There is no doubt that language is highly value-laden. In South Africa this is compounded by the imperative for social transformation and redress of the inequities of the past. The name changes of cities, towns, airports and roads — many of which have proved to be controversial and expensive — are examples of this.
The rationale for this transformation seems to be that, while it’s obviously not possible to erase history, new names may help those most adversely affected by the past to settle more comfortably into the present. In itself, this intention is laudable.
But the language of transformation moved into the realms of the nonsensical in education when, for reasons which escape me, all members of the teaching profession had to be called “educators”.
What was the reasoning behind this shift in language? What was to be achieved by changing the name of those members of a noble and long established profession which provides the foundations for all others? Is it just semantics — playing with words — or has this change resulted in a loss to the education system, to the schools around South Africa and a loss of a sense of identity for those who used to be known as teachers.
I know what a teacher is (I’ve been one most of my working life) and I’m proud to be one. Parents know what a teacher is, pupils (“learner” is another transformational language nonsense) know what a teacher is, education systems across the world know what a teacher is, and they all use the title. And, while not everyone may recognise the fact that teaching is a profession and a skill, everyone knows that teachers teach.
So presumably — in the minds of those who decreed the name change — educators educate!
But educating is not teaching and certainly is not the preserve only of those who have studied and trained to become teachers. Parents, employers, work colleagues and friends can all be educators — they provide an education in things not necessarily associated with formal study or learning. But they are not teachers. And teaching is what is not happening in 80% of our classrooms — judging by the number of dysfunctional schools in the country.
Not that language itself can be blamed for a lack of performance or integrity of any individual, whatever their profession. But perhaps it is the loss of the pride, respect and dignity that has always been associated with the title and the role of teacher which is a factor in the dysfunctionality of so many South African schools and has possibly hindered the country’s progress in transforming education.
It’s true that education systems across the world have their own language and we in “the business” do use jargon — however much we might deny it. The language of education reform apparently favours acronyms and empty “sound bites” over clarity of educational meaning or intent through the use of plain English — or any official language!
But, at least in England in the mid-Eighties, when attention was focused on school leaders and a name change was deemed necessary for a modern era in state schools, common sense prevailed over jargon. The title “headteacher” was chosen to replace the old-fashioned, rather stuffy name of headmaster/headmistress; rejecting the other alternative — principal.
Why headteacher? Because it described the position and the function, it was gender-neutral and located the position within the teaching priority of the school. Whatever else headteachers should do — as the new CEO-type leaders and managers of complex educational organisations (schools, in plain English) — they should ensure that the school’s core business — teaching and learning — takes place. It put the profession of teaching back in the role — and proudly!
In South Africa, can we put the profession of teaching proudly back into the role by dispensing formally with educators and bringing back the teachers? Perhaps, but it may need those in the forefront of influence to push for this.
At a conference a few years ago I was engaged in conversation with a senior representative of teacher union Sadtu. When asked about my work in England with the new National Professional Qualification for Headship programme, I explained the policy on training aspiring headteachers and the possibility of a similar development in South Africa. The union representative said, derisively, that I obviously didn’t understand the South African context as here “we have educators”.
Puzzled, I asked who his union’s constituents were as I understood his organisation’s initials stood for the South African Democatic Teachers’ Union; and if this was not the case then surely the union would be changing its name?
As they say, watch this space! In the meantime I have resolved always to use the title teacher and personally put the profession proudly back in the role of teaching.
Caroline Faulkner lectures in educational leadership at Wits School of Education