/ 15 November 2025

R4 billion withheld: The Eastern Cape school funding crisis

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PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER: Children attending GADRA Education’s Whistle Stop School are immersed in the program’s carefully designed literacy resources. Photo: Supplied

The question isn’t whether the Eastern Cape can afford to transform literacy outcomes. The question is why it chooses not to.

In the province’s overcrowded classrooms, most Foundation Phase learners lack access to classroom libraries, quality literacy materials and even an adequate supply of stationery. Since 2020, the Eastern Cape department of education has withheld at least R5 billion from no-fee schools.

This year alone, when Basic Education Minister Siviwe Gwarube mandated National Norms and Standards for School Funding of R1 748 per learner for 2024/25 for poorer Quintiles 1-3 schools, the department withheld 33.75% of the amount — an estimated R932 million.

“How can you live with yourself?” Madelaine Schoeman, the former principal of Ntsika Secondary School in Makhanda, asks of education officials. “It really is unconscionable when you know there are children who didn’t get food, proper education because of you.”

The retained R5 billion represents a staggering missed opportunity. Provincial school data show there are 16,950 Foundation Phase classrooms in no-fee schools (housing 508 491 learners). The vast majority do not have basic book libraries. 

High-quality, multilingual classroom libraries with 100 books per classroom (at R200 per book) would cost R340 million – just 7% of the retained R5 billion. That’s approximately R200 per learner over the five-year life of each library. 

Research indicates that classroom libraries with a wide selection of books significantly enhance reading achievement, particularly for students from low-income backgrounds. A 2010 meta-analysis found that learners with classroom libraries read 50-60% more than those without.

Nali’ibali’s Story Powered Schools initiative found that classroom libraries increased reading frequency by 70% compared to centralised school libraries, which often become what researchers in Kenya and Uganda call “book graveyards” — locked rooms where books deteriorate unused. 

Meanwhile, NGO GADRA Education’s proven teacher support program, QondaRead, has achieved breakthrough results in Makhanda, demonstrating an impact equivalent to advancing by a full year or more in typical learning. Adequate teacher support doesn’t require massive budgets. QondaRead costs just R126 to R176 per learner per year when factored over the five-year life of the materials. 

Combined with classroom libraries, the total cost is just R376 per learner — just 22% of the Minister’s R1,748 allocation per learner for 2025. This begs the question: If it is so affordable, why does the education department not procure these things? 

The underfunding battle

At the heart of the issue is Case No. 3830/2023 in the Makhanda High Court. Cecile van Schalkwyk of the Legal Resources Centre (LRC) is representing the Makhanda Circle of Unity and school governing bodies (SGBs) from Ntsika Secondary, Hoërskool PJ Olivier, and Tyantyi Primary in their challenge to the department’s persistent underfunding.

Launched in October 2023, the case remains ongoing, with a hearing set for March 2026. 

The statistics are damning. Since 2020, the department has systematically underfunded schools: In 2020/21, allocations were slashed to 78%. By 2021/22 and 2022/23, the allocations had plummeted to 50-53% of the mandated amount. For 2023/24 and 2024/25, the department retained 33.75% of funds, reducing cash transfers to just 66.25% of the national minimum. 

Van Schalkwyk says the framing of the Norms and Standards for School Funding allows provincial education departments to deviate from the target set by the minister, “creating an unequal and discriminatory funding model, where some provinces fund below the target amount”.

With 1.58 million learners in no-fee schools in the province, the education department held back R853 million in 2024. Since 2020, the underfunding amounts to around R5 billion.

Applicants argue that the retention violates Section 29 of the Constitution, which guarantees an “immediately realisable” right to basic education, and the South African Schools Act, which requires complete transfers to school governing bodies.

Acting head of the department of education in the province, Sharon Ann Maasdorp, defended retention, claiming economies of scale, cost savings, and better delivery; however, there’s no evidence that these savings materialised, and the applicants maintain that R5 billion retained by the department wasn’t even spent on the centralised procurement she described in her affidavit.

Where did this money go? What was procured exactly? From whom? Did it meet the learners’ literacy needs? 

Seven other provinces allocate roughly the mandated amount to their schools as a matter of course. The Eastern Cape and KwaZulu-Natal — which has not increased the per-learner subsidy since the Covid-19 pandemic — are the only delinquents. 

The human cost 

A sustained and deliberate funding drought is crippling already-stretched Eastern Cape schools and forcing some principals to dig into their own pockets. Schools receive some supplies centrally, rather than cash, often obtaining items they don’t need while lacking essentials.

Along with other committed staff, Priscilla Glover, former principal of Tantyi Primary School, found herself buying basic supplies, subsidising substitute staff, extra food, and transportation with her own income. “I would buy pens because the pens provided by the department were not enough and were not of good quality, and barely lasted a month.” 

The funding crisis has created a culture of fear and caution among school leaders.

 “We are not allowed to strike or speak ill of the department because we are the representatives of it,” Glover explains. 

“We are scared to be on the wrong side of it – you can’t complain a lot; at worst, you are at risk of losing your job. It would be so much more constructive to fully engage the most important role players in education, including principals, in decision-making.”

Meanwhile, Schoeman and her husband became unofficial school sponsors during her highly successful 12-year tenure at Ntsika, funding everything from student meals to infrastructure improvements. Under her leadership, Ntsika’s matric pass rate soared from 29% in 2012 to 87% by 2016, maintaining excellence despite systematic underfunding.

“First of all, you can’t budget for the next year with no idea of what you will be getting,” Schoeman explains. “So that becomes problematic already.”

The funding crisis has created a culture of fear among school leaders.

“We are not allowed to strike or speak ill of the department because we are the representatives of it. We are scared to be on the wrong side of it — you can’t complain a lot; you are at risk of losing your job,” Glover said.

Despite these constraints, both principals found ways to maintain educational quality. Schoeman’s Ntsika achieved a 41% Bachelor pass rate in 2022, equalling that of fee-paying Graeme College. But the constant struggle takes its toll. The systemic underfunding ultimately contributed to Glover’s decision to leave the profession she loved.

Decentralisation as a solution

The solution, according to both principals, lies in decentralisation. 

“Give the schools the money!” demanded Schoeman. “If the schools are not doing what they should be doing, then put them on the list of the ones who cannot get the full amount and do procurement for them. But for schools that are well run, give them the full amount of money.”

Glover agrees: “Decentralise — give us the budget in money, we will buy the books. Don’t make decisions for us on how to run schools. We are audited every year anyway, so if there’s funny business, it will be picked up.”

Schoeman places this within a historical context: “In 1994, a white child in a Model C school was getting around R1,700 a year for education. So we needed to get everyone to the same level — I fully understand that. But what happens is that after all these years since 1994, we still haven’t reached the level of a white child, and that is inadequate.”

Allowing for inflation, R1 700 in 1994 would be worth over R9 596 today. Eastern Cape school children are currently receiving around R1,000 per learner per year — just over one-tenth of the amount allocated to a white learner at the dawn of democracy.

A political choice

The R5 billion retained since 2020 represents a political choice, not a resource constraint. 

If the department of education insists on centralised procurement, it should consider procuring the right things: proven interventions costing R126 – R176 per learner annually; classroom libraries cost R200 per learner over five years, increasing reading frequency by 70%; teacher training in accessing abundant, free digital resources. 

The technology exists. Many materials are available – many more can be developed. The pedagogy is proven. Yet the mysterious fruits of “centralised procurement” remain invisible to schools. 

The money exists. The question is whether the Eastern Cape will choose to use it for the children who need it most.