Teaching - The Wonder of Watching Caterpillars Turn Into Butterflies
High school in South Africa spans a period of five years.
I spent the first three of these at a boarding school.
Why? I hear you ask.
I read too many stories about British schooldays when I was a youngster, so I believed it would be one long midnight feast and adventure upon adventure.
Reality was a far cry from that and so, my final two years were spent back in day school with my friends from the Junior school.
The problem was that they had moved on with their lives and friendships and there was no room for me.
I did what misfit teenagers the world over have done - I acted out, to draw attention to myself and soon found myself in a great deal of trouble.
My parents could not cope.
What had happened to their well-behaved child? Who was this stranger that had come home in her place? Everyone thought I was heading for a fall.
Everyone that is, except for Miss Evans, my English teacher.
She was a diminutive woman with the spirit of a Jedi warrior.
Her passion for English was where we connected and her classes were a light in the gloom of those days.
It was through her care and wisdom that I realised I could achieve anything I wanted.
Through her encouragement I applied for and was awarded a bursary to study and eventually became an English teacher.
I left school and although I was grateful to her, I did not give her much more thought until a few years ago when I heard that she had retired from teaching.
On a whim I wrote to thank her for the part she had played in my life.
I was so surprised when I received a reply.
This was part of what she wrote: I was so touched by your letter.
Teaching, for me, has always been its own reward, but yours was one of the few thank-you notes that I have ever received from a pupil.
If truth be told, teaching in South Africa has become a beleaguered and embattled profession over the past fifteen years.
Schools try to muddle along without the requisite number of teachers and many schools have no principal.
In areas where funding exists, parent bodies appoint teachers, but where funding is a problem, inadequate teaching occurs by sometimes untrained teachers.
A year ago scores of teachers took to the streets to strike in an attempt to persuade the government to look at adequate working conditions and benefits for its members.
Recently, temporary teachers appointed with a promise of permanent appointments in the near future have summarily been dismissed, leaving pupils stranded and teachers looking for work.
So, why is it that we still teach? Why did we decide to become teachers? In my case it was a special teacher who believed in me and saw my potential.
It need not have been a real teacher, but could have been a Mr Chips or Sidney Poitier in the movieTo Sir, With Love.
Or it could have been Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society encouraging you to Carpe Diem - Seize the day.
Some years back a dear friend gave me a poster which now has pride of place in my classroom.
It reads: The Wonder of Teaching is Watching Caterpillars turn into Butterflies - and that sums it up for me.
When I think of what it is that keeps me going back, year after year, these are some of my reasons:
I knew the hours would be long and that without the holidays we would not survive.
I knew it would be stressful and often thankless.
But, I also knew that I wanted to make a difference; that this was not just a job, but a vocation, a calling.
I spent the first three of these at a boarding school.
Why? I hear you ask.
I read too many stories about British schooldays when I was a youngster, so I believed it would be one long midnight feast and adventure upon adventure.
Reality was a far cry from that and so, my final two years were spent back in day school with my friends from the Junior school.
The problem was that they had moved on with their lives and friendships and there was no room for me.
I did what misfit teenagers the world over have done - I acted out, to draw attention to myself and soon found myself in a great deal of trouble.
My parents could not cope.
What had happened to their well-behaved child? Who was this stranger that had come home in her place? Everyone thought I was heading for a fall.
Everyone that is, except for Miss Evans, my English teacher.
She was a diminutive woman with the spirit of a Jedi warrior.
Her passion for English was where we connected and her classes were a light in the gloom of those days.
It was through her care and wisdom that I realised I could achieve anything I wanted.
Through her encouragement I applied for and was awarded a bursary to study and eventually became an English teacher.
I left school and although I was grateful to her, I did not give her much more thought until a few years ago when I heard that she had retired from teaching.
On a whim I wrote to thank her for the part she had played in my life.
I was so surprised when I received a reply.
This was part of what she wrote: I was so touched by your letter.
Teaching, for me, has always been its own reward, but yours was one of the few thank-you notes that I have ever received from a pupil.
If truth be told, teaching in South Africa has become a beleaguered and embattled profession over the past fifteen years.
Schools try to muddle along without the requisite number of teachers and many schools have no principal.
In areas where funding exists, parent bodies appoint teachers, but where funding is a problem, inadequate teaching occurs by sometimes untrained teachers.
A year ago scores of teachers took to the streets to strike in an attempt to persuade the government to look at adequate working conditions and benefits for its members.
Recently, temporary teachers appointed with a promise of permanent appointments in the near future have summarily been dismissed, leaving pupils stranded and teachers looking for work.
So, why is it that we still teach? Why did we decide to become teachers? In my case it was a special teacher who believed in me and saw my potential.
It need not have been a real teacher, but could have been a Mr Chips or Sidney Poitier in the movieTo Sir, With Love.
Or it could have been Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society encouraging you to Carpe Diem - Seize the day.
Some years back a dear friend gave me a poster which now has pride of place in my classroom.
It reads: The Wonder of Teaching is Watching Caterpillars turn into Butterflies - and that sums it up for me.
When I think of what it is that keeps me going back, year after year, these are some of my reasons:
- It's that barefoot drama student who keeps coming back to say hello, even years after she has finished her training;
- It's bumping into a past pupil in town, who says, " You encouraged me to keep writing, and I have just published my first collection of poetry"
- It's a child who pops in on a Monday morning to wish you a belated Happy Mother's Day
- It's watching the lights go on in the eyes of a Senior class when they eventually get Lady Macbeth;
- It's when one of my pupils struggles against, but overcomes her impoverished, single-parent background; first works for a couple of years to afford it and then becomes a human rights lawyer, so that she can carry on fighting for her people
I knew the hours would be long and that without the holidays we would not survive.
I knew it would be stressful and often thankless.
But, I also knew that I wanted to make a difference; that this was not just a job, but a vocation, a calling.