But that's the kind of educator Vic Chapman is - a man who has left a mark on many pupils — and the system itself. The 83-year-old was the first Indigenous person in NSW to qualify as a teacher, and later became the state's first Aboriginal school principal.

"Something really great happened in 1953, there was a 100 per cent increase and there were two of us in the system," Chapman laughs. "Of course now we have greater numbers than that, and since I started I've seen bachelors and masters and PhDs, and Indigenous people not only in education but in all of the faculties - it's quite a thrill."

Chapman was the youngest of 15 children born to parents who couldn't read or write. They understood the power of education, however, despite many in their outback community believing "the village school was where education finished".

"For Indigenous people, men would work with sheep and Aboriginal girls went to work in domestic [duties]," he says. "I was very fortunate to depart from that pattern."

It was encouragement from a teacher at Goodooga Public School that broke the mould for Chapman. Mr McKinnon saw "academic promise" and urged him to sit for a scholarship so he could attend senior school.

"In early 1945 I hopped on the back of a truck with all of my new possessions - the first time I had new shoes, new clothes - and headed off to Dubbo High School," he says.

The experience opened his eyes to the world, including seeing a train for the first time.

"I wondered how people could travel on that thing. It was a frightening experience for the rest of the family, but I felt elated."

Chapman was in his element in front of a blackboard and even though he was reminded now and again about "where he came from", he says schools were always "very, very good" to him.

"When I got in a position of authority where I could have a say about what happened in a school situation, I would constantly remind my co-workers what a great responsibility they had to 'bend the twig', as Mr McKinnon had done for me," he says.

"I believe education is the way out of the big hole into which we have fallen or been pushed. Particularly for Indigenous people, because we've gone through that period when regulations almost had monopoly control over the lives of Indigenous people. Regulation which stated with whom we could associate, where we could live, had control over our money, control over our kids.

"In the school system when I became a principal we had two handbooks which governed the conduct of schools. In the book related to personnel it stated that a person of Indigenous descent could be barred from the public school system on the protest of one non-indigenous member of the community - and that was in the teachers' handbook up until 1972."

Chapman has lived through "a lot of Indigenous history" and recalls a time when he was told where he could and couldn't sit in a cinema, when a shop assistant served him last despite being second in line, and times of discord when he wed his non-Indigenous wife Ruth - whom he's still happily married to 60 years on.

"They're not good, but they're better," says Ruth, talking about how times have changed.

In 1980 and 1982 two key government policies were developed to emphasise the importance of building on cultural heritage, and involving Aboriginal communities and students in education.

"Schools were quite willing to engage in mandatory policy about Aboriginal education and studies, but they didn't know how to proceed," Chapman says.

"The other 'fly in the ointment' was the Indigenous community hesitated to be involved in the school system because of negative experiences."

While there are still difficulties, he believes programs taught in schools, such as Close The Gap, are working towards bringing the community together.

Mid conversation the phone rings and it's one of Chapman's former pupils Rob, with whom he now enjoys a spot of fishing every Thursday.

When asked what his legacy would be, Ruth pipes up and says it was obvious: "ex-students just flock around him".

"They're friends - they're more than just ex-students. He just sort of has that charisma. I wish he'd use it on me sometimes," she adds, laughing.

Phil Evans is another former pupil who keeps in contact. He was taught by Chapman in 1956 at Waniora Public School and reconnected after seeing him on a YouTube clip for reconciliation. After a varied career Evans is now a Law Professor at Perth's Curtin University and wanted to write to Chapman to tell him how satisfied he was because "he found teaching the most rewarding".

"In that letter was a photograph of him from 1956 in the Waniora cricket team ... and a copy of the year 5 farewell to year 6, and on the program was Ruth's autograph and my autograph," Chapman says.

In return the retired teacher-turned-artist sent the professor a print titled Pigibilla, which he felt would strike a chord.

"In Uralla [dialect] it means how the echidna got its quills, and he would have read that story at Waniora in the 1950s," he says.

With the Illawarra's population booming in the post-war period, Chapman explains, the 1950s were a time of large classrooms and few resources for the teachers - staff were provided with a box of chalk and a few books for classes of up to 50 children, many of whom had little English.

"The government provided supplementary readers ... one of them was Australian Legendary Tales by Kate Lang Parker with the story of Pigibilla."

Over the years Chapman taught at various schools around the Illawarra, including Woonona, Pleasant Heights, Thirroul, Berkeley and Gwynneville public schools. Since retiring his art has kept him busy. It was another school connection - Jim Thompson, the father of a former student - who sparked his love for art when he dragged Chapman to a pottery and ceramics class in the 1960s.

Looking back on his life Chapman seems content with what he has achieved.

"I'm lucky I suppose," he says. "I'm still standing and still got a couple of marbles rattling around and plenty of things to do and we're rich - we measure our wealth in friends, so we're very rich."