Motivation

One of the most impactful aspects of working with my South African colleagues is interacting with the women teachers. Many of them are older than I am, are caretakers to several children, and have less education than I do. A few years ago, a teacher told me, while laughing, that I chose my parents wisely. He was right. My educational and career trajectory is largely a result of systemic factors beyond my control, just as the South African teachers’ lack of education and career opportunities is a product of their circumstances. This year, in facilitating workshops on physics topics, I realized that most of the physics teachers are male; they told me that most of their good students are male. The girls don’t do well on the exams and thus don’t pursue physics or engineering careers. The girls are just not interested, the male teachers said. We discussed what can be done about the lack of gender parity in science, how to encourage girls, how to open up space for them in male-dominated fields. Thus, when I find women teachers, it’s especially rewarding to work with them and validate their importance as role models for all their students, and especially the girls.

 

Provocation

 

This paper was tacked to the wall of a classroom in Port Elizabeth. It was surprising to see, yet apt. After wrapping up a busy school year in the States, I never feel quite ready to come to South Africa and start the workshops. If only I had more time to prepare, if only I were able to be more ready, then the South African teachers would benefit more. As our workshops start, I can’t shake the overwhelming sense that our time with these teachers is only the tiniest fraction of what is ultimately necessary. Southern Africa is depending on these teachers to prepare children for the future. The teachers need support so they can be maximally effective. They need regular professional development opportunities, better facilities, appropriate equipment and supplies, smaller class sizes, supportive mentorship from their supervisors, and an effective Department of Education overseeing it all. The teachers require – and deserve – so much more than I can provide.  I do what I can, but it isn’t enough.  But, doing something is important, even when it’s imperfect.

 

Cooperation

In Nelspruit, we had twice as many teachers show up as we were expecting to have attend our workshops.  Our eyes bulged out a bit as they kept walking into the room, more and more bodies in a small space, about 160 seventh grade science teachers in total.  We only had enough classroom space to divide the teachers into two groups, so each group was still quite large. This was my first time facilitiating a workshop with so many atteendes, but I realized that this is exactly what the South African teachers deal with on a regular basis. They have 60, 70, 80 students in each class every day.  Straining my voice, scrambling to organize the materials, squeezing between the dozens of chairs crammed in the room, it was exhausting to try to facilitiate hands-on activities with so many people simultanesouly. As difficult as this was, it proved to be an invaluable means for me to get a sense of the challenges these teachers face. The interactions between teachers at each table, their cooperation and their willingness to ask each other for support, turned out to be a nice side effect of our large groups. The participants engaged in frequent conversations about pedagogy and the feasiblity of doing activities with their students. The people working at each table, initially strangers, hit it off quickly and soon became good, collaborative teams.  The teachers had good ideas and practical advice to share with each other.  While the week didn’t go as we originally expected, it turned out well.

 

Veronica Ledoux

 

Mentors  

Yunus Peer and Thokozani Mteshane are the essence of TABSA.  They work indefatigably to ensure that Southern African teachers are supported, feel valued, and recognize the importance of their work.  They do this, year after year, because they believe that the children of Southern Africa are important.  They know that these young people will shape the future of their countries.  Yunus and Thoko recognize that where people are not educated, they are easily exploited and that an ignorant society is the breeding ground for intolerance and violence.  Every year, I only see a small glimpse of just how many logistical details are taken care of behind the scenes by Yunus and Thoko, and even that tiny bit is astoundingly complex.  They don’t do this organizational work to get credit or for any sort of personal gain.  Their diligence, selflessness, and humility serve as a model to me of how to contribute positively to the world.

 

Fun

Saul, who works at the University of Swaziland as an In-Service Education Coordinator and supports the Ministry of Education’s teachers by providing professional development for the country’s teachers, stood up to speak at the closing ceremony after our very last workshop.  He’d been a quiet presence in the back of my physics workshop for most of the week.  He’s been to plenty of workshops and I wasn’t sure that he’d really learned anything new from me, so I didn’t know what to expect from his remarks.  Saul began by holding up a stick and explaining that it used to be an essential piece of equipment for all teachers. He explained that teachers would be afraid to go to class without a stick because it was the only way they could control the students, and that corporal punishment was taken for granted as a necessary part of education.  He described the ubiquity of brutality, sometimes merely a threat and sometimes a reality, as a means of maintaining order in the classroom.   As riveting as I found his comments, I didn’t yet understand his point.

Then, Saul held up two strips of a plastic grocery bag, ran his fingers through them, and demonstrated how they repel each other, just as I’d shown him in our physics workshop.  He used a Styrofoam cup to repel both strips and explained that by using such simple materials teachers could engage students in hands-on activities and thus hold their attention without the threat of violence.  He spoke about how static electricity could be a fascinating lesson that could hook students’ interest and thus motivate them to behave and pay attention without corporal punishment.  Saul went on to describe a paradigm shift in education, away from intimidation and towards positive engagement with hands-on activities.  I was astounded.  I never really know how my workshops will be received, what will be useful to these teachers, what will resonate with them.  Saul’s description of the importance of engagement via interesting activities is something that I take for granted in my teaching in the US, but isn’t part of pedagogy in Southern Africa.  Our workshops are always full of laughter and of teachers being silly as they learn.  By allowing teachers an opportunity to experience the joy of learning, we encourage them to create a fun atmosphere in their own classrooms.  In our time here, we have done just a little bit.  Perhaps we have planted some seeds that will grow after we leave.  I know that these teachers, with their spirit and commitment, have planted seeds in me that I will take back to my classroom in the United States.