What I Learned in South Africa

(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.