My educational outlook in the United States, presently, is pretty… idealistic, just ask Orpheus. I have no problem waxing eloquently and at great length about cultivating wisdom, encouraging personal involvement with class materials, and moving beyond the classroom to contribute to society. This is Soka education. This is humanistic education. I have the luxury to spend my time contemplating these personal ideals. What happens to a child’s education when their time is spent worrying about personal safety?
Jackson is an unassuming 20-something University student in Johannesburg with a bright future. But don’t ask him his name unless you brought your reading glasses. Jackson does not speak. He has not spoken for years. Jackson grew up in Rwanda and witnessed some horrible atrocities at too young an age. Unable to deal with the stresses of young life in a war zone, Jackson shut down and shut up. Children are not concerned with quality education when family members are dying atrocious deaths left and right. I relate to him. Speech is the first thing to leave me when I find myself in tense situations.
Last week in a kindergarten in Langa, Capetown, we were serenaded by 40-plus five year-olds. Due to the thickness of the accent, it took me a moment to realize they had begun singing in English, after a stream of traditional tunes. But the chorus hit me loud and hard: “It is my body! Don’t touch it, don’t touch it!” My mind screamed, “what abuses must they be encountering for this song to be of importance to them?” At the conclusion, one teacher explained that these children experience much physical and sexual abuse in the community and therefore the song aims to arm them with some degree of self-respect and self-worth at a young age with which to fight back against their aggressors, if not physically then spiritually. What child could take education seriously in the classroom with the constant fear of being attacked upon return home?
One educator made these dire circumstances crystal clear today. He said, in some areas of South Africa, the likelihood that a female student can walk to and from school safely in one day, without the incident of rape during the walk, is not very high. Students are attacked regularly. Who would want to go to school?
So my mind aches. How can I justify thinking in such idealistic terms universally when the basics of safety are taken for granted in much of the world? How do we create the circumstances so all may become philosophers in a renaissance of life when many would be satisfied with the guarantee of personal security, and rightly so??
I return to Jackson. He moved to South Africa as a refugee to attend high school. Jackson couldn’t focus on his studies in Rwanda, but once removed from those desperate circumstances, Jackson thrived. Save for the special arrangements made to allow for his continued silence, Jackson dominated the chess scene, made good marks, and now enjoys much success at the University level. Give him the guarantee of safety and education becomes the focus. One down, a million to go. Thank you Jackson; you have instilled hope in an overly-fortunate idealist.
-Karla Meier
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
A sense of safety in school is a troubling issue in the U.S. as well-- from the metal detectors in city schools to the random senseless killings in suburban schools. I wonder how we can use education to transform the culture of violence and fear that has flourished in nations that are so vastly different (at least on the surface) as Rwanda and the U.S.? What a different world we will have when we figure out how to provide all "Jacksons" a safe and humanistic education.
Post a Comment