Day 6: Git You That Edge-u-kashun
Day 6: Back to Stanza Bopape Secondary School
Today we went back to the schools in Mamelodi. Though we went equipped to jump back in the classroom bond with the students and learn from the staff, we were met with the reliability of the school political system. We were able to actually do some instruction for about thirty minutes, but alas, it was a temporary joy. For those who are not teachers or may be unclear about what I may be talking about I think the following visual will due my point justice:
I am writing about this not to defame the school nor should it directly reflect on the SAI program. I bring it up to point out that with all of th controversy about education reform in America, thousands of miles away, some schools in South Africa are going through the same things and at time in even more extreme conditions. Over crowding (30-70 students per teacher!), poor facilities, underfunding and lack of resources, bureaucracy, impotent leadership, poverty, etc. In fact when we first came to the country, we were met with headlines like:
The Limpopo textbook blame game!
Limpopo textbook: Angie knew all along
Limpopo Textbook Crisis - Whistleblower Out in the Cold
Limpopo Textbooks Still Outstanding
This was in regards to a story about a province in South Africa, that after half of the school year, had still not received their text books.
Yes, it sounds like schools I have visited, taught at and or heard about here at home. Although today's experience has shortened our experience here in Mamelodi, I am glad I have the opportunity to see both sides of the educational system here in South Africa. I would be very remiss if I had come and it was a simple teaching experience. I'm glad I got the opportunity to teach, observe instruction and witness school politics in action.
PS. As a side note before I left the classroom today. A young man who was fooling around almost the whole experience (not answering questions, not telling us him name, etc) was joking around with a classmate as we were giving things out. When I addressed him he ignored me and continued to speak in isizulu to his neighbor. However, as he was looking at me and playing around the little bit of english he did use "nigga" in his sentence.
In similar teacher fashion as the other day I asked him what word did he use. At that point, he became quiet. I asked him again. He thought of something else to tell me. I told him, no, that was not the word he used. I then encouraged him to repeat it, to the point of discomfort. Yes, reader, I have been called a "nigga" not once but twice on this trip.
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