I have something to bitch about. As a student teacher with two first-class English degrees from the University of Pretoria and with experience working in schools, I desperately wanted a job in an underprivileged high school, preferably in a rural area. I moved to a farm in Mpumalanga, and approached several schools in my area.
A spanking new high school was being completed in Sekhelwe outside Dullstroom and the principal was extremely keen to get me in as an English teacher. But after four months trying to get a post there, I was forced to take another teaching post — in a private school — as the public school’s term had started and yet another meeting about my job application had been postponed.
I was broke and disappointed, and the principal embarassed and disappointed. Why did this happen? I can only answer this question with another one: has anyone out there ever been able to get hold of the Department of Education (DoE), at any office in any area, ever, on the telephone? Have you looked up their websites and tried to get the e-mail address of someone other than the MEC for the province — someone intended to answer routine, rather than ‘state of the nation” questions?
In two years as a research assistant at university, I never once got my hands on them. During my honours research, I couldn’t get hold of them either. More recently, as a prospective employee, I tried for four months, and couldn’t get an answer on the telephone or via e-mail even once.
Man, did I try and get deployed to an underprivileged school! But that telephone just kept on ringing. Appointment after appointment — first with the education MEC and later a regional officer in
the department — were cancelled at the last minute.
That was strike one. Then came strike two: another op-en-wakker (wide awake) headmaster, another rural government high school in a very poor area, this one outside Waterval Boven. This time I was working parttime during my private school holidays. From a neat and orderly storeroom, I was issued with the prescribed books for Grade 11 and 12. Four books have been prescribed — but in one case, only 20 books arrived, in another, just 30. However, there were 63 learners in Grade 11.
‘Did you not contact the department or the book distributors and tell them there had been a mistake?” I asked, puzzled.
‘Well, I drove around to all the other schools in the area, trying to see if they had some extra copies — Belfast, Lydenburg, Machadodorp — but they also had a shortfall. The Siswati teacher had the same problem,” was the reply.
‘And what did the department have to say?”
A sigh. A shrug. ‘Have you ever tried to get hold of the department on the telephone?” said the other teacher ruefully.
The two of us came up with some fine theories. There’s a sangoma’s curse on the DoE telephones — if you touch them your hand falls off. Or perhaps they have a special sound-proof room where they keep the phones. Or are there in fact two telephones for the education departments in each province, both on the MEC’s desk, one marked ‘Answer: this could be Kader” and one marked ‘Do NOT answer, this could be an ordinary citizen”?
I have worked in a number of schools both in South Africa and in England where brilliant teachers and inspired principals have either flourished or floundered depending on good administrative support staff and strong, easy-to-communicate-with leadership. Please, Kader Asmal, get some staff in whose job it is specifically to answer the phone and deal with ordinary educators, and please give us some e-mail addresses where we can get efficient and friendly service.
There are a lot of problems out there with your underlings, but there are also willing minions who would like to do your bidding. Help us.