Denise Chapman
Faculty of Education
I never saw myself as an author — until this class
Storytelling is a superpower in teacher education. Denise helps students find their voice, power and purpose.
What are you doing differently in your field that you believe is driving real change?
I invite teachers-to-be and teachers currently in classrooms to move beyond the role of curriculum deliverers and step into the role of story-weavers and transformative media mentors who carefully curate and create a range of media for children. In a landscape saturated with dominant narratives, I guide them to question which stories are centred and which are missing. My approach blends critical media literacy with creative practice, encouraging students not just to critique, but to create: video blogs, short-film picture books, and storytelling resources that reflect the communities they serve. This work shifts agency. It’s not just about pointing out problems. It’s about producing meaningful change in classrooms and communities, one story at a time.
How do you help students build confidence, not just knowledge?
Confidence is built through story, community, and permission. I create learning spaces where students’ personal histories and ways of knowing are not just welcome—they’re necessary. When a student realises that their Nana’s lullaby or the oral storytelling traditions of their community are as powerful as anything in a textbook, they start to feel seen. I use reflective practice, peer collaboration, and creative risk-taking to help students build trust in their voices. Whether they’re presenting a critical analysis or performing a story, I remind them that they carry knowledge already.Our work together is about refining how they share it.
My approach blends critical media literacy with creative practice, encouraging students not just to critique, but to create: video blogs, short-film picture books, and storytelling resources that reflect the communities they serve. ”
What do you hope your students take away from their time with you?
I hope they leave knowing that storytelling is a superpower. That the stories we tell and the ones we choose to uplift shape who belongs, who thrives, and who gets heard. I’ve had students tearfully say, ‘I never saw myself as an author, but now I do’. Moments like these remind me that storytelling isn’t just a tool. It’s a bridge between identity and pedagogy. It’s in these moments that students begin to understand their creative and cultural power as future educators.
What do you hope your students remember about you 10 years from now?
I hope they remember that I believed in their voice, especially when they were unsure of it themselves. I want them to carry a mindset of critical care. The ability to question systems while remaining radically committed to the wellbeing of the young people they serve. That means choosing books that represent diverse lives, honouring oral language in the classroom, and seeing media not as neutral but as a cultural force that shapes imagination.
What legacy or ripple effect do you hope to leave behind?
I hope to leave behind a generation of teachers who become media mentors who understand that stories can either build bridges or walls. They choose every day to build bridges. The ripple effect is in the child who finally sees themselves in a classroom book. In the student who finds power in their home language. In the community that feels heard. That’s the legacy I work toward: hope through story, and justice through care.
What’s the biggest myth about university education you wish more people would rethink?
That it’s about delivering knowledge to passive recipients. In my classroom, students are active cultural workers. They don’t wait to be told what to think—they question, collaborate, and create. University should be a place where lived experience matters, where knowledge is relational, and where creativity is not an add-on but a method of inquiry.
I completed my doctorate at Vanderbilt University, where the School of Education holds a powerful motto: “Teaching is Learning.” That idea has never left me. I carry it into every classroom, knowing that I, too, am learning alongside my students. It fuels the spirit of each class, and it means that no unit I teach is ever the same twice. Each offering is uniquely shaped by the people in the room—extended by their imagination, grounded in their lived experience, and animated by their questions.
When we embrace teaching as learning, education becomes a shared, evolving process. It is not a top-down transaction, but a collaborative journey of growth, reflection, and imagination. We’re not just preparing students for careers—we’re preparing them to shape the world through care, critique, and creativity.
What does being a 'Changemaker’ mean to you personally?
"Calling someone a changemaker is an honour. It speaks to courage, commitment, and the willingness to reimagine what is possible—not just for ourselves, but for others. Being a changemaker means understanding that transformation doesn’t always start with loud declarations—it often begins quietly, through listening, storytelling, and deep care.
For me, change happens when teachers-to-be and those already in the classroom begin to see themselves as cultural curators, as media mentors, as storytellers with the power to shape how children see the world and themselves. A changemaker works in the in-between spaces—between curriculum and community, between tradition and imagination—to create something more just, more inclusive, and more human.
For me, being a changemaker also means living into the truth that I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams. I honour their resilience by disrupting narratives that silence, and by amplifying stories that heal, teach, and connect. Every class I teach, every story I help bring to life, is part of that legacy—and part of reimagining what’s possible for the next generation.
How do you tailor your teaching approach to engage and inspire today's students?
I build each unit around the people in the room. I honour their lived experiences, their cultural knowledge, and their creative instincts. I’ve never taught the same class twice—because no two cohorts are the same. I lean into flexibility, co-creation, and storytelling as methods of engagement. My students don’t just learn about media—they become makers of it. They leave my class having authored children’s books, filmed their own stories, and curated resources that reflect their communities and commitments. It’s hands-on, heart-forward learning.