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This is an excerpt from Violet Joshua’s
book Heartbeats of change, published in 2000.
Pre-reading questions:
- Have you ever felt like a failure as
a teacher?
- Have you ever felt that the needs of
your learners were too much responsibility for you alone
to understand or deal with?
- Do your learners ever remind you of yourself
when you were still at school?
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A background to Violet Joshua’s
book.
In this book, Joshua describes her experiences
adjusting to teaching children very different from those to whom
she was accustomed. Although she had been teaching for nearly twenty
years by that time, she describes her reactions to her new group
of Grade 4 learners, most of whom came from an informal settlement
in the area. This group of learners had come from other schools,
and had been admitted into the school later than the other learners.
They had not been allocated a class teacher for two weeks.
She describes her second day with the
class.
I woke up the next morning with all my fears and
strange emotions still very much alive. Dressing took longer that
morning. Finally, I stood at my classroom door and waited for the
children to file in. Some seemed relieved to see me. Some still
had a guarded look. They were not sure of me and my intentions.
As I looked at each one walk in, my fear grew. I told them to sit
- smiles again - I did not smile. I opened the class register and
chose a name, “Busisiwe, what school were you at last year?”
... She rose and smiled, ... but she looked away
from me, breaking the momentary link, and her only answer was a
desperate silence: desperate because the child so obviously wanted
to say something ... Thinking that her behaviour was due to shyness,
I stole another look at the register and called out a name. A boy
stood.
“Robert, how old are you?”
Again, I was answered by an uncomfortable silence.
This time there was no smile. My heart sank. I was sure that I was
failing as a teacher. I felt so inadequate. There was no resource
book for this problem. What was I to do? Where was I to look? The
answers were there, all covered up deep within me - but I didn’t
know it then.
I tried questioning another child, but stopped
when I began noticing disturbing irregularities concerning their
cleanliness. Many of the children needed a bath. Some of them had
matted hair ... Teeth in many cases had not been brushed and more
than a few mouths needed an urgent visit to the dentist. There were
some children with open, oozing sores, badly in need of medication....
I needed air ... I quickly made an excuse to myself ... and left
the room ...
Without thinking, I rushed into Kim’s classroom.
... “Kim, I can’t do this. These children are filthy
and smelly and ... No! No!” I said, rushing out for air again.
Kim had all the problems that I had, but she seemed
to be coping, at least emotionally. I was not. Here again, I
needed to look inside myself. That girl was me, that
boy was me. If you had told me that on that day, I would have spat
in your eyes ... all I ever was back then, just angry.
I returned to my class. I did not know how I was
going to move among the children. Fortunately when I walked in,
they were drawing on the paper I had handed out earlier. I hadn’t
told them to draw but they probably knew that pieces of paper in
front of them signalled that they should draw. Maybe one of their
previous sitters had told them that. Anyway, I was just grateful
that they were working quietly. This brought me some more time to
try and sort out my feelings. Later, I walked very carefully among
the children, almost too scared to breathe. I continued asking questions,
but soon realised that the kids did not understand a word of English.
I abandoned the questioning and looked at their pictures.
I came to a child and stopped. He had drawn a
puppy. His work was good, making the brown pup look all soft and
cuddly. Its soft brown eyes looked almost alive. Impressed by the
drawing, I unthinkingly questioned the child in Zulu, and asked
him if he owned a dog like the one in the picture. For a moment
there was silence - then the boy smiled - a bright, eager smile.
“No, Teesha,” he answered, “I
like dogs very much but I cannot afford to buy one.”
All this was said in perfect Zulu. The class around
Patrick (that was his name) and I had become frozen in surprise.
We stopped our conversation and I looked around and was again met
by a sea of eyes, eyes that were now alive, sparkling, laughing
and even disbelieving. “At last!” they seemed to say.
“At last someone who understands us!” The tone and atmosphere
of the class had suddenly changed and become alive with children
eager to speak and be heard and understood.
It is amazing what reaction or co-operation
we can get out of others when they feel understood and respected
by us. Learners need to feel that their teacher understands
them. This makes them feel that they have a friend, an ally,
someone on their side, rather than an enemy, someone that
is against them.
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Joshua, in her book, tells of the way
in which she would confide in her cousin, Brenda, as a way of dealing
with all the conflicting emotions she was experiencing.
“Really, Brenda,” I was to say later,
“it was something else. I wish you could have been there to
witness the transformation.”
“Tell me,” said my cousin, pouring
herself more tea.
“The children spoke fluently and intelligently
in Zulu. It was as though some magic light had been switched on,”
I laughed.
... “Anyway, what did you guys talk about?”
she wanted to know.
“Oh, lots and lots of things, but you know
what Bren? I have a confession to make.”
“What do you mean? Why are you always so
dramatic?” laughed Brenda.
“Brenda, I mean it. I was excited, the kids
were excited, but something within me did not resonate. We just
talked, but without depth. I steered the conversation into safe
channels, discussing relatively banal issues. I really did not want
to know too much about the kids.”
“That’s very unlike you - you, who
always want to know all the intimate details of every child you
teach!”
“Seriously, they have too many problems,
and since I didn’t know where to begin helping, I was careful
to avoid asking questions that would elicit issues that would oblige
me to become involved. ...
I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the needs of the
children. I am afraid of what may be required of me - to do or not
to do.”
| It is so natural to feel overwhelmed and
helpless when faced with certain learners’ needs. Often,
we cannot do much to solve the problems and take away the negative
circumstances. In these situations, we need to remind ourselves
that being a good listener, being the learners’ friend,
and showing them that we understand them and care about how
their life circumstances are affecting them, is good enough. |
The next day I sat at my table and watched the
children draw yet another picture. Again I saw myself
as a complete failure as a teacher. I felt that I
was more of a nanny to the children. In desperation, I glanced through
my classroom window and sighed. The weather was glorious ... I watched
and became one with the birds ... Mentally I was free, free to be
away from this situation in which I found myself.
When I eventually refocused, I noticed a child
watching me. Her wistful expression tugged at my heart. “I’m
here,” it seemed to say. “I am alive.”
Something stirred deep within. I got bust with some work but later
caught another look. This time I saw hope, trust and some of my
own childhood uncertainties reflected in the girl’s eyes.
The stirring grew. The child’s name was Betty. She had drawn
a picture of a pretty house surrounded by beautiful flowers and
a variety of trees...
All learners need and want from us as
their teacher, as the basis and foundation of every lesson,
is to be noticed and recognised, acknowledged and understood,
and genuinely cared for.
Positive reinforcement can come in many
forms: a simple smile, a word of praise or a public acknowledgement.
The importance for positive reinforcement, for learners who
have little positive support at home, cannot be underestimated
as a powerful tool in the teaching and learning process. |
... One day I asked Betty about the picture she
had drawn. ... Well, she told me an amazing story ... Betty’s
story had a great impact on my life ... “At first I thought
that Betty had told me her story because she trusted me. Perhaps
she may have. But now I realise that she had told it to me because
I was distant enough not to become involved. Whatever her reasons,
her story made me look deeper into myself ...
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