Is Crawford a school for nobs or a great leap forward in progressive education? Nawaal Deane investigates
Growing up in government schools – school uniforms, a bleak and boring landscape seen through grimy windows, lunch bought over the fence – doesn’t prepare you for Crawford.
Visiting a Crawford College is like landing on another planet. The canteen is a food court. There is a Steers filled with youngsters at the counter dressed in an unconventional kind of school uniform – casual T-shirts and black jeans – buying burgers, while others order espresso from the Nino’s counters. This “multi-form” – black bottom, white top – creates a relaxed weekend atmosphere; you would never believe it is the beginning of a new term.
A guy with bleached, funky, spiked hair is playing pool with a girl wearing three earrings and platform takkies with a cellphone hooked on to her belt. This is the canteen of the future, where everything you need is at your fingertips.
This particular Crawford, the Sandton campus, is surrounded by a lush green lawn, where the magnificent white Renaissance building stands regal, looking more like a state building than a school. Tastefully decorated by Wetherleys in shades of green and burgundy, the staffroom resembles a hotel suite, where the smell of freshly baked muffins wafts from a fully fitted kitchen. The principal’s office feels like a cosy sitting room with a couch and an elegant coffee table. The toilets for students and teachers have marble checked floors with gold framed mirrors that give a whole new meaning to using the “throne”.
The school in La Lucia, KwaZulu-Natal, overlooks the ocean, where windows face the crashing of the waves and the sand is a stone’s throw from the classrooms. The Northern Province college consists of quaint thatched buildings which blend with the surrounding hills and give an impression of a resort rather than a school.
The bulletin boards bear notices giving students the times for archery practice. Other sports offered are rock-climbing, clay-pigeon shooting and fencing. In South Africa these sports are not widely practised, but it does create the impression that students are given the opportunity to find diverse interests which, typical at Crawford, are totally unconventional … Where do you shoot clay pigeons today anyway?
This unconventional approach to teaching was founded by Graham Crawford, an ex-King David physics teacher, who wanted to start a private school which nurtured self-esteem and uniqueness. His idea was to create an atmosphere where students felt confident to approach teachers as equals and not feel intimidated. Self-esteem as a priority on a school’s curriculum is quite an unusual attitude to perpetuate, but the fruits of his efforts paid off: the school was bought by Advtech in 1998 for R170-million.
“My son is in grade three and he has gained so much confidence and such good manners. He is taught to behave in different social situations and at the end of each term the teacher sits with me to discuss his progress,” says Sonya Coetzer, an enthusiastic “Crawfordian” parent.
The pre-primary school is filled with children from the age of three, who were marble-painting when I visited. Speech and drama are compulsory from pre-primary and the class is filled with costumes and bright props. Pre-primary students wear little burgundy and green uniforms and have timetables on the doors to prepare them for primary school.
“Why do we give one click to the mouse instead of two?” asks Debbie Fant, who teaches computers daily to the grade one class. The children sit on a mat in the front of the room and Fant helps them solve problems from programs in the Magic Bus. There are plenty of computers for the children to work on, and four months into the school year they can already change fonts and colours, click and drag and work on spreadsheets. “Children at Crawford are exposed to technology at this age so it becomes second nature for them,” says Fant.
The idea pops into my head that too much exposure to computers may not necessarily be good for the student. Crawford is planning to require senior pupils to have laptops instead of workbooks.
I ask a group of matriculants studying in the canteen what they think of the idea. They are indifferent. They do not believe it will affect their results. Furthermore, “laptops are expensive – and what will stop students from surfing the Net all day?” asks one matric student. “Some parents really have to sacrifice to send their children to this school,” says another, “and they just can’t afford laptops.”
My interest is piqued: how do these students who look so relaxed get any work done?
There aren’t prefects at Crawford but elected “role-models”, and they haven’t the power to discipline students. The job of these matriculants is to look good and represent the school at functions.
There is no detention, no uniforms, and my suspicion that the students are being bribed to look so happy forces me to investigate the matter. My sceptism is further enhanced when, as I am walking with teachers, some students run up to them and kiss and hug them hello. In the classrooms I visit, students are laughing and talking and I cannot believe that any discipline takes place. I mean, on the surface, no rules seem to be operating in the school.
It seems that discipline at Crawford operates on a demerit system, whereby certain “unacceptable” behaviour earns a demerit. The accumulation of three demerits will result in automatic expulsion. Smoking, vandalism, victimisation and disrespect to teachers will get you a demerit.
Even here, students are students, and they find a way to break the rules. “We have a smokers’ corner but students know that if they get caught they will be expelled,” says a grade eight student sitting on the lawn with a group of friends, who adds piously, “They are forced to take responsibility for their actions.”
A shocking statement made by Ryan Patter, an ex-Crawford student who was the 1999 Junior Mayor of Johannesburg, is that “No one fails at Crawford!” I have trouble believing this until I read the results Crawford achieves.
In 1999, Crawford matriculants received 914 distinctions, which is an average of 2,2 distinctions per student. Ninety- eight per cent of their matriculants received univer- sity exemptions. The Gauteng Department of Education named the Sandton college as the province’s “Top National and Provincial School” and honoured it for its 100% pass rate.
In sport and cultural events the school has an impressive record – students are chosen for South African teams ranging from tennis to lifesaving. Students from the Durban school have been chosen to compete in the 11th Shakespeare Inter- school Quiz Competition, have won the co- ed swimming gala and the KwaZulu-Natal schools’ rowing championships.
“Crawfordology” is the term coined by the school to reflect the philosophy the school manifests. It focuses on a “commitment to excellence” where students are given the freedom and support to excel in whatever they are good at. If it’s rugby, drama, physics or computers, the student is allowed to concentrate on it.
“Crawfordology celebrates uniqueness,” says Denise Goldin, who is affectionately termed “the mother of all schools” because she eats, breathes and sleeps Crawford.
“The aim of the Crawford schools is to decrease the brain drain,” she says. “A child at the age of three years old can enter the school and continue to university at one of our tertiary institutions. On graduation our students may be placed by our personnel agencies in jobs, and thus we provide an international standard of education available in South Africa.” Crawford is not a job, a school or an institution – it is a lifestyle, says Goldin, which aims at giving the student the freedom to be an individual but also take responsibility for that freedom.
Says Brian Buckham, chair of Advtech: “If you take away the buildings, the activities and Advtech, the schools will still be successful because of the ethos of Crawfordology and the refreshing approach to education. You don’t need money to implement the approach in any school.”
At the government school I attended, the “canteen” was a person selling home-made chips over the fence. Our sports ground doubled as the playground – it would be used as the soccer or rugby field, or for assembly, depending on what you needed it to be. Students were disciplined by being caned and detention was a popular form of punishment.
The gap between Crawford and government schools is phenomenal when you look at the example of computers in grade one and laptops for seniors, whereas many schools have no electricity.
But in this private school it seems the students are privileged, not because they are richer, but because they are given an education which teaches them life-skills and confidence in their individuality. Those lessons cost no money to implement.
In fact, Crawford’s plans for the future – apart from expanding to the Western Cape -include the establishment of schools with fewer frills and fewer activities but modelled on the same ethos – a more affordable option for parents.
Private schools everywhere seem to widen the gap between rich and poor, creating a society of elite students from privileged backgrounds who are given the confidence to be world leaders.
Will “Crawfordology” work in government schools where the ratio of teacher to student is at least 40 to one? Will students in government schools benefit from a similar education, where their confidence and uniqueness is celebrated?
It may be worth a try.