I graduated from Monash University’s Frankston campus in 2001 with First Class Honours. A couple of weeks ago, I found myself back there — a good twenty-five years later.
Walking around, the campus felt like two things at once. So much had changed. So much was exactly the same. It was a curious feeling — happy, sad, amazed, all at the same time. Underneath all of it, a deep gratitude for how far I’ve come from the day I walked out of there for the last time.
Bringing my family
The campus itself hasn’t changed as much as you’d think. A few new buildings have gone up in wooded corners I didn’t remember, but the main building where we had our lectures and labs is exactly as I left it. So is the football pitch — where our team, Killer Cactus, picked up back-to-back champions’ medals from the student union tournament. Some things you just don’t forget.
I got to bring my family through the same campus this trip. Twenty-five years ago I couldn’t have imagined that. I even walked them past the cafeteria where we used to demolish plates of chips — that’s what the Australians call fries — during our breaks between classes. That alone would have been enough for the day.
But I also felt a sadness I wasn’t quite prepared for. My mum wasn’t with us this time. She did visit the campus when I graduated — I still have that memory of her being there — but she’s the reason I made it there in the first place. The sacrifices she made, the things she had to do to give me the chance to study, are what put me on that campus at all.
Walking through it again, I found myself wondering how she would feel to know where I am now. What her son ended up doing. Where the road she started me down actually led. I would give a lot to be able to tell her.
The office I never left
The moment that hit me the hardest was standing in front of my research office, inside Struan House. Same name, same room, same door. Twenty-five years ago I was in there every day. Writing my honours thesis, coding, reading, staying late, coming in on weekends.
I stood there and did a strange thing. I imagined someone walking up to me — the version of me leaving that office one late night in 2001 — and telling him:
“One day you’ll be in the Java Platform team at Oracle. You’ll work on Java technology — only on Java — helping enterprises that build on it. And you’ll be leading one of the cloud services at Oracle.”
Twenty-five-year-old me would have thought that person was crazy.
But here I am. Senior Director for Java Management Service, working in the Java Platform group at Oracle. That imaginary conversation isn’t imaginary — it’s my job.
What I took away
Standing there, I felt this mix of disbelief, amazement, and reflection. And more than anything, a renewed hope.
There were a lot of challenges getting here. What lies ahead feels different now — not so much a stack of new challenges to survive, but a set of opportunities to shape. My career may stay in technology or move into something adjacent to it, but the thread I want to keep pulling on is the same: giving back to the community, and helping the next generation of technologists find their way.
Standing outside Struan House, I remembered something important: I’ve done this before. I didn’t expect the outcomes I got. I get to do it again — with the experience I’ve gained, the networks I’ve built, and the knowledge I’ve picked up — but this time with a much clearer sense of purpose.
That last part matters most.