Rambling of a Rebellious Teacher Part3 (original) (raw)
Teaching under a tree was "no problem", we all agreed. I had a chair, the pupils sat cross-legged in the dust and although we did have a few "little problems" like no blackboard, no text-books and no curriculum to work from, we had plenty of enthusiasm and determination between the lot of us. And we had plenty of fresh air, of course! (How I missed that tree when I had to teach 80 kids in a classroom built for 30�.)
I had discovered that there had been a history teacher previously, but he had "gone away" leaving behind some pretty interesting sayings, like "According to my insides�." which always preceded the answer to any question. I eventually figured that the previous teacher was set upon developing "insight" into history rather than language - but it took me a while - even though I heard the phrase about 50 times a day as we had to do all our learning by conversing - due to the lack of a blackboard.
And then I had to convince them that their "insides" were not infallible, which took some doing, as they insisted that if they answered according to their insides, I had to accept the answer as valid. I suppose they had a point, but��.
Of course, as with any group of 80 odd youngsters there were a few radically minded ( read: 'politically aware") rebellious activists in the group and they did not like the idea of having to learn either Afrikaans - "The Language of the Oppressor' or 'History according to the White Man' from a (of all things!) White woman and took me on that.
I knew I could not win on points, so I went for a KO: "Why are you in school?"
"To get a Matric Certificate" they answered. "Who's going to give you a Matric Certificate?" I countered and they replied: "Those ('despised' unheard, but clearly meant) guys in Pretoria" (Despite being so-called 'Independent Homelands', the South African Education Department still controlled the school-leaving exams and allocation of Matric Certificates)
I immediately came back with the technical KO. "Well, you give those guys in Pretoria what they want from you, then they give you what you want from them"
Luckily for me, the greater number of the pupils enthusiastically cheered me and that settled the matter.
They had no frame of reference on which to base their understanding of European history. Their main hero, for some reason, was Otto von Bismarck although I never found out why. Hitler was the undoubted Bad Guy and Napoleon was the "Paramount Chief of the French Tribe" and they all seemed to have lived together, squabbling over various things, at the same time in a small place called 'Europe'. And that was about the extent of their pre-knowledge.
Their loyalty to their previous History teacher was touching, but at the same time infuriating. I'm sure he was a dedicated History teacher, but he sure put me through some fancy verbal footwork before I convinced my class that maybe they should not rely too much on their "insides". In gratitude for this concession from them, I allowed Napoleon to be the "Paramount Chief of the French Tribe" in the end of term exam—which came all too soon.
Time flies when you are having fun, and the Senior School was arising before my very eyes as I drove to and from my tree every day.