder—despite arthritis.
He’s also a sailor, racing aboard his Sydney 38 yacht, Love Byte, out of Rushcutters Bay, as a member of the Royal Australian Navy Sailing Association. “It’s not as easy as it used to be,” he says, “but it’s still joyful.”
But more than anything, he believes life is about love, curiosity, and meaningful connection.
“More important than anything is simply to be in love with someone. If you’re 60+ and not daft about someone, it could be a good time to start negotiating with your undertaker.”
And yet, beneath the dry wit is something quietly powerful: a reminder that what keeps us going isn’t just what we do—it’s who we care for, and how deeply we choose to keep engaging with the world.
Charlie blog is a SSAF funded initiative.
