Helping rebuild refugees' trust in humanity comes with a unique set of challenges for former Dunedin teacher Tony Masterton.
Mr Masterton, who teaches pupils aged 8 to 11, is one of about 15 teachers based at the Mangere Refugee Resettlement Centre, where refugees of all ages are taught some of the skills needed to adjust to New Zealand life.
His job is as much about building his pupils' confidence and restoring their faith in humanity as it is about improving their English.
After spending the first 28 years of his life in Dunedin, he was excited his home town had been chosen as a resettlement location.
"I love the place and I am really excited that some of my students are getting to go down there.''
He spoke of both the unique challenges teaching refugees and just how gratifying the job could be.
"It's challenging, but at the same time it's really rewarding, especially ... to see the difference in people from when they arrive in New Zealand [to see how they are when they leave the centre].''
A difficult part of his job was reading about some of the traumatic things the children had seen.
"As a parent myself and having grown up in New Zealand, and Dunedin in particular, where my childhood was very blessed, I just thank god that I didn't have to go through what many of these kids have been through.''
"Some of them have had some absolute horror stories in their past and as an adult looking at that and thinking about your own children, you are so grateful.''
The trauma the children had been through meant they could react very differently to things that meant very little to New Zealand children.
"I have a distinct memory of when I first started when I had come from a background teaching in a more regular kind of school.''
It was common there to take misbehaving children outside to tell them off, rather than making a "big deal'' in front of their friends.
"The first time I attempted to do that here, the kid basically turned in to a quivering shaking jelly-like mess on the floor.
"I had to almost drag him to come out the door, because he thought I was taking him outside to beat him.''
Another example was the children's reaction to fire drills, which, because of previous experience, was often to "panic'' and try to find their parents.
The most rewarding thing about the job was seeing the massive transformation the children went through in the six weeks they were at the centre.
"It's really rewarding to see someone [who] was very scared-looking when they first came in to the classroom leave here feeling confident and actually looking forward going to their new school.''
He continued to be impressed by their eagerness to learn, which included lining up for class as early as 7am in the morning, even though school did not start until 9am.
"For example, if we didn't hand out homework one night, the children would be all calling out for it: ‘Where's our homework?' and some times asking for ‘More homework, we want more homework'.''
He encouraged Dunedin to show its friendly face and not to be afraid.
"They are here because they have to leave a horrible situation in their own country, they are not here planning to do anything wrong.''
Mr Masterton and the other teachers work in one corner of the centre, which is on the edge of Mangere, a typical south Auckland suburb dotted with state houses and the odd palm tree.
His prefab classroom, where he teaches refugees aged from 8 to 11, is just like a typical New Zealand classroom and full of colourful pictures drawn by his pupils.
It sits right next to the ageing World War 2 barracks, which once housed United States soldiers on rest and relaxation, where the 160 refugees at the centre live.
The living quarters have been left to deteriorate, paint peeling away from their wooden cladding, before the construction of a 192-bed facility, which is part of a $24.7million revamp of the centre, expected to open in mid-June.
But the refugees are not complaining.
Anything is better than the war zones and refugee camps where they lived before arriving in New Zealand.
As we arrived, a group of children were playing football in the corner and mothers were hanging up washing.
Looking at the refugees, there were few signs of any of the trauma they had been through, with most full of hope and ready to share a smile.
Any expectations the centre would be surrounded by guards and barbed wire fence were quickly dispelled and the refugees were free to come and go.
Mr Masterton's boss at the Auckland University of Technology-run Centre for Refugee Education, Maria Hayward, said its staff were faced with "heart-touching'' moments on a daily basis.
An example could be when a mother decorated a cake with a heart, saying it represented hope for the future, another could be the look of gratitude on refugees' faces.
"It's touching and it's intense.
"Moments like that, when you hear that, you want to cry.
"There is an intensity about working in this place and it hooks you in, because you are with people who will never be superficial.''
Those touching moments and seeing hope build among refugees were among the reasons why there was such low turnover among its staff.
Like Mr Masterton, she noticed a "huge'' difference in the way the refugees behaved from when they first arrived till when they left.
"Day one there is a sea of suspicion in front of me, which I totally understand.''
"Why should they trust me?
"All the people in authority in their previous lives have let them down, including teachers.''
She had read of the fear the refugees had lived with, which included children worrying whether they would be raped by their teacher.
"What New Zealand child would have that fear?''
Things completely change over the course of their six-week stay.
"By about week three the atmosphere changes here, even by week two.
"People say: ‘Gosh the teachers are kind, you can make mistakes and nobody punishes you, you can actually ask questions and the teachers seem to like that. Nobody is going to hit me, they don't allow people in the class to put me down because of my religion, culture or gender'.''
The suspicion was completely gone by the time they held a farewell event at the end of the six weeks.
"There is noise.
"The kids are fooling around a bit.
"It's what you expect anywhere in New Zealand where a crowd gathers for an event.''
Before leaving the centre for their new homes, their biggest worries were over learning English, and for parents, children were their number one priority.
"For refugees there is always anxiety just before they leave here, because change in their past has always represented danger, horror and trauma.''
But that fear was accompanied by excitement: "At last we are going to have a home, we can cook our own meals, we can start thinking about a future of hope for ourselves and our children.''
In the long term, finding work was a big priority.
"They all come here thinking: ‘I want to get a job, any job, I don't want to live off help'.''
She encouraged Dunedin people to treat refugees with understanding and go out of their way to welcome them.
"The next stage is to offer opportunities, to offer employment [and] support people in training programmes and language programmes.''
