By David Wilson
Hobart-based Rosalie Martin has a broader remit than your average speech pathologist. Among other projects, the 2017 Tasmanian Australian of the Year helps prisoners learn how to read at Tasmania's Risdon Prison, where she runs its Just Sentences literacy project. Martin also operates a private practice and a communication skills charity called Chatter Matters.
Over the phone, Martin, 54, is warm yet meticulous. "The key skills for the job of speech pathology are that we need to be 'other-minded – other-hyphen-minded', being really conscious of the other person," she says.
Rosalie Martin says speech pathologists have to be 'really conscious of the other person'.
Martin says that, obviously, she needs technical skills – a grasp of anatomy and physiology, plus an understanding of the structure of language: how it is organised.
"And then I think the other thing is about really being flexible," she says. "And I want to say 'kind', actually because it really matters. We need to meet our clients with the willingness to listen and understand the challenges that they're having."
Martin says it's important to respond with a level of tenderness and sensitivity that allows them to believe they could improve in areas where they feel they have failed.
"And when we've failed in something it can be really hard to go back there and try again, because we might fail again. And that's uncomfortable for us as human beings."
So, building trust that can help clients move forward – attain the skills that they lack is vital, she says.
The thing that clients and others underestimate is the scope of her work. Applying scientific instrumentation and knowledge, speech therapists may tackle any communication problem. Their brief covers the whole human lifespan – from birth to old age, from any level of ability at any point on the continuum. "So that's kind of a three-dimensional thing going on there," Martin says.
People think speech pathology is just about stuttering and lisping but it goes far beyond those ills to include social skills, swallowing disorders and literacy, which she teaches in prison. "People are always completely surprised by what I do," she says.
Martin relaxes by being a meditator. "I don't mean a hippie meditator. I'm a contemplative – that's probably a better way to say it."
She aims to sustain a "spacious awareness" of the fact that life is messy. Rather than making judgments about the messiness and allowing herself to become frustrated and stressed, she strives to be non-judgmental – equally accepting of things that go well and not so well. What she describes as "high-level emotion" is out.
Martin was raised by her farmer parents in South Australia – Woomera and Cockatoo Valley. Her childhood ambition was for the world to be kinder.
By the time she was ready to leave school she knew she wanted to work in a caring profession. Martin thought briefly about nursing but speech pathology attracted her, partly because of her experience with an older brother who suffered from a hearing impairment.
Now, she has 30 years' experience as a clinician and two bachelor degrees, in speech pathology and criminology. Her Tasmanian of the Year write-up states that her prison pilot literacy scheme has achieved astounding results. "With patience and persistence, Rosie is helping others to open new doors and explore new worlds," it says.
Despite the acclaim, Martin earns only enough to live on. If she worked in the public service sector, she would be paid double, but she says her role gives her enough time to develop her charity. Martin prefers social justice work to having a big income.
She is driven by a desire for there to be more fairness, kindness and equality of opportunity. "I would love to see this."
As for the hours Martin works, she says: "My mind is always on the job. I wake in the night and in the early morning with ideas for things about work – but this doesn't bother me because I love the work I do. Work is part of life, and abundant work with purpose and meaning and deep satisfaction is abundant life!"