Clarkson CHS

Travel puts you in situations you don't fully control: a schedule you didn't set, a plan that falls apart, a budget that has to stretch, decisions nobody else will make for you, and a place you've never been before. Each one builds something you'll use again, well beyond the trip itself. The clearest place to start is with the one thing almost every trip runs on: a timetable you don't get to set.

Time management and planning

On a school trip, that timetable isn't optional. The bus leaves at a set time whether you're ready or not, and if you're late to the meeting point, the whole group waits. On top of that you're managing your own bag, your own money, and your own ID, all while keeping pace with times you didn't choose.

An assignment due on a date you didn't set works the same way, and so does a shift that starts regardless of how your morning went. Working backwards from a fixed time is the same habit either way.

Problem-solving under pressure

Sticking to a tight schedule like that gets harder the moment something goes wrong, and on a trip, something usually does. A direction turns out wrong, a venue closes early, or a connection you were counting on doesn't show, and there's rarely a moment to weigh up every option properly. You work with what you know and adjust.

A group assignment falling apart close to a deadline works the same way. A shift that throws up a problem nobody saw coming does too. Travel just serves up more chances to practise it, since something unplanned is fairly likely on any longer trip.

Adaptability

One disruption is one thing. On a trip with no fixed itinerary, they don't stop coming: a bus that's stopped running, a booking that's fallen through, advice from someone you meet that sends you somewhere else entirely. Working around it happens more than once a day.

Subjects, teachers, and even the direction of a whole course of study can shift over a few years. A new manager, a new role, or a different process at a job can show up with just as little warning.

Managing money over time

Every adjustment on the road often comes with a cost. On a longer trip, like a gap year or an extended stretch of backpacking, that cost is money: a fixed amount that has to last until the end. Every choice becomes a trade-off: spend more here, and there's less for later. Small regular costs, a coffee, a snack, add up faster than the occasional big one, and that becomes obvious once there's a hard limit on what's left.

Saving from a part-time wage toward something specific asks for the same discipline. Sticking to an agreed budget for a school project or work event, without going back to ask for more halfway through, asks for the same thing.

Independence and decision-making

Deciding how to spend what's left is one of many calls you make without anyone else weighing in while travelling. Nobody's checking in when you're travelling without family, even when you're travelling with friends. Where to stay, how to get there, and what happens if the plan changes are all decisions nobody else is making for you.

Nobody tracks a study schedule day to day, and a task at work often gets handed over without anyone standing behind you the whole time. Both call on the same kind of self-reliance.

Approaching unfamiliar situations with confidence

Every trip eventually puts you somewhere completely unfamiliar, with systems and norms you don't already know: a transport network you've never used before, social customs that don't quite match your own, streets that look different simply because you don't know them yet. Doing this again and again, even on short trips, builds a habit of walking into the unknown without needing it mapped out first.

Starting a new job, joining a new team, or walking into a classroom for the first time all ask for the same thing: stepping into something you don't fully know yet and getting oriented anyway. Having done that already through travel means it tends to happen faster, even though the specific situation is different every time.

Building on what a trip gives you

You don't need to travel to build any of these skills. School and a part-time job can do it too, usually more slowly and one at a time. A trip tends to bundle several of them together, in situations where you don't have much choice but to develop them quickly.

Our Travel section has more on gap years, exchanges, and other options to consider.

Yesterday I attended the first webinar from Jobs and Skills Australia (JSA) on their new National Skills Taxonomy (NST), led by Megan Lilly. You can read the accompanying think-piece here if you missed it. It was a fascinating insight into their development processes - I was involved in the consultation panels last year when they started out, and it's great to see how far they've come and just how much time and effort (and probably money) has gone into creating a definition of skill as a concept.

It's vitally important that they do this work, because the way they choose to define skill will shape the infrastructure they end up building. For example, taxonomies which define skill as a flat concept - as in, they don't specify as something that can be acquired or developed - tend to have flat, short lists of core skills, which are separate from the technical skill lists, while taxonomies that define skill as something that is learned, built, acquired tend to separate core skills that are outward facing (like communication, collaboration) from skills which are inward-facing or directed at the self (like resilience, initiative, creativity).

I've (fingers crossed) got a paper on this coming out soon so will explain more then, but we can see this at play in the definition which JSA have come up with for the new NST:

A skill is a valued and purpose-driven human ability that is acquired or refined through learning and practice. It is a dynamic function of an individual's knowledge, experience, and personal attributes that is continuously influenced by context, interaction with others, and the demands of the environment in which it is exercised.

They visualise this in practice with this great dynamic diagram which reminds me a little of the Systems Theory Framework diagram:

From this, I expect that we'll see a taxonomy that holds technical skills (developed abilities) in one bucket, and splits core skills into the more technical-ish ones (and probably stores them in developed ability), and ones that could be considered innate abilities or attributes.

The definition itself is strong and specific; linked directly to humanity, and including mechanisms for development and refinement. I love that they've recognised that skills, while being valued and positioned within this infrastructure as economic units, are also dynamic and influenced by their ecosystem. But the definition does raise some questions, such as, if skills are restricted to human abilities, what does this mean for machines who can perform the same function? Can a piece of technology no longer hold a skill? Is the same action performed by and human vs. a machine a skill in one context and something else in another? To be clear, I don't have the answers to these or my other questions, but it's something I'd like to see clarity on in the framework. What about working dogs who learn to detect drugs being brought into airports, do they build skill, or are their abilities simply 'tricks'?

The way we define skill as a concept underpins the entire taxonomy, but in this article I wanted to look closer at something else all taxonomies I've reviewed seem to have in common, which is a stated aim of building a 'common language of skill'.

A common language of skill?

Now, this sounds like a great thing - surely if everyone is so keen to build a common language, we should be able to find consensus, right? Ah, no. To prove my point, these are the stated aims for the world's current, open, major skills taxonomies:

From the granddaddy of skills taxonomies - O*NET's predecessor DOT (the Dictionary of Occupational Titles):

...the DOT should serve as a national benchmark that provides a common language for all users of occupational information.

and from O*NET itself, back in the early days:

...person-job matching might be explicitly linked to training recommendations bearing on the training or development of requisite skills. If the occupational information system is to integrate responses to diverse queries, two requirements must be met. First, descriptors must be phrased so that they are readily understandable by users with different backgrounds and different concerns. Second, the descriptors must provide a common language that will permit users with different backgrounds and concerns to integrate and interrelate their efforts.

and in the ESCO (European Skills, Competences, Qualifications and Occupations) they talk about:

The aim of ESCO is to support job mobility across Europe and therefore a more integrated and efficient labour market, by offering a “common language” on occupations and skills that can be used by different stakeholders on employment and education and training topics.

while in the World Economic Forum's Global Skills Taxonomy:

The following proposed framework for a global skills taxonomy is a first step in shifting toward a skills-based labour market. We hope that the principles for implementation herein will serve to further align learning supply and demand around a common language for skills and unlock the Reskilling Revolution.

and the UK, who recently built out the Standard Skills Classification (SSC) phrase it this way:

The SSC provides a coherent framework and a common language for describing the skills, tasks, and knowledge required across the labour market.

Canada kind of let me down just a little, they don't use the phrase 'common language' explicitly, instead they describe it in the Skills and Competencies Taxonomy (SCT) this way:

...the SCT was created to address discrepancies in terminology used across different data sources in the Canadian labour market, thereby providing a common competency dictionary.

Meanwhile, here in Australia we've doubled down on 'common language', first in the now-defunct Australian Skills Classification (ASC):

It maps the skills used within occupations, providing a ‘common language’ of skills where things like occupation titles and qualifications have long been used as proxies.

and now in the new NST:

The National Skills Taxonomy (NST) is a new, evidence-based framework that provides a common language for describing the skills Australians gain, develop, and use across education and employment.

Other than the recalcitrant Canadian SCT, which just had to be different (albeit not that different) we've got a lot of important people saying that the point of a skills taxonomy is to create one common language.

So how come we have ended up with this many different 'common' languages? They don't all use the same definition of skill, or the same list of skills, or structure of taxonomy, or even call the same skills the same name! It's not one common language that they've created, but rather a stack of individual, localised, owned languages which need translating in order to speak to each other.

I have questions...

If you've been following along with my skills project then some of this might seem familiar; I am, after all, just about finished building a mapping tool that translates terms from one skill framework into another, but wouldn't it be lovely if I hadn't needed to do any of this?

It's got me thinking about what a common language actually is.

What is it that makes a language common, and do we all really want to be speaking the same language all the time anyway? There are a lot of people all claiming to be developing a common language of skills, so I figure it's probably a good idea to ask some of these questions and don't just take it for granted that we're actually building a common language, or that a common language is even a good thing.

If we're able to define skill as a concept at the core of out taxonomies, then perhaps we also need to reflect on how we define a common language, and if building a common language is even something we really should be doing.

What is a common language and how would it help?

When we talk about a common language, what we really mean is that we want to build a way for everyone to communicate together and mean the same thing - and it is the shared meaning that is the real goal. There are three types of common language:

Lingua Franca

This is what we call a 'bridge language' and it exists so that people who don't share a language can communicate. In centuries gone by, these would be languages primarily used for trade, which were used to help move goods across communities. Sometimes these take the form of a 'global' language - like English, which is often used in areas frequented by tourists (see the Osaka Station sign below for an example), or a pidgin or creole which is where two or more languages are combined, usually in a simplified way.

Shared Technical Vocabulary

Within some fields, usually where there's a highly specialised level of technical knowledge, a shared technical vocabulary may be developed. These are usually formalised and standardised ontologies, such as SNOMED CT which was designed to be an international clinical terminology for health systems, and has been adopted across the globe. But they don't have to be formal vocabularies, sometimes these emerge through shared communication within a kind of linguistic bubble, such as speaking 'Silicon Valley' or 'legalese'.

Common Ground

This one is the least formal of the three, and describes a situation where people can communicate through differences based on a shared set of agreements or beliefs. If you can't find common ground, then it's difficult to conduct a conversation (even if you're speaking in the same language) but when you share knowledge, aims, and values then you can form a common language.

Skill taxonomies are designed to be shared technical vocabulary

But in order for these to really work across and between systems, then we really need to have only one to work from. That's why SNOMED CT works, and has created a truly common language, when the various skill taxonomies haven't. The not-for-profit which maintains and manages it is owned and governed by member countries, which means their efforts can focus on creating one unified ontology.

Perhaps, if a group of countries could come together we could work towards a similar shared approach for a skills taxonomy, but that brings me to my second question; is a common language even a good idea? Surely it is for medicine, where we're talking about discrete medical concepts with a singular meaning, but skill and occupations are rarely identical.

Is a common language a good idea?

If you've read (or watched, or listened to) Douglas Adams' great text, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy then you may remember the babel fish. The babel fish was inserted in your ear (ew) and allows you to instantly understand any language - very handy for travelling across the galaxy. Image below of the TV version of the babel fish:

The name of the fish comes from the Bible story about the Tower of Babel, a mythical city where everyone could understand each other, and I don't remember how it ended because I've forgotten most of Sunday School but I don't think it went well for the citizens of babel.

In the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, people still retained, spoke, and heard their own language, but in Babel they all shared a single language - and that is the differentiation I want to make here.

There are ways to allow people to communicate without losing their own language. Indeed, in an age where Google can translate just about anything in the blink of an eye (including rare and precious Indigenous languages), it is theoretically possible that we have now developed our own babel fish for languages, and lingua franca may end up becoming a thing of the past.

Which would probably not be a bad thing.

When we talk about a 'common' language, we can really replace 'common' with 'dominant'. That's because the people who are in power get to decide the shape of the common language, and all to often that resembles the language spoken by the people in power. Case in point: the erasure of First Nations languages from Australia.

The National Archives of Australia have an excellent set of resources for learning senior history on the dispossession of Indigenous languages - before the British colonised Australia, people here spoke over 250 languages and 800 dialects, but this number is now down to 123. The multitude of languages was replaced (often forcibly) by the 'common' (and dominant) English language.

I'm not suggesting that the developers of our skills taxonomies are undertaking oppression at anything like this scale, but the question of 'what will be left behind' in creating a common language needs to be asked.

Will skills developed and used mainly in domestic settings make their way into the NST? Will skills refined for millenia by the First People of Australia be correctly captured, named (with allowance for regional differences in title), and classified? Or will the NST mostly be composed of visible occupational skills, with clear economic value?

Silences are already present within our occupational systems, and these are often used as as the starting point for the development of the skills taxonomy. For example, in Australia, ours is the OSCA and while the developers took steps to fill some of the gaps, for example by splitting one occupation which had represented 5.3% (!) of the Australian workforce into five occupations, there are still a whole lot of jobs not adequately represented or simply not defined at the same level. If a truly common language is the goal, then these silences need to be considered at the start of development.

My final argument for considering a translation mechanism, rather than one common language, comes from the fact that when you choose one language over another you lose the nuance which makes language so brilliant. I speak English, but I know that there are concepts in other languages that I yearn for. Take, for example, Bildung - a German concept that has no direct translation into English. If you speak German then please feel free to correct my interpretation, but my understanding is that it is a process of personal growth and development, and the shaping of character through both education and life. As another example, the Sámi people from the Arctic have more than 200 words to describe snow - whereas I'm limited to 'snow' and 'sleet'. Sure, I might go ten years or more without seeing snow, and 200 words are probably not much use to me, but I don't dispute the right of the Sámi people to their diversity of vocabulary, and I shouldn't force them to confine themselves to my two meagre words for the sake of a common language.

Out of all of the skill taxonomies I've reviewed, I'm not surprised that the EU are the people who have found a solution which respects this wonderful diversity of language, and their model is one which could be easily adopted by other developers. Rather than limit themselves to a single term for each skill, they have one preferred term, then additional non-preferred terms, as well as hidden terms, and they do this in each of the 28 ESCO languages. Take Communication, for example:

• Preferred term: communication
• Alternative labels: correspondence, interaction, communicating, and conversation
• Hidden labels: these will be alternative spellings etc.
• Description: Exchanging and conveying information, ideas, concepts, thoughts, and feelings through the use of a shared system of words, signs, and semiotic rules via a medium.

The additional labels give us more context, and allow people to use the terms they prefer yet keep them on the same page.

Will we find a common language?

I don't know. Possibly, in time, and we may end up with a flexible shared technical language that acts as a living catalog of skill in all its forms and dialects. Or we may end up with more crosswalks and translation mechanisms for a set of discrete common languages that work well within their own contexts.

I'm hoping for the first, while working on tools that facilitate the second. At the end of the day, all that really matters is that young people can describe the things they do well in a way that works for them, and I'm open to any developments that support that process.

Heritage Consultants assess the cultural and historical significance of places, buildings, and landscapes, and advise on how those values should be considered when development or change is proposed. They sit at the point where history meets the planning system, translating what makes a place meaningful into practical guidance that architects, developers, and planners can act on.

If you're curious about history, enjoy research and writing, and want work that connects the past to decisions being made right now, this is a career with a clear sense of purpose.

What skills do I need as a Heritage Consultant?

• Research & analytical thinking
• Clear & precise writer
• Attention to detail
• Knowledge of planning systems
• Curious & historically minded
• Confident communicator
• Collaborative approach
• Objective & evidence-based

What do Heritage Consultants do?

Before you can advise on anything, you need to understand what you're dealing with. A significant part of your work involves researching the history and cultural context of a place, drawing on archival records, historical maps, photographs, and other sources to build a picture of its significance. This research forms the foundation of everything that follows, and doing it thoroughly is what gives your advice credibility when it's tested against competing development interests.

Day to day, you'll prepare heritage impact statements and reports that assess how a proposed development or change would affect a place's heritage values. These documents need to be clear, well-evidenced, and defensible, because they're often submitted as part of a formal planning process and may be scrutinised by councils, heritage authorities, or planning tribunals. You'll also liaise regularly with planners, architects, developers, and government agencies, explaining your findings and helping project teams understand what heritage considerations mean for their work in practical terms.

Periodically you'll work on more complex projects involving significant heritage places, contested assessments, or the adaptive reuse of historic buildings where heritage values and contemporary needs need to be carefully balanced. Some Heritage Consultants develop areas of specialisation in particular periods, building types, or cultural contexts. Others focus on specific aspects of the work such as conservation advice, indigenous heritage, or landscape significance.

What kind of lifestyle could I expect?

Heritage Consultants work for specialist heritage consultancies, architecture and planning firms, local and state government agencies, and statutory heritage bodies. Some work independently, building a practice around assessment and advisory work across a range of clients. The role exists wherever planning and development intersect with places of historical or cultural significance, which means opportunities across urban, regional, and rural settings.

Work is primarily office-based, with site visits to inspect and document places as part of the assessment process. The balance between desk work and fieldwork varies depending on the project mix, but report writing and research are central to the role regardless of the setting. Hours are generally average, and the role offers a reasonable degree of flexibility, particularly in consultancy environments where work is project-based.

Salaries are average, reflecting the scale of the field and the research-focused nature of much of the work. This is a small field with a defined scope, so opportunities are more limited than in broader planning or architecture professions. Demand is steady rather than rapidly growing, tied to the volume of development activity and the regulatory requirements that trigger heritage assessment. For those with genuine interest in the subject matter, the work offers consistent engagement with meaningful and often irreplaceable places.

How to become a Heritage Consultant

1. Study a relevant foundation discipline: Entry into heritage consulting comes through a range of backgrounds including heritage studies, history, architecture, and archaeology. Each brings something different to the work, and all are recognised starting points. A degree in any of these areas gives you the research skills, contextual knowledge, and analytical foundation the role requires.
2. Build experience in heritage or planning settings: Look for graduate roles or work experience with heritage consultancies, local councils, or state heritage agencies. Early exposure to real assessment work, even in a supporting role, builds the practical skills and professional judgment that study alone can't provide.
3. Develop your knowledge of the planning and regulatory framework: Heritage consulting operates within a specific legal and policy context. Understanding how heritage legislation, planning schemes, and assessment processes work is essential to producing advice that holds up in a formal planning environment. This knowledge develops on the job but is worth pursuing actively from early in your career.
4. Build your writing and research skills: The quality of your written reports is central to your professional reputation in this field. Seek out opportunities to write clearly and rigorously, whether through academic work, research projects, or early professional roles. Strong writers who can make complex assessments accessible to non-specialists are consistently valued.

From here, you could move into senior consulting roles managing complex or high-profile heritage assessments, take on project leadership within larger consultancies or government agencies, develop expertise in policy and standards, or build an independent practice around a particular area of specialisation.

What can I do right now?

If you're in high school and interested in working as a Heritage Consultant, here are some practical steps:

• Visit heritage-listed buildings, historic precincts, and local museums to start developing an eye for what makes places historically and culturally significant, and practise articulating what you notice
• Look for work experience with local council planning or heritage teams, or with historical societies and heritage organisations, to get a sense of how heritage values are assessed and protected in practice
• Focus on building strong skills in research, writing, and history, as these are the core tools of heritage consulting work at every level of the profession

Find out more about alternative careers on our Job Spotlights page.

Exams and assessments are usually built around one standard way of working: sit down, read the questions, and answer within a set time. For some students, a disability or learning difficulty makes that standard format harder to work with, whether it affects concentration, processing speed, reading, writing, or physical access to the exam room. Reasonable adjustment is the term used across schools and universities for changes made to remove that barrier, without changing what's being assessed.

What counts as a reasonable adjustment

A reasonable adjustment is a change to teaching, learning, or assessment that lets a student with disability or a learning difficulty take part on the same basis as everyone else. Schools and universities are required to provide them under national disability discrimination law, including the Disability Standards for Education, which applies to every education provider in the country. The purpose is to remove a barrier related to the disability, not to change what's being tested.

Reasonable adjustments are usually set up in advance, based on an ongoing need, and stay in place across a term, semester, or course. That's different to special consideration, which covers a one-off request made after something unexpected, like an illness or a family emergency, affects a specific assessment. If that's closer to your situation, our guide to applying for special consideration covers that process instead.

How it works at school

At school, the first step is usually a conversation with a classroom teacher, learning support coordinator, or year level coordinator. Schools are required to look at each student's individual needs and work out which adjustments would help them access the curriculum and show what they know, using evidence such as an educational assessment, a diagnosis, or documented observations from teachers over time.

Common adjustments at school level include:

• Extra time to complete an exam or assessment task
• A separate, quieter room to reduce distractions
• Use of a computer, word processor, or speech to text software
• A reader to read questions aloud, or a scribe to write down answers
• Modified exam papers, such as larger text or simplified wording
• Rest breaks during longer assessments

Raising this early, ideally at the start of a school year or term, gives schools time to put adjustments in place, particularly ahead of major exams.

How it works at university

University adds an extra step. Rather than a teacher arranging things directly, students usually need to register with the university's disability or equity support service themselves, often before their course starts or early in first semester. A staff member in that service, sometimes called a disability advisor or disability practitioner, helps the student set up what's usually called a learning access plan, setting out the adjustments that apply to their study.

From there, it's the student's responsibility to share that plan with each lecturer or unit coordinator, usually at the start of every semester or whenever they start a new subject. One arrangement at school often covers every class a student takes. At university, it has to be actioned subject by subject, and the plan can be reviewed and updated as those subjects change, since a prac-based unit might need different adjustments to one assessed purely by exam.

Any information a student shares about their disability is treated as confidential, and support services generally can't pass it on to lecturers or other students without the student's consent.

If you don't have formal documentation

Formal adjustments usually rely on some form of documentation, but that's not the only way to get support. Speaking up clearly about what's making an assessment harder, sometimes called self-advocacy, can lead to informal adjustments from a teacher or lecturer without needing to disclose a diagnosis at all. This might look like asking for feedback on a draft before it's submitted, checking you've understood a task correctly, or requesting a quieter spot to sit an in-class test.

Raising it early and being specific about what would help makes it easier for a teacher or lecturer to say yes. It also doesn't rule out applying for formal adjustments later, if that becomes the right option.

Preparing for exam day

Whatever adjustments are in place, general exam preparation still matters. Getting familiar with the format in advance and practising under similar time pressure both help. A calm, distraction-free study space also makes a real difference, and our guide on building a study environment that actually helps you focus covers how to set one up. Tools like flashcards or a simple summary sheet can make information easier to recall under pressure, and reading through the whole paper before you start writing helps you plan your time instead of running out of it on the first section. For a full breakdown of how to prepare in the weeks and days before a big exam, see our guide on what to do in the last few weeks before a big exam.

Support is there to be used

Reasonable adjustments exist because a standard exam format doesn't suit every student, and schools and universities are required to provide them where they're needed. The process looks different at each stage, more arranged for you at school, more self-directed at university, but the same principle carries through: the adjustment removes a barrier, it doesn't change what's being assessed.

Note: information is accurate as of September 2026, but schools, universities, and government departments regularly update these processes, so check directly with your institution for the specifics.

If you'd like to read more on this topic, our resources for students with disability cover a wider range of support options.We also have heaps more study tips and resources for students with disability on our website.

Think about the biggest ferry, cruise ship or navy vessel you've ever seen. Someone had to design it before a single piece of metal was cut. That someone was probably a naval architect. It's not a job many people talk about at school, but it impacts everything from surf lifesaving boats to submarines.

If you like maths, love the ocean, and enjoy solving tricky problems, this could be a career worth looking into. Let's dive into some what naval architecture is all about and how you could become a professional in this industry.

What does a naval architect do?

A naval architect designs and builds ships, boats and other structures that float. That includes cargo ships, ferries, super yachts, navy vessels, and even oil rigs out at sea. They work out how a vessel will handle rough water, how much weight it can carry, and how to keep it stable when it's fully loaded. Every ship needs to be strong enough to survive the sea, but light enough to move through it efficiently. Balancing those two things is most of the job.

Naval architects don't work alone. They team up with marine engineers, who focus on the engines and machinery, and with shipbuilders, who turn the drawings into something real. A lot of the design work now happens on computers, using software that can test how a hull will behave in a storm before it's ever built.

Pathways into the field

In Australia and New Zealand, naval architecture is usually studied through an engineering degree, and there are a few different routes in.

Some universities offer naval architecture as a specialist stream within a broader engineering degree. At UNSW Canberra, for example, students doing a Bachelor of Naval Architecture Engineering (Honours) spend their first two years studying mechanical engineering before moving into a specialised naval architecture stream for their third and fourth years. Other students like those at Flinders University complete the first two years there before transferring to the Australian Maritime College to finish the Bachelor of Engineering (Naval Architecture) (Honours) head to Tasmania, for their dedicated naval architecture and maritime engineering units/degrees. Alternatively, you could complete a related degree and choose a postgraduate qualification like the Submarine Naval Architecture Maritime Engineering course offered at Adelaide University.

New Zealand doesn't have as many courses with "naval architecture" in the title, but there's still a clear path. Auckland University of Technology runs a maritime engineering major where students study for two years in Auckland, then transfer to the Australian Maritime College in Tasmania to specialise in naval architecture or ocean engineering. Students at the University of Auckland can also build a strong base through mechanical engineering, then branch into marine-related projects and research later on. There's also the possibility of studying overseas depending in the courses, costs, and other requirements.

None of these pathways are quick. Most naval architecture degrees take four years, and after that, graduates typically build up more hands-on experience before they're considered fully qualified. It's a long road, but it leads somewhere quite specific and quite rare.

Naval architect or marine engineer?

You'll often hear naval architecture mentioned alongside marine engineering and ship building, and it's easy to mix them up. The simplest way to tell them apart is to think about what each person is focused on. A naval architect designs the vessel itself: its shape, structure, stability, and how it will handle the water. A marine engineer, on the other hand, looks after what makes the vessel move and function, including the engines, propulsion systems, electrics, and other onboard machinery.

In practice, marine engineering and naval architecture roles can overlap a lot, and many degrees, including some in Australia and New Zealand, teach both areas before students specialise. If you love the maths of hull shapes and stability, naval architecture may suit you best. If you're drawn to engines, systems, and how things are powered, marine engineering could be the better fit. Either way, the school subjects and early pathways are very similar, so you don't need to choose too early.

A shipbuilder is the person (or company) that actually constructs the vessel from the designs from the naval architect. This covers the physical work of shaping and welding steel, assembling hull sections, fitting out the interior, and installing engines and equipment on the shipyard floor. Shipbuilding is a hands-on trade, and it involves large teams of tradespeople such as welders, fitters and riggers, usually working under a shipyard's project managers and engineers. Again, ship builders often work closely with naval architects throughout a project, since a design has to be practical to build, and builders often flag issues that feed back into the design.

Skills you'll need

Maths and physics are foundational to naval architecture, so a solid handle on both will take you a long way. You'll need to be comfortable with numbers, but also with visualising how things move and behave, since so much of the job involves predicting how a ship will act in water long before it's built.

Problem-solving is just as important as having raw number skills. Ships have to work in tough and unpredictable conditions, so architects need to think through what could go wrong and design around it. Attention to detail is essential too, a small mistake in a calculation could turn into an expensive, or even dangerous, mistake at sea.

It also helps to be a good communicator. Naval architects work closely with engineers, shipbuilders and clients, and a design is only going to be become a reality if you can explain it clearly to the people who'll be building, buying, and using it.

Subjects and experience that can help

As we mentioned before, maths and physics are the two subjects most likely to open doors here, so keep them up in school if you're considering this path. Design and technology subjects are useful too, particularly anything involving computer-aided design, since that's a tool you'll use constantly at university and beyond.

Work experience doesn't need to be inside a shipyard to be worthwhile. Time spent with a local boat builder, marine surveyor, or engineering firm can show you what the day-to-day work is really like, and it looks strong on any university application. Joining a sailing club, helping maintain boats, or even building small model boats at home all show genuine interest and initiative, which admissions teams notice. Plus it will give you invaluable real-world knowledge about how boats are built and function. If you can find work experience connected to engineering more broadly, that's still a great foundation, since the first year or two of most naval architecture pathways overlaps heavily with general engineering study.

Ready to chart your course?

Naval architecture is a specialised field, but it rewards curious, maths-minded students who want a career with purpose. If you're weighing up whether this pathway is right for you, it's worth exploring the different study routes available and how they connect to your interests. Remember, if you study engineering more broadly to start off with, you'll have more options and back up plans if you change your mind down the track.

Take a look at our Job Spotlights to see learn about other careers on the water (or on land) and their pathways that might interest you.

Every job ends differently. You might resign and move on to something else, your employer might decide your role isn't continuing, or a casual role might simply stop being rostered without either side making it official. Which of these applies to you determines what you need to do first, starting with notice.

Giving notice when you're resigning

If you're in a permanent role and decide to resign, the notice you need to give comes from whichever document sets out your pay and conditions, your award, enterprise agreement, or employment contract. If none of these mention notice, you're not legally required to give any, though it's considered good practice to give some so your employer has time to adjust.

You can give notice verbally, but it's worth putting it in writing too, including the date you intend to work until. This gives both you and your employer a clear record of when your employment ends.

If your employer ends your employment

If your employer is the one ending things, they generally need to give you notice based on how long you've worked there:

• Less than 1 year: 1 week
• 1 to 3 years: 2 weeks
• 3 to 5 years: 3 weeks
• More than 5 years: 4 weeks

You could also be entitled to an extra week if you're over 45 and have worked there for at least two years. If your employer doesn't want you to work out this notice period, they can pay you instead of having you come in. This is known as payment in lieu of notice.

There are exceptions. Your employer doesn't need to give any notice if you're dismissed for serious misconduct. If your role is being made redundant because the business no longer needs it done, you may be entitled to separate redundancy pay on top of your notice. This doesn't apply to everyone. Casual employees, staff who've worked there for less than 12 months, and staff at small businesses with fewer than 15 employees generally aren't entitled to redundancy pay, even if the redundancy meets all the legal requirements.

Casual work and notice

A casual role doesn't come with the same notice requirements as a permanent one. Since there's no ongoing guarantee of shifts on either side, a casual role can end because you stop being available or because you're no longer being rostered on, without a formal resignation or dismissal taking place. Neither side is usually required to give notice in this situation, though it's still worth letting your employer know your last day, or checking in if you're unsure whether you're still expected on the roster.

We've covered how casual work differs from part-time and full-time roles, including what that means for entitlements, in our article on the difference between casual, part-time, and full-time work.

Your last day

On your last day, you should be paid for every hour you've worked, including any penalty rates (extra pay for things like weekend or public holiday shifts) or allowances owed. You may be asked to return anything belonging to the workplace, like uniforms or equipment, and some employers use the opportunity to ask for feedback on your way out. You'll usually get a final payslip covering the period between your last regular pay and your final day.

What your final pay includes

Your final pay is the last payment you receive after your employment ends. Along with pay for hours worked, it should include:

• Any unused annual leave you've built up, plus leave loading if your job includes it, an extra percentage some workers are paid on top of their normal rate while on leave
• Payment in lieu of notice, if your employer chose not to have you work out your notice period
• Redundancy pay, if your role was made redundant & you meet the requirements
• Accrued long service leave, extra paid leave you may be entitled to after many years with the same employer

Not every item applies to every situation. A casual role ending, for example, usually won't involve any of these, since casual employees don't build up annual leave in the same way.

What doesn't get paid out

Unused sick and carer's leave isn't paid out when your employment ends, no matter how much you've built up. This is different to annual leave, which does get paid out. It's worth understanding the difference well before you leave a job, since it's an easy detail to miss if you've been saving personal leave rather than using it. We've covered this in more detail in our article on sick leave vs personal leave.

When you should get paid

Most employers need to pay your final pay within seven days of your last day, though the exact timing can depend on your award or employment contract. Superannuation, the retirement savings your employer contributes on your behalf, is a separate process. Since 1 July 2026, employers have needed to pay super at the same time as wages rather than once every three months, and it needs to reach your super fund within seven business days of payday. This applies to your final pay too.

What to do if something doesn't add up

If your final pay looks off, start by checking it against your payslips and the hours you've actually worked. It's reasonable to ask your employer or payroll to explain how it was worked out. If you've asked and things still don't line up, the Fair Work Ombudsman has free tools and guidance that can help you work out what you're owed.

Note: information is accurate as of September 2026, but workplace rules around pay and leave are reviewed regularly, so it's worth checking the Fair Work Ombudsman directly if you want the specifics that apply to your situation.

If you're new to working life and want to build a broader understanding of how jobs work, you can find more in our Jobs & Careers section.

Most students apply to a handful of scholarships and never find out why they missed out, or realise they were never really in the running for that one to begin with. Knowing what a scholarship is checking for before you apply changes that.

Why scholarships are worth applying for

• Help cover education costs, including course fees, textbooks & everyday living expenses
• Strengthen a resume or university application
• Open doors to networks, mentoring & other opportunities beyond the funding itself
• Don't need to be paid back, unlike a student loan

What's the difference between a scholarship, bursary, grant, and prize?

These words get used almost interchangeably, but they're not quite the same thing. The University of Melbourne distinguishes scholarships (awarded based on merit or personal circumstances), prizes (awarded for a specific current achievement), bursaries (awarded for financial need), and grants (put toward education costs more broadly). The University of Sydney adds that bursaries specifically cover essential living and study costs, not things like tuition or travel.

In practice, the lines blur constantly. Some universities use "bursary" and "scholarship" as different words for the same thing, and a "prize" for a single outstanding piece of work can function exactly like a one-off scholarship.

Merit scholarships

Merit scholarships are awarded for what you've achieved. They can be based on:

• Academic achievement, usually strong results in senior secondary studies or in a university course already underway
• Sporting excellence, shown through competition results, representative honours, or a clear elite pathway
• Creative or artistic talent, demonstrated through a portfolio, audition, or recorded performance
• Leadership, built through student leadership, captaincy, or a track record of organising others toward a shared goal
• Community involvement, particularly sustained volunteering over time, more than a single one-off event

Most merit scholarships are offered directly by individual universities. There's no single centralised application, so eligibility and what counts as evidence changes from one institution to the next.

Equity scholarships

Equity scholarships work differently, responding to financial hardship or educational disadvantage instead of achievement. This can include:

• Financial hardship, often connected to a Centrelink payment like Youth Allowance or ABSTUDY
• First Nations students
• Students with disability
• Students from regional or remote areas
• Students who are the first in their family to attend university

You'll usually still need to meet the course's entry requirements, but your academic performance beyond that isn't the deciding factor. For more detail on two of these groups specifically, we've got separate guides on scholarships for regional and rural students and scholarships for students with disabilities.

Subject-specific and industry scholarships

A third category doesn't sit neatly under either of the above, since it's built around funding source and field of study rather than achievement or circumstance. These come from employers, industry bodies, or professional associations wanting to attract people into a specific field, engineering, nursing, or teaching, for example.

They tend to split into two different arrangements. Some are tied to future employment: the sponsor covers your study costs, and in return you commit to working for them, or in that industry, for a set period after you finish. Others carry no such obligation, offered by a professional association or foundation simply to support people studying in that field.

Eligibility and structure vary widely by industry and sponsor, so this deserves its own read instead of a full summary here. Our guide on industry-specific scholarships goes into more detail.

One-off vs ongoing scholarships

Scholarships also differ in how long they last. Some pay out once, covering a single year, semester, or specific cost, and finish there. Others are ongoing, continuing for the length of a degree provided certain conditions keep being met, most often maintaining a minimum level of academic performance, staying enrolled full-time, or continuing to meet the circumstances the scholarship was originally awarded for. The University of Melbourne structures its coursework scholarships this way too, either as a one-off payment or a series of regular payments spread across the course.

This matters when comparing offers. Because ongoing scholarships pay out repeatedly, their total value across a degree depends on how long they run, not just the amount advertised up front, and losing eligibility partway through can mean losing the funding too. Whether an offer is one-off or ongoing, and what's required to keep it, is worth checking before accepting, not after.

Working out which category fits you

A single scholarship can sit in more than one category at once. An equity scholarship might still expect solid entry requirements, and a merit scholarship might specifically target students heading into a particular field. The title alone won't tell you this, so reading the full criteria is what shows what a scholarship is looking for, and whether it fits your situation.

Our scholarships hub has more on how to apply, current opportunities in our database, and support for specific circumstances.

A lot of students take a mixed route into and through university: TAFE first, then a degree, or one course that turns into a different one, or a move from one university to another partway through. None of that has to mean starting from scratch. There's a formal process that lets study from one step count toward the next, called credit transfer.

What is credit transfer?

Credit transfer is the formal recognition of study you've already completed, applied toward a new course. If a subject or unit you've finished lines up closely enough with something taught in your new course, you may not have to study it again.

Universities and TAFE providers don't hand this out automatically. Someone has to check your previous results against the new course and work out how closely the content lines up before any recognition is approved.

From TAFE into a university degree

TAFE study and university study aren't always treated as separate tracks. Many universities have set agreements with TAFE providers, often called articulation agreements, that map a specific TAFE qualification onto a set amount of credit in a related degree. A Diploma completed at TAFE could, in some cases, line up with close to a full year of a related Bachelor degree under one of these agreements, though the exact amount varies by course and provider.

Even where there's no formal agreement in place, you can usually still apply for credit transfer directly. You submit your TAFE transcript, and the university assesses your units against their course content. This is one of the reasons a TAFE pathway can still lead somewhere further, rather than being a separate option to university altogether.

A worked example

Consider how this might play out for one student. They spend two years completing a Diploma in Business at TAFE, then apply for a Bachelor of Business at university. Under an articulation agreement between the two providers, the Diploma is recognised as equivalent to first year, so the student enters directly into second year and finishes the Bachelor in around two more years. That's four years of combined study rather than five. The specifics depend entirely on the agreement in place and how closely the two courses match.

Between two degrees, or two universities

You don't need TAFE study behind you for credit transfer to apply. Starting a degree, then switching into a different course, or moving to a different university partway through, doesn't necessarily mean losing the subjects you've already completed. Each one is checked individually against what's taught in the new course, based on content and learning outcomes rather than the subject's name or code.

This matters most for students whose interests shift once they're actually studying something, or who need to move for personal reasons partway through a degree.

Where credit transfer has limits

Credit transfer isn't unlimited, and there are three main boundaries worth understanding early. First, most providers cap how much credit you can receive based on the total length of the course, so a shorter course might allow recognition for around half its units, while a longer degree might only allow it for part of the first year or two.

Second, being granted credit isn't the same as being accepted into a course. These are assessed separately, so meeting one doesn't automatically mean you've met the other.

Third, recognition is assessed unit by unit, not as a full qualification. Some subjects in your new course might not have a match in your previous study, meaning you'd still need to complete them regardless of how much other credit you're given.

What it changes about your course length and workload

The clearest effect of credit transfer is on two things: how long your course takes, and how much you're studying at any one time. Enough recognised study can mean skipping whole semesters, letting you start partway through a degree and finish sooner than someone starting from the beginning. In other cases, the course length stays the same, but recognition reduces how many subjects you're juggling in the semesters it applies to.

Which of these happens depends on how the course is structured. Some degrees only let recognition reduce elective subjects, meaning your overall timeline doesn't shift even though your weekly workload does. Others allow it against core, discipline-specific subjects, which is far more likely to shorten the course itself. Asking a university directly how this would apply to your situation is the only reliable way to know which one you're dealing with.

Why it matters before you've left school

The subjects and study pathways you're choosing now can affect how much flexibility you have later. If you're deciding between VET in Schools, a TAFE-based pathway, or heading straight into university, these routes are more connected than they might appear as separate options on a subject selection form. Choosing vocational study now doesn't rule out university later, and picking a degree doesn't lock you into finishing that exact course if your interests change.

Credit transfer is what makes that flexibility possible in practice. Without it, switching direction partway through would generally mean starting the new course from the beginning.

Checking if credit transfer applies to you

Most universities have an online credit assessor or a searchable credit transfer database, so you can check what your previous study might be worth before you formally apply. You'll typically need your transcript, or your Unique Student Identifier, known as a USI, along with outlines of the specific units or subjects you've completed, so the university can compare the actual content. A university's admissions team or student advisor can also explain what's likely to count in your case, since this can vary depending on the course and how long ago you completed your previous study.

If you want to learn more about the different pathways into and through university, check out our university section.

A job ad relies on a fairly narrow set of recurring language, even though every ad looks different on the surface. Some of it signals exactly how strict a requirement really is, some of it is shorthand that reveals more about a role than it states outright, and a specific pattern of it is worth treating as a warning sign. Reading a job ad well means knowing which is which.

A job ad also lists the employment type, casual, part-time, apprenticeship, and so on, next to the title, and each comes with a different set of entitlements attached. That's covered in more detail in our guides on casual, part-time, and full-time work and apprenticeships vs traineeships.

Requirement and experience language

Requirements sections rely on a small set of recurring words to signal how strict each point actually is. Reading them accurately is the difference between ruling yourself out of a role you could get, and applying to one you're genuinely not eligible for yet.

Essential / required / must have

These are non-negotiable, usually tied to a qualification, a licence, or a minimum amount of experience genuinely needed to do the job. Missing one of these, especially a qualification or licence, usually means the role isn't realistically available to you yet.

Desirable / preferred / highly regarded

These would strengthen an application without being necessary. Most people who get shortlisted for a role don't tick every box in this category, since the list often reads more like a description of the ideal candidate than a strict checklist.

No experience necessary

This means the employer isn't expecting any prior training or work history in the area, and is planning to provide training once you start.

Entry-level

This describes the seniority of the role within the organisation, not a guarantee about how much experience is expected. It's common for an "entry-level" ad to still list one to three years of experience as preferred, since the term is often used to place the role on a career ladder rather than to describe who's eligible to apply.

Minimum X years' experience

A specific number like this is usually a genuine cutoff, unlike softer phrasing such as "some experience," which leaves more room.

Willing to train the right candidate

This signals that fit and attitude matter more than direct experience for this particular ad, and that a strong application without much relevant history is still worth submitting.

Role and workplace culture phrases

Beyond the formal requirements, the role description and company blurb lean on a fairly consistent set of phrases to describe day-to-day work. Knowing what they tend to signal helps set realistic expectations before applying.

Self-starter

Usually signals a role with less structured supervision or training than average, where you're expected to work things out independently once you're up to speed.

Fast-paced environment

Usually signals a high workload with unpredictable demands, rather than a steady, well-planned schedule.

Flexible availability / flexible hours

Often means the roster changes week to week rather than following a fixed pattern, which matters if study or another commitment needs a predictable schedule around it.

Team player

Signals that the employer values someone who cooperates smoothly with existing staff, over someone with a strong, independent working style that might clash with the group.

Wear many hats / other duties as assigned

Common in smaller workplaces, and usually means the role includes tasks outside the original job description as they come up, rather than a narrowly defined set of duties.

Hit the ground running

Signals that minimal onboarding or training is planned, and that a new person is expected to start contributing quickly.

Competitive salary

A deliberately vague phrase used to avoid narrowing the applicant pool with a specific number. It doesn't guarantee the pay is higher than similar roles elsewhere, and it's a detail worth confirming directly before going too far into the process.

Immediate start

Usually reflects urgency, the role has been vacant for a while, or demand for the position is high, rather than saying anything about the quality of the role itself. On its own it isn't a strong signal either way, though it's something to watch for alongside other issues like vague duties or unusually high pay.

Language that signals a scam

A different category of language points to something more serious: the ad might not be for a real job at all. These are specific, well-documented patterns worth treating as warning signs, not just a badly written ad.

Watch for the following:

• Unsolicited contact through text or messaging apps, rather than a reply to an application you actually submitted
• Pay that's unusually high for very little effort or experience
• A hiring decision made almost immediately, with no real interview or discussion of your experience
• A request to pay a "recruitment fee," buy training materials, or top up an account before you can start
• A request for sensitive personal details, like a Medicare card, driver's licence, or banking details, early in the process, before any formal offer
• A job that involves transferring money, or receiving and forwarding packages, on someone else's behalf

A single item on its own is worth pausing over. More than one is a strong sign to stop the conversation and report it, rather than continuing to engage.

Reading a job ad with this in mind

None of these terms are complicated once they're familiar, and a single job ad usually only uses a handful of them at once. Reading one with this vocabulary in mind takes the same time as reading it without, but leaves you with a clearer picture of what's on offer, and whether it's a role you can realistically get and trust.

Our Skills for Work section has more on applications, interviews, and getting ready for your first job.

We're all unique and every brain works in its own way. Some students focus best with music playing. Others need total silence. Some think in pictures, and some think in lists. If you're neurodivergent, meaning your brain works differently to what's considered "typical" (this can include ADHD, autism, dyslexia, dyspraxia and more), high school might feel like it wasn't built with you in mind. But that doesn't mean you can't thrive there. It just means finding the right tools, the right people, and the right approach for you.

Focus on your strengths

Your brain isn't a problem to fix, it's easy to focus on the things that could feel harder, like sitting still during a long lesson or reading pages of dense text. But neurodivergent brains come with real strengths. You might be excellent at spotting patterns, thinking creatively, problem-solving, hyperfocusing on things you love which means you soak up knowledge and become an expert, or noticing details others miss.

Try keeping a simple note on your phone, computer, or even in your diary/journal of all things you're proud of or good at. Add to it whenever something goes well. Over time, it becomes proof that your brain has plenty going for it, even on the tough days.

Where to find support at school and beyond

You don't have to figure everything out alone. Many schools will have learning support staff, counsellors, or wellbeing coordinators who can help you get things like a specialised learning plan, extra exam time, a quiet space to work, or adjusted assignments. Ask your school what's available and see how you can access anything you'll need to help you succeed. If you're not sure who to speak to, a parent, carer or teacher you trust can help you find out and come along to support you.

Outside of school, there are plenty of organisations that specialise in supporting neurodivergent young people. Here are a few examples:

In Australia:

• Amaze who provide information and support for autistic people and their families
• ADHD Australia specialise in resources and advocacy for people with ADHD
• AUSPELD offer support for students, families, and educators working with specific learning difficulties, such as dyslexia

In New Zealand:

• Autism New Zealand are all about empowering autistic people and their communities
• ADHD New Zealand share information and support for anyone with ADHD and their supporters
• SPELD NZ provide support for people with dyslexia or other learning difficulties

These organisations won't be able to do your homework for you, but they can point you towards useful resources, local support groups, and people who understand exactly what you're going through.

Study tips that work with your brain, not against it

Standard study advice doesn't always work for everyone, and that's fine. Instead of forcing yourself into using a method that isn't working, try experimenting until you find what fits.

If sitting still is hard, try studying while standing, walking, or using a fidget tool. If long blocks of reading feel overwhelming, break your work into short chunks with clear breaks in between. Timers can help here, so you know a break is coming and it's easier to focus in the meantime. Find apps and tools that'll help you to accomplish tasks or stay on track.

Visual tools, like colour-coded notes, mind maps or checklists, can also make information easier to hold onto. There's no single "right" way to study. There's only the way that works for you, and you're allowed to keep adjusting it.

Money and financial support

Extra support sometimes comes with extra costs, whether that's tutoring, assistive technology, or specialist assessments. You're not expected to cover this alone.

Talk to your school first, as many have funding set aside for learning support and equipment. Some assessments and services also offer financial help for families who need it, so it's always worth asking rather than assuming it isn't available. Scholarships can be another useful option as you get closer to finishing school, particularly if you're planning further study or training.

There are plenty of organisations and government assistance schemes to look into as well wherever you might be. Find some examples for Australia here and start researching in New Zealand here.

Building connections and finding your people

Feeling understood in high school can matter just as much as academic support. Look for clubs, interest groups or online communities where you can connect with people who share your interests or your experience of being neurodivergent. This might be a school club, a gaming group, an art class, or an online forum for neurodivergent teens.

You don't need a huge friend group to feel supported. Even one or two people who get you could make school feel like a completely different place.

Ready to keep building your future?

Thriving at school looks different for everyone, and there's no single path that works for all neurodivergent students. What matters is understanding your strengths, asking for support when you need it, and surrounding yourself with people who understand and appreciate you.

If you'd like to explore more resources and support options, visit our study tips page to start exploring ways to help you succeed.