Tuesday March 10th
With a badly out of scale hand drawn map from Charlotte – some directions to the school via the M4 – I set out with lots of time to spare. Guess what – the M4 is (and has been closed for the last week!) “Never mind” says I out loud in the car (as I am getting quite verbal when driving). I head for the N2 instead – the main freeway into the city. The traffic was again chaos & soon I realised that I had to also go on the N3 which is actually called Spaghetti Junction. With a vague idea that I am heading for the Beaches area or the water park & feeling quite ballsy - I carried on. God - what a nightmare. I ended up first of all on a one way system going in the wrong direction – then found my way back into the heart of the city & then took a tour around every back street alley there was & even a drive around the industrial estates. (The Shires Retail Park it was not) I could see the sea – but getting to it was no easy task? What with the rush hour traffic – the one way system – the road closures & my famous inability to negotiate my way around even familiar areas? However – just when I was about to call Charlotte & tell her to forget it as I was useless – I had one more go. Ten minutes later – I was there at Addington School.
The reception area was guarded with iron bars – it is not unusual for the reception staff to be held up at gun point. A mother sat nervously in the foyer waiting to see the principal. “Perhaps her child has been naughty”, - I thought. It later transpired that she had been brought in for the 2nd & final time to be spoken to by the Principal about the beatings she gives her child. She was crying when she came out of the office. The Principal later told me that the mother said that “it was cultural”. She gets regularly beaten by her husband & so she beats the children. I couldn’t help but wonder who the children will beat & ponder the roots of the violence in this society?
Anyway – Mrs Jackson (the principal) was a formidable character & I would likely cry if she gave me a telling off in her office. That said – she is a strong woman – with his principals & high expectations of the children. Prior to the ending of apartheid – the huge school served about 250 white children. It now serves 1,500 – most of whom are black. A high proportion of the kids have lost one or both parents to HIV / AIDS. There is a lot of trauma in that school – but I don’t suppose it is any different to other similar establishments in the area.
There are two special needs classes & I sat in to observe a group in each class on Abuse which was being facilitated by two sets of student nurses. They had prepared a work book with pictures & the children were sat on the floor discussing how it felt to be bullied or not listened to. (Even victimisation between children in these classes is not unusual) What happened next almost floored me. One little girl about aged 11 – put her hand up & told the facilitator calmly & in a very matter of fact way – that a male friend of her mothers had touched her. So there I was in a class with children who were discussing sexual abuse in a very normal way. The student nurses went on to ask the little girl – how that situation had made her feel. I felt very uneasy & certainly didn’t think that they should be pursuing such a disclosure in a group situation. I leaned over – whispered my concerns into the ear of the principal (who was coming to the same conclusion) & in a very discreet way she brought the session to an early conclusion. I later told her that the little girl was sharing this as though it was “normal”. Her response – “Sadly Kate – for many of these children – it is”.
I was shown round the school & introduced to the children & the staff as a “very important visitor form the UK”. I tried to say that I wasn’t that important really – but it fell on deaf ears. All the staff are referred to as Mrs this or Mr that. I didn’t want that & so didn’t give my surname. But instead by means of a compromise – I was referred to as Miss Kate.
The school has had some great success stories. Children getting scholarships to fee paying schools – becoming Head Boy or Head Girl – going on to University etc. Mrs Jackson summed it up perfectly. “I tell the children that I don’t mind what they decide to do as a job - if they want to be a road sweeper that is fine. But I tell them she said, – “You be the best road sweeper on the block”.
As I was shown back through the hall a group of children were finishing some activity & lining up to return to their class. They stopped & with prompting from Miss Jackson said in perfect unison – “Good morning very important visitor Miss Kate”. I could have cried & then they sang me a traditional African song about gifts from the heart.
Most of these children live in extreme poverty – with violence & neglect & abuse as common as SKY TV is in the UK. But in a good school – with high expectations – some of these disadvantaged children flourished. As I retraced my steps to return to my car I noticed a laminated sign on the door. It went like this:
“You can not shake hands with a clenched fist”.
Never a truer word was written?
I return to the school for a long day later on this week. All the staff I met were keen that I spend time in their class & help them with some of their “difficult children”. What a welcome they gave me & while I am a bit apprehensive – I am also looking forward to helping in any way I can. Tomorrow I am spending the day with a project for what are referred to here as “Street Children”. I think these kids are very wayward (even perhaps criminal) & homeless – many are orphans. As me mammy would say – “We don’t know we are born”.
With a badly out of scale hand drawn map from Charlotte – some directions to the school via the M4 – I set out with lots of time to spare. Guess what – the M4 is (and has been closed for the last week!) “Never mind” says I out loud in the car (as I am getting quite verbal when driving). I head for the N2 instead – the main freeway into the city. The traffic was again chaos & soon I realised that I had to also go on the N3 which is actually called Spaghetti Junction. With a vague idea that I am heading for the Beaches area or the water park & feeling quite ballsy - I carried on. God - what a nightmare. I ended up first of all on a one way system going in the wrong direction – then found my way back into the heart of the city & then took a tour around every back street alley there was & even a drive around the industrial estates. (The Shires Retail Park it was not) I could see the sea – but getting to it was no easy task? What with the rush hour traffic – the one way system – the road closures & my famous inability to negotiate my way around even familiar areas? However – just when I was about to call Charlotte & tell her to forget it as I was useless – I had one more go. Ten minutes later – I was there at Addington School.
The reception area was guarded with iron bars – it is not unusual for the reception staff to be held up at gun point. A mother sat nervously in the foyer waiting to see the principal. “Perhaps her child has been naughty”, - I thought. It later transpired that she had been brought in for the 2nd & final time to be spoken to by the Principal about the beatings she gives her child. She was crying when she came out of the office. The Principal later told me that the mother said that “it was cultural”. She gets regularly beaten by her husband & so she beats the children. I couldn’t help but wonder who the children will beat & ponder the roots of the violence in this society?
Anyway – Mrs Jackson (the principal) was a formidable character & I would likely cry if she gave me a telling off in her office. That said – she is a strong woman – with his principals & high expectations of the children. Prior to the ending of apartheid – the huge school served about 250 white children. It now serves 1,500 – most of whom are black. A high proportion of the kids have lost one or both parents to HIV / AIDS. There is a lot of trauma in that school – but I don’t suppose it is any different to other similar establishments in the area.
There are two special needs classes & I sat in to observe a group in each class on Abuse which was being facilitated by two sets of student nurses. They had prepared a work book with pictures & the children were sat on the floor discussing how it felt to be bullied or not listened to. (Even victimisation between children in these classes is not unusual) What happened next almost floored me. One little girl about aged 11 – put her hand up & told the facilitator calmly & in a very matter of fact way – that a male friend of her mothers had touched her. So there I was in a class with children who were discussing sexual abuse in a very normal way. The student nurses went on to ask the little girl – how that situation had made her feel. I felt very uneasy & certainly didn’t think that they should be pursuing such a disclosure in a group situation. I leaned over – whispered my concerns into the ear of the principal (who was coming to the same conclusion) & in a very discreet way she brought the session to an early conclusion. I later told her that the little girl was sharing this as though it was “normal”. Her response – “Sadly Kate – for many of these children – it is”.
I was shown round the school & introduced to the children & the staff as a “very important visitor form the UK”. I tried to say that I wasn’t that important really – but it fell on deaf ears. All the staff are referred to as Mrs this or Mr that. I didn’t want that & so didn’t give my surname. But instead by means of a compromise – I was referred to as Miss Kate.
The school has had some great success stories. Children getting scholarships to fee paying schools – becoming Head Boy or Head Girl – going on to University etc. Mrs Jackson summed it up perfectly. “I tell the children that I don’t mind what they decide to do as a job - if they want to be a road sweeper that is fine. But I tell them she said, – “You be the best road sweeper on the block”.
As I was shown back through the hall a group of children were finishing some activity & lining up to return to their class. They stopped & with prompting from Miss Jackson said in perfect unison – “Good morning very important visitor Miss Kate”. I could have cried & then they sang me a traditional African song about gifts from the heart.
Most of these children live in extreme poverty – with violence & neglect & abuse as common as SKY TV is in the UK. But in a good school – with high expectations – some of these disadvantaged children flourished. As I retraced my steps to return to my car I noticed a laminated sign on the door. It went like this:
“You can not shake hands with a clenched fist”.
Never a truer word was written?
I return to the school for a long day later on this week. All the staff I met were keen that I spend time in their class & help them with some of their “difficult children”. What a welcome they gave me & while I am a bit apprehensive – I am also looking forward to helping in any way I can. Tomorrow I am spending the day with a project for what are referred to here as “Street Children”. I think these kids are very wayward (even perhaps criminal) & homeless – many are orphans. As me mammy would say – “We don’t know we are born”.
