The Little School That Could

It was my intention to remove myself from City Hall once the school was up and running, but in spite of all the chaos out of which the school has sprung and the small rooms in which they must operated, the school is thriving. The first message on my cellphone yesterday morning was from Partson: “Ok set up is in place in the hall wl start registration of pupils. Orientation in hall at 8am.” Another sms followed, “Hav opened the schl in style teaching now on.”

I sat down at my PC and there it was, Partson’s shopping list for the school.

“Germiston Refugee School

Books for the teachers – teaching guides for various levels. Pre school to Grade 12. Toys, colourful blocks, movable/portable boards, chalk, dusters, charts, magic markers, manila sheets, picture charts (with different situations), clay for moulding, erasable boards, old tyres, balls, musical instruments (for children)”.

One of the blackboards that donor Jill from Bryanston had bought was standing proudly on its easel outside the classroom, and written on it in crisp white chalk was, “Classes now in progress, silence please.”

 

The first overcrowded classroom had all the junior primary children sitting on blankets colouring in as one of the teachers chanted to her young charges. “This is a ball, the ball is blue and the sky is blue.” When they became aware of my presence they all sing-songed a welcome greeting that shook my by the throat, how dare I think could get away with abandoning the fledgling that I had put out onto water?

 

The high school children were seated on chairs around their respective teachers, their brows creased with concentration in the darkness of the room; none of the lights were working. Within half an hour a sponsor had sent his electrician to repair the lights on the south wing of the City Hall.

 

Someone suggested that we shouldn’t allow anyone to teach if they haven’t got their certificate, one teacher said he would go back to Marathon Squatter Camp to collect his. I said nobody would be going back into that hotbed of hatred; he would teach if he wanted to teach. How can you have normal expectations in abnormal times?

 

The Star newspaper and CNN arrived and Partson asked me if they can film the school, I told him that is his school he does not have to ask me for permission. The church wants to relocate the school and even though I would like to see the school remain where it is, I understand the enthusiasm of the teachers. I suggested that the administrator of City Hall  and the parents should be consulted, after all, it is their children.

 

In the afternoon I went to Mica and I swopped out some items donated by the Jewish Board of Deputies. We purchased a water dispenser and storage units for all the books and toys and glue and paint and cleaning items.

 

I don’t know how long the little school will last, but when I see the last item on Partson’s list – computers, I don’t know whether he is an optimist or a pessimist, perhaps in Africa he’s just a realist.