A diagnosis of no hope
Early this week I accidentally met an old friend who is also a veteran teacher. In our short interaction, he shared with me, with a sense of gratification, the good news that after a long wait and prolonged struggle, he has been elevated to what is arguably one of the toughest jobs in the world - the coveted post of school principal.
Following the traditional exchange of pleasantries, I could not resist the temptation of asking him about the business that often does not escape the attention of educators – the overall health of his school. Apart from the data I had gathered about the school from other sources, I wanted to get first hand and reliable information from the man at the helm. I wanted him to confirm or allay my fears about the school. In particular, I enquired on how he is settling, how well positioned is his institution in terms of serving students well and how he is navigating the challenges confronting him. Eish! That was his quick reaction, to the vexing questions which seemed to have fallen on his head like a tonne of bricks.
His dramatic switch of mood – from the excitement that greeted our meeting to a sombre mood said it all – a clear announcement of a diagnosis of no hope. He struck me as a troubled soul exposed to a toxic and unproductive school environment. I could easily relate with his predicament. In my career as an education superintendent, I have personally experienced the excruciating pain of inheriting a dysfunctional school culture.
A typical culture of a low achieving school is one in which there are very low expectations for teachers and students and where no one takes accountability and personal responsibility for the negative environment which deprives of students and teachers the opportunity to express their talents and unleash their potential. It is a depressing culture where everyone seems to know what is wrong but no once accepts responsibility choosing instead to settle for the convenience of passing the buck to the next easy target. Rachel E. Curtis and Elizabeth A. City succinctly captured the blame game in a dysfunctional school system when they wrote: “The culture in a low improving school was consistently one of hopelessness and low expectations for teachers and students. Worst of all, (my emphasis) the principal blamed the teachers; the teachers blamed the students, creating a vicious cycle. Even parents, I must add, blamed the teachers and the teachers blamed the parents and the ‘system’.
The system refers to the policy makers, central ministry officials and all those responsible for provision of resources needed to keep a school going. I remember vividly during my short stint as Kweneng District’s acting regional education director where no single Kgotla gathering would go without parents singling out this one junior secondary school in one of the villages for its failure to uphold the right standards. The appalling conditions at the school in question, which were partly compounded by COVID-19, could not permit the school to execute its functions well. There were challenges on many fronts. Everything had fallen below par from the simplest of things to the most complex. There was nagging and incessant breakdown of the questionable ‘newly installed pots’ in the cafeteria, issues of school governance and instructional practices in academic arena, unhygienic and unkempt school surroundings, congestion in the student hostels and the dilapidated infrastructure in both academic and staff halls of residence. Rightly so, the parents from the entire school catchment area were livid and had lost faith in the school. The morale of the teachers was at its lowest ebb and school managers who were supposed to be in the fore front of the process of change and renewal, did not seem to gel as a team and more importantly, seemed unclear about where to begin.
Pressure from the parents continued to mount and all eyes were on me as the new Captain of the Ship to engineer a process of change. What compounded my woes was that at every Kgotla opportunity, the Member of Parliament for the area promised parents that the acting director (referring to myself) would ‘mop up the mess and fix what was broken. Based on hopes and expectations raised, it was clear to me that mission failure was not an acceptable option. I am now saying to our dear principals wherever they are deployed that mission failure is indeed not an option.
Granted, all schools have daunting problems but the problems are not insurmountable. Leadership makes the impossible possible. I immediately impressed upon the school that change is not all about boiling the whole ocean but orchestrating a series of sustained little changes. Luckily the principal and his team were amenable to the idea and together we embarked on a problem solving journey. Often people cite budgetary constraints as a hindrance to change. But not all changes require money.
Some require just a change of attitude and mind
sets. With renewed commitment (change of attitude) plus a small budget provision, the school began to look after its surrounding better and general clean up campaigns were embarked upon with monotonous regularity. The boys and girls hostels, which were an eye sore and a source of grave concern to parents, became a little cleaner and more habitable. The challenge of provision of additional hostels, which required a huge budget, however, remained unsolved at the time. But at least one was delighted that the school paid a little attention to matters of hygiene both in the hostels and cafeteria.
They say cleanliness is next to Godliness and any school that cannot keep its environment clean cannot be expected to do well academically. Learners who love their environment and take care of themselves tend to take their school and learning seriously. Operating within the limits of a small maintenance budget, we began to tackle the big stuff – giving the staff room and academic blocks a facelift. We painted every corner of the academic area and this gave the school a real sense of renewal and hope.
The staff room became my prime target. This is where teachers hold meetings, relax, plan lessons and mark the students’ work. And the staff room – the teacher board room – must have all the necessary paraphernalia to enable teachers discharge their teaching responsibilities with distinction. I mobilised funds from the ministry to secure additional chairs and get the school to install library like reading cubicles for every member of staff.
Acting outside the box, I wrote and called to solicit help from sister ministries to secure second hand furniture which, was in good condition but was about to be disposed off because it did not meet their standards. And by the time I left Kweneng, you could be forgiven for mistaking the staff room for a fully-fledged board room. Unfortunately I did not stay long enough to embark on the second phase of the reform process, which involved instructional core issues of delivery in the classroom. To my dear new principal now feeling overwhelmed and experiencing a sense of disempowerment, I say make that bold and educated guess. There is still no silver bullet.