‘Get out of here. You are not one of us. You do not understand our culture,” said the angry man while pointing his firearm at Roy Naicker, who was sitting in his car. The gunman pulled the trigger, the gun clicked, but no bullet emerged. Naicker escaped harm.
This was his welcome as the new principal of Nonhlevu Secondary School in Groutville on the north coast of KwaZulu-Natal in January 1999 — the only brown face in a sea of black faces.
He did not think about leaving the school. ‘Maybe I was a bit stupid at the time. I didn’t consider that I could have died,” he says laughing.
A few days later about 1 000 learners at this dilapidated school went wild: they ran after two learners involved in a knife fight. Naicker’s staff watched in amusement, waiting to see what he would do. ‘I called the boys in. They stopped and I took the knife away,” he says. The staff were shocked.
As one of the most troublesome schools in the province, teaching and learning had stopped at Nonhlevu Secondary and teachers would leave by 10.30am. Naicker soon learned that by night many of his learners were criminals, who would hide in uniform in the school by day. The average age of the school ‘boys” was 30 and lunchtime entailed buying quarts of beer. Learners carried weapons and the teachers were using these ‘boys” to drive Naicker out. Until his arrival, life at the school was a party for both teachers and learners and Naicker was clearly going to be a party pooper.
‘Squatters had stolen everything from the school. There was no fence. There were no resources. This was a school that was a couple of degrees below ground zero,” says Naicker.
Eight years later he has won a Lifetime Achievement Award from the department of education for turning the school around academically and for giving this impoverished rural community hope through the achievements of their children.
The matric pass rate at Naicker’s school has grown from 4% in 1999 to 35% in 2002, topping 83% in 2006.
‘We begged and borrowed resources. We went to people and asked for resources, then publicised their contributions,” Naicker explains.
These days Nonhlevu Secondary School is a far cry from what it looked like in 1999. The beautiful grounds resemble that of a private school.
Alexander Forbes sponsored a computer laboratory, Sappi built a beautiful playground and Standard Bank provided furniture.
Matric classes started earlier than the rest of the school, with extra study sessions over weekends and holidays. Afternoon classes were held and Naicker approached church organisation Crossroads International to sponsor sandwiches. ‘My children walk long distances after school,” he says.
Naicker also started a process during which heads of departments had individual consultations with errant teachers — who knew they were being watched.
Clearly, things have changed. These days ‘his children” are talking about becoming chemical engineers and airline pilots. ‘In the past my children would tell me they want to become security guards, work for undertakers or become nurses,” Naicker says.
The mindset turnabout delights him. ‘Teaching is preparation for life. You are not teaching a subject — you are helping the child make a life for himself and to take his rightful place in society.”
If he can raise the dignity of the community through their children, then Naicker says his job will be done. ‘I want to create people who can go out there and stand up for themselves.”