Pens down … farewell matric

With the 2007 matric examination ending in most provinces next week, the final ‘time-is-up, put-down-your-pens signal” will mark the end of an era.

From 2008 the Senior Certificate, better known as matric, will be replaced by a new school-leaving qualification for full-time candidates. It will be called the National Senior Certificate. Part-timers can still obtain the old certificate until June 2011.

The new certificate brings significant changes. The new grade 12 examination will be a national affair. At present grade 12s are required to answer question papers set by the provincial departments of education, except for nationally set papers in 11 subjects that were introduced from 2002.

The new examination will no longer have the higher and standard grades, which were introduced in 1975. Subjects will be offered at one level and entry into universities from 2009 will be determined by how well a grade 12 performs and not, as in the past, by the number of mainly higher-grade subjects successfully completed.

Because higher grade and standard grade have fallen away, the higher education sector is changing its entry requirements. However, in the future learners will be able to leave school at the end of grade nine with a general education and training certificate.

The original meaning of ‘matriculate” was to enrol at a university or college for further study. However, in the South African context this changed over time to mean the end of school examination and qualification.

Desmond Makhanya, 1954

‘I completed my matric in 1954 at Adams College near Amanzimtoti in the then Natal. This was about the same time the infamous Bantu Education Act was introduced and a year after the educational institution celebrated its centenary.

‘I had to do my matric twice and this was because the Natal matric syllabus was different from other parts of the country. At that stage school-leavers completed the exams of the former provincial authorities, but in Natal the exam was recognised for further study only in 1953.”

Pat Schwartz, 1962

‘When you grew up privileged and white in the 1950s and early 1960s, life was full of certainties. The world was not only your oyster, you could make sure you had access to all the pearls. You did, however, have to pass matric — and therein, for me, lay the rub. I always was totally exam-phobic. The Joint Matric Board exams written at private schools in the 1960s were demanding — distinctions were rare.

‘Even before age began to rob me of most of my memory cells, I found it impossible to absorb information and recycle it without the help of references, so the moment of truth — turning over that exam paper — was a chilling experience. To say I muddled through matric — in 1962 — would be putting it kindly.”

John McCann, 1975

‘That matric is to be killed off is welcome news. Having matriculated in 1975, the division of the syllabus into ‘higher” and ‘standard” grade subjects is remembered as a disruptive piece of social engineering imposed upon teachers and learners.

‘The skills I learned that still help me to earn a living were transmitted solely by the personal talents of teachers and not by the onerous legislation imposed upon them.”

Rob McLeod, 1976

‘After several postgraduate degrees I now view my matric mostly as an academic springboard; just a doorway to many other things. Later as a matric teacher I witnessed a sad decline in standards over 12 years of teaching — perhaps if I did matric now I’d be even more bored and more scared.”

Matthew Krouse, 1979

‘In my old photo album I found a newspaper article about my matric history exam. Above the article I had written: ‘From The Star newspaper, November 5 1979. My History exam: Number 26 738.’

‘The exam had hit the news because it was regarded as a breakthrough paper for the education system at the time. It was the first of its kind to include questions about current affairs. The article quoted my principal, Isaac Kriel of Damelin College, saying that children who listened to the radio or watched television could score points, since the questions included subjects such as the Organisation of African Unity, the war with South West Africa and China’s ‘involvement’ in Africa.

‘What that meant, in essence, was that students were expected to regurgitate the apartheid-era propaganda of the time.”

Steve Ramushu, 1980

‘For me writing my matric exam was tough because of the political situation. I wrote it in 1980 at Orlando High School soon after my schooling was disrupted for two consecutive years, 1977 and 1978, due to the 1976 riots.

‘I was determined to pass. We all wanted to further our studies at tertiary institutions. Matric was the ticket. I went to Matseke High School and then to Orlando. I sometimes wondered how I managed to make it given the political obstacles.”

Thabo Mohlala, 1987

‘The year was 1987 when I sat for my matric exam at Ditho-thwaneng High School, somewhere in rural Northen Transvaal (now) Limpopo. Matric was a glittering prize every learner wanted to obtain.

‘Bapedi would say of someone in matric, ‘o dira marematlou”, meaning one was killing an elephant. The pressure was on and, being the first-born, it meant I had to set high standards by passing.

‘Most of us did well, not because we were geniuses but because our minds were able to memorise big chunks of information. Very few subjects required one to discuss and analyse.”

Primarashni Gower, 1988

‘I woke up to a Rick Astley song on the SABC’s Good Morning South Africa TV show just hours before my matric exam in 1988. My hands were shaking and my heart was palpitating. These exams were the springboard to escape my socio-economic environment. I would not handle the shame of failure and suicide did cross my mind.

‘I struggled with the maths and accounting. History was a breeze — my rote learning of prepared essays landed me an A, while I was disappointed with a B in English. Achieving a comfortable C aggregate pass meant I was relatively smart among my Indian peers.”

Edwina van der Burg, 1989

‘It was the best of times; it was the worst of times: matric 1989 in class 10A at Cathkin Senior Secondary in Heideveld on the Cape Flats. Nelson Mandela was still in jail and the struggle against apartheid was raging in the townships.

‘In standard eight [grade 10 today] I’d convinced myself I was going to become a medical doctor, so I chose the ‘academic’ stream of subjects: mathematics, biology, physical science, geography, English and Afrikaans. But by matric, I had changed my mind, in no small part due to the fact that I’d discovered I really hated maths, but also because of a teacher named Anthony Roberts.

‘Roberts taught me higher grade English, a passion for writing and planted the seed that led to me studying journalism.

‘The actual exams are a blur, though I do remember the recurring nightmare: being late for the exam and rushing into the classroom to discover you’re naked.”

Jocelyn Newmarch, 1997

‘I matriculated in 1997. There was a tremendous feeling of optimism, a sense that we were building a new society. I was lucky to have attended a multiracial high school — Cape Town High School — where white, coloured and black pupils mixed easily.

‘The end-of-year matric exams were a source of great anxiety. However, continuous evaluation had been introduced, so the exams did not carry nearly as much weight as they had previously. I still remember the relief I felt upon receiving confirmation from my university that I’d been offered a place, even before I had actually written matric.”

Adriaan Basson, 1999

‘Matric was in 1999. It meant a driver’s licence and the freedom to go clubbing with an over-18 ID up the bouncer’s nose. And then the dance: the first and the last time some of us would wear a tie. The year was also the time of South Africa’s second democratic elections. Some, especially those in the history class, bothered to vote.

‘Then came the exam. The biggest challenge in life, some teachers made us believe. After late nights of caffeine, it was all over. A few weeks later matric was gone, with the old millennium and those ugly grey trousers. As if it never happened.”

Monako Dibetle, 2000

‘By end of first term I had decided not to bother practising mathematics anymore. I was pathetic. The year was 2000. We had realised a year earlier that choosing the natural sciences stream was a terrible and irreversible mistake. I badly needed to pass, but maths stood in my way.

‘Looking back I am proud of Madiba Comprehensive School’s class of 2000. Though a township school — in this case in Kagiso on the West Rand — is generally basic, some used it to the fullest.”

Warren Foster, 2002

‘I shrugged off maths, science, computer science and biology because I’d known journalism was my only area of interest. But in matric — in 2002 — the relevance of these subjects dawned on me. I still had to apply for some sort of tertiary education and I needed to secure a certain tally of points. There was a secret to surviving the finals — do past papers. ”