Lessons from schools in the 1940s
DEAR EDITOR — It is hard to think of any article on SA’s economic prospects that does not specify education as the key to the future. It seems to be taken as axiomatic that the solution to all ills lies in making dysfunctional schools serviceable. It’s an easy way for politicians and columnists to avoid facing up to a more complex (and threatening) analysis.
A recent example comes from the much-admired Graça Machel.
In an article entitled Education Holds the Key to Africa’s Development, she wrote that “economists like to debate precisely why education makes a difference. But the real reason is simple enough and can be summarised in one word — and that word is empowerment.” For her, education has the capacity to break the intergenerational cycle of poverty.
However, the relationship between education and economic growth is far more complex; there are many elements and it cannot be simplified.
It is true that education is an essential component of growth, both for the individual and for nations, but placing too great an emphasis on it creates undue stress for learners and teachers. Many teachers are despondent in the face of frequent changes of policy and new pressures, including those from social networking. The introduction of systemic testing with its focus on results and inherent compulsion to teach to the test is becoming another source of anxiety.
It is not for me to prescribe solutions to the problems of schooling, and I’m not capable of so doing, but I share some best practice from my own schooldays. I was a schoolboy in King Edward VII School, Johannesburg, from 1939 to 1950, the decade of the Second World War. There were very few male teachers as many young men were up north fighting fascism. Married women teachers carried the load for schools, and they had no rights; appointments could only be temporary, they had no pension or medical aid schemes, no housing allowance, no bonuses, no long leave or study leave. Salaries were very low. They were not eligible for promotion. Resources were extremely limited.
Nevertheless, Johannesburg was a great city in which to grow up (for whites, I hasten to add, to our shame).
Every suburb had its public preparatory school. These schools were basic in their design; their playgrounds were tiny, too small to host football matches for which local public parks were used. Forty children to a class was standard. Nevertheless, the education was sound; all became literate and numerate, most with ambition to study further.
This was achieved through the professionalism and public spiritedness of the teachers, and these are sine qua non for good schools. Among other factors were the aspirations for development by the residents of those working- and middle-class suburbs and sound local government.
Parents recognised they had responsibilities with regard to their children’s progress and good discipline was valued. Living in the northeast, one was hardly aware of the government, certainly not of the department of education, its officials or its policies. Schools did what they had to do.
This is perhaps in contrast to the situation today, in which Ms Machel sees “An unfortunate tendency to view the education crisis as a problem for education ministries”.
Dr Nick Taylor has said our schools are teaching children lazy work habits and a very questionable attitude to expertise. This is frightening.
I am sure that my teachers would have agreed with American philosopher Michael Walzer, who said: “For those with a sense of vocation, the first reward is in the performance itself, in the knowledge that a job is being well done and that they are known for doing it well.
“Status comes to those in schools with staff rooms known for an ethical code, a social bond, a pattern of mutual regulation and self-discipline.
“Intellectual curiosity, training of some rigour and knowledge of intellectual disciplines are features of teachers gathering in such places.”
Anti-intellectualism has no place in education.