(published in The Business of Teaching [South Africa]
volume 1, number 4, Fourth Term 2011: 7)
In August, I visited South
Africa as part of the Toyota International Teacher Program, a professional
development opportunity for 24 U.S. educators to learn about environmental
conservation and increase cultural awareness. We toured the country, visiting
museums in Johannesburg, landfills in Durban, and game parks in Kruger. In Cape
Town, we partnered with South African teachers, visiting their communities,
schools and homes.
I applied to this program to
increase my knowledge of environmental education. I hoped to develop new
curriculum, and I wanted to see firsthand the steps South Africa is taking to
use green energy, reduce her carbon footprint, and boost ecotourism. In
addition, I was eager to gain a deeper understanding of the social justice issues
that profoundly impact so many aspects of South African life. I couldn’t wait
to go on a game drive, see a rugby match, and experience my first braai, and I
spent the weeks before the trip reading Paton, Mandela, and all the travel books
I could get my hands on.
But nothing I read could
prepare me for what I saw in South Africa. I knew life in the townships would
be hard. I knew what percent of the population live with HIV/AIDS, the average
life expectancy, and how many languages are spoken throughout the country - but
these are merely statistics. What I could not know or predict was the
indomitable spirit of the people. I didn’t expect the extraordinary energy of
the land, nor did I anticipate the forgiveness and the courage I witnessed
throughout every community we visited.
One of the highlights of the
trip was my visit to Macassar High, a township school in the Western Cape
serving a majority colored population. With pride, Principal Yusuf Abrahams
showed us his school – the weight room, the science and computer labs, and the lunch
room. From the huge key ring his in hand, he knew precisely which key opened
which security door, padlock, and gate.
After the tour, I stopped by
the biology classroom of Alicia Keet, my ZA teaching partner in this shared
program. The families of Alicia’s students struggle with poverty, drugs, and
unemployment, but Macassar High is doing wonderful things for the students and
the community. The Eco and Bio Clubs maintain an indiginous garden. Student-painted murals adorn the
concrete walls of the classrooms. The drama club rehearses an original play in
the auditorium.
Alicia clearly loves her
school. She and her husband, fellow science teacher Julian, run the Model United
Nations program. They dedicate weekends and evenings to school projects, open
their home to former students, and they even spent their latest wedding
anniversary on a camping trip with Macassar students. I am inspired by teachers
like Alicia who hope to transform disadvantaged communities and seek to empower
those who struggle.
When I tell other teachers
that my school is in a children’s hospital, invariably their eyes grow wide and
I hear a collective sigh of sympathy. ‘It must be so difficult,’ they say. ‘I
could never do what you do.’
And I used to think my job
was hard. My school has unique challenges, since my students are patients at the
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital. They may be facing life-threatening
conditions such as cancer or organ transplants, and many suffer from social,
emotional, or cognitive setbacks because of their illnesses or treatments.
Yet Alicia, Julian, and
other ZA teachers face struggles that I could never imagine. My classroom has
heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. I have enough money to
buy books. My students are well-fed and clean, and they sleep in a safe bed
each night. My windows do not have iron bars and my stairwells do not need
padlocked security gates.
The reality is this: all teachers
face challenges on a daily basis, whether we’re in the US or in ZA. Do I wish
I’d never lost a student to cancer? Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever stop
working in the hospital, because I love what I do. Do I wish Alicia had enough
textbooks to give to every pupil? Or that her students never had to go to
school hungry? Of course. But these problems exist, and I’m grateful that such
passionate and talented people as Alicia have made the commitment to continue
teaching despite the hurdles thrown their way.
South Africa taught me that with
compassion and dedication, we all can overcome obstacles and make life better
for ourselves and those around us. My visit was a profoundly moving experience,
and I find myself reevaluating my perceptions of my own classroom, students,
teaching, and outlook on life. I will never again take for granted what I have or
where I teach.
I am honored to have met
you, South Africa. Thank you for inspiring me.