Myth of the school satchel

When he showed me pictures of some Chemhanza Primary School children in Hwedza district on their first day of school on January 11, there was a lot to talk about; so many comparisons to make and so many lessons to be drawn, just by looking at the pictures he had taken.
It was also time to reflect on the country’s state of education, and whether these pupils from Chemhanza would turn out to be the proud citizens that Zimbabwe is moulding them to be.
It was also time to reflect on Zimbabwe’s literacy ranking and what it really means.
What is literacy, when we seem to fail to decipher the language of the day transmitted through information communication technologies?
I write this piece more than a month after the opening of the first school term; and also after both the Advanced level and Ordinary level results have been released.
Positive signs, after the turbulent years when getting examination scripts graded were a monumental task.
I also write the piece when the groups I particularly want to focus on – Grade Zeroes and Grade Ones – look like they have already adjusted to their new environments.
Let’s start with Chemhanza.
The children look so cute in their maroon uniforms.
It is very easy to note that it is a rural set up and that it is the first day of school.
The satchel, which has become one of the hallmarks among pupils in urban areas, has caught up with children in the rural areas.
But the difference might be what is contained in those bags.
For the contents make every child proud.
Recently, the writer spoke with a Grade Zero teacher, who for professional reasons I shall call Mrs Patricia Kumaka.
The first thing Mrs Kumuka told me was, “A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.
“I finished my primary teacher training recently. Since my husband works here, I did not want to go and teach in the rural areas.
“So, the only opening I got was to teach a Grade Zero class. But a few weeks down the line, I realise that I have to do a degree in special education. It’s important that I study the philosophy and psychology of teaching such young people.”
Mrs Kumuka echoed what most parents and guardians have said in the past: “Let’s start with the first day at school, when all of them, especially the Grade Zeroes and first graders are brimming with excitement.
“They are excited about anything and everything, but mostly about the new uniforms, shoes, ties, stockings.
“The icing on the cake is the satchel. They feel incomplete without those satchels, and they also show it by clasping them at their backs.”
I remembered another woman saying exactly the same things about her grandchildren: “The excitement is zeroed on one issue – putting on yet another set of new clothes, just after the festive season, where they would have been bought new clothes. And, a satchel is incomplete without a lunch box and sandwiches.
“Never mind what spread we put. The bottom line is that there is a lunch box in that bag. Another must is a bottle drink and some snacks like potato crisps or maputi. This is what they are excited about . . . Every child believes that they have the best, so it is some kind of competition.
“As parents, there is no option but to ensure that we provide them these goodies. You don’t want to get unwarranted invitations from teachers.”
This explained why the writer has seen women during weekends with cartons of maputi or potato crisps.
They are not for resale, but for school. It goes to show that confidence building starts very early.
But, now that I know what those satchels for urban kids have, I wondered about the Chemhanza primary school satchels.
Having had a rural primary education background, it was easy to guess.
It could be anything – ranging from maputi, mutakura, fruit, fat cookies, etc. But as with the satchel, things have changed.
It is not surprising that the same stuff found in bags of urban children is also found in the rural school satchels.
The country has also received fairly good rains, so their satchels would even have a larger variety: fresh mealies, mapudzi, pumpkin, round nuts, peanuts, etc.
However, their uniforms indicate that they have challenges compared to urban children, with some wearing slops and not shoes, while there is an assortment of stockings – not school stockings.
The difference is that in urban schools the authorities are quick to send them back home, while rural schools are quite liberal.
Mrs Kumuka also said that teachers have problems enforcing the break times, because with a lot of the children, the moment they get into class, they want to open their satchels and eat.
They also want to get back to Mamma as soon as they get into class.
She said, “You have to be tough. When you teach them about break times, you have to ensure that they follow your instructions. You are constantly on your feet, until they understand what it means.
“However, once they get it, they are not a problem, except for a few.”
“Jimmy not James”
The writer comes from a family where you are called something else at home, when the birth certificate says otherwise.
So, when you start school and you are called by your official name, it sounds strange.
In most cases you don’t even respond, because that is not the name you know.
This Grade Zero teacher said this was one of the problems they encountered during the first week.
“Let me demonstrate how much of a headache this is. When parents or guardians brought them in, we checked with the register. But the problem is that a child is called Jimmy at home and not James.
“So, when you call out, ‘James Sibanda’, he does not answer, because he does not know who James is. He is Jimmy.
“You panic, for you know that you marked him present when the mother brought him in. It’s still the first days remember, and you start wondering where the child has disappeared to since you never left them alone?
“You tell yourself that when you took them to the toilet, where you had to teach them some hygiene matters, they were all there.
“So after you have done the roll call, there is one boy remaining, who sits there quietly, looking clueless. You ask him what his name is, and he tells you, ‘Jimmy?’
“You ask, Jimmy, you mean James Sibanda?” And he emphatically says, ‘Jimmy Sibanda. I’m not James’.
“So you have to find a way of making him understand that although his name is Jimmy, he is still James, and at school, he will use James, but it’s an uphill struggle, for he doesn’t know that there is a piece of paper that altered the name he is commonly known by with something he doesn’t know, and doesn’t seem to like.”
Since they are the satchel brigades, they are not only very quick to grasp some things, but they want to show you that they are experts.
“You have to find a way of curbing the continuous requests to go the toilet, because you will be accompanying them every few minutes.
“Otherwise you will spend the whole day taking them to the toilet. When you teach them to say, ‘Excuse me Madam, may I please go to the toilet’, they want to show you that they can speak English.
“But, you also have to understand that our approach is play and learn. It might seem tedious to some people, but this is how they grasp concepts. If the person who is supposed to pick them up is late, they find it easy to cry silently.”
In education, there is what they call in loco parentis.
This means co-operation between parents and teachers to ensure the children’s quality education.
Are parents and teachers living up to this? Do parents participate in their children’s education?
Even though they might buy all the children’s school requirements, pay school fees, do they monitor their children’s education?
Why have parents accepted that remedial classes are replaced with “extra lessons”, where the pupil pays?
Do extra lessons have to be provided even for academically gifted children?
But one Mufakose parent showed that she tries.
She wanted to know how she could ask the headmaster for calling for a meeting last week, but never informed her two children.
“They used to write notices of meetings. They didn’t this time. If there are issues they agreed on, which I am against, how will I say no?”
She also wondered why they have had to replace exercise books, because the “Towards Zimbabwe Fit for Children” books are not suitable. They are all for Mathematics, with no margins.
Isaac Gonora, the talented boy-musician remains an issue.
He becomes part of this reflective piece because of a plea made by a Harare man, Mr O. Chidzenga.
Mr Chidzenga was the first one to inform this writer that although schools were open, Isaac was not among the kids that started Grade One on January 11.
He still lives in a world (Harare’s streets) that is oblivious of uniforms, satchels, bottle drinks, etc.
Last year, his parents promised that although Isaac had missed Grade Zero, he would surely start Grade One this year in their Gokwe rural home.
Readers also wrote and implored that society had a duty to ensure that Isaac’s talent is not wasted.
But, Isaac is still entertaining shoppers for alms on Harare’s streets.
A fortnight ago, I caught up with them playing in the downtown area of the central business district.
When I asked his father Mr Daniel Gonora why he had reneged on his promise that Isaac would be attending school this year, he remarked, “Where do I get the money to send him to school? If you come forward with donations, then he will go to school.”
The writer wondered about the donations made by a good Samaritan as reported in The Sunday Mail recently.
I also wondered what Mr Gonora’s priorities were. They have a dancer, and he obviously is not gyrating for free.
Despite his visual impairment, Mr Gonora said that he had received a good education at Copota School of the Blind where he also acquired his musical skills, thanks to the assistance from his brother. Those skills later enabled him to join the Jairos Jiri band.
Why can’t he do the same for his own son? The boy’s mother is young, and strong enough to work for her children and ensuring that her son receives god education.
But, this was Mr Chidzenga’s plea, “I am a father, and I felt for that kid. Let that boy go to school. He is gifted. Surely Government and the business community cannot just sit and watch.
“Indigenisation and black economic empowerment gurus like Philip Chiyangwa, Strive Masiiwa and Supa Mandiwanazira should rise to the occasion and assist not only this boy, but others.
“Why? Because, for them to be where they are, some people opened up those opportunities for them . . .”
But maybe these are the first Grade Zero and Grade One stream whose class attendance has not been affected by teachers’ industrial action.
Another good sign for Zimbabwe’s education system.
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