Backwards Design Part 3

Or, Ugandan Education (un)-Explained

Wednesday, July 8, 2009 - The Day of Double Standards

There isn’t really a nice way to lead into this, so here goes. Today I watched 6 Ugandan high school students get caned, and for the first time I felt a bit of hopelessness for the entire situation regarding the African educational and political system.

After observing the first class of the week (that was supposed to start at 8 and started at 8:45) I went into the staff room to wait for tea while Sophie, who ‘had a headache,’ went home to take a nap. Her student teacher covered her next two classes, which I asked to observe since I really had nothing better to do. He said tomorrow would be better.

Eric was next to me at a small table, coping notes from his teachers planning book into his notebook for his lesson on Monday. I had my journal out and was jotting down some notes on the morning’s class.

One of the teachers whom I didn’t know came in holding the arm of a student, a boy probably 14 or 15 years old. The boy was wearing flip-flops and was supposed to be wearing black shoes as part of his school uniform. The teacher made the boy kneel in front of him in the middle of the staff room, which at this point had 12-15 teachers sitting at tables, waiting for tea. The teacher told the boy to remove his shoes, then held them in front of the boy’s face, asking, “Do you think your teachers are people to be deceived? You all know your requirements, and you will not be permitted to be here if you can not dress appropriately.” The teacher then turned and walked out, leaving the student kneeling, head bowed towards the floor, silent. A number of other teachers in the room started jeering and taunting the boy, telling him he was worthless, irresponsible, naughty. All the while the student stared at the floor, shoulders slumped over.

I don’t know if the same teacher or a different one walked back into the room, but at this point, I made no eye contact and just stared at my journal. The teacher told the boy to lie on the floor, and proceeded to administer five sharp blows with a reed to the back of the students calves. The boy did not cry out, but only made a quick yelp with each hit. When the teacher finished, he told the student to go home and not return until he was wearing the proper uniform. Chances are the boy doesn’t even own black shoes, but came to school regardless because he wanted to be there – why else would you risk physical punishment to come to school??

This continued with 5 other students in a similar fashion; two of the students were females whose skirts do not reach their calves, so the cane struck directly onto skin. The boys were quiet; one of the girls began openly sobbing before the abuse began, while the other did not cry out until after she was hit. Most punishments were for uniform violations, though one was for a student taking his school fee and sharing it with his brother. He was accused of being a liar and a cheat, and received a handful of severe blows. Another student was the nephew of one of the Ugandan teachers in the program; the teacher brought the boy in with the boy’s arm twisted behind his back, stumbling forward. He told the other teacher, “This is my brother’s son. We need to teach him a lesson. He can not behave like this.” It was not said what he was guilty of. The teacher turned to his nephew and – holding up two switches – made the boy select his own switch.

In addition to the caning, two students were brought in with hair that was “too long.” (Both boys and girls have to have shaved or closely-cropped hair to prevent the spread of lice.) The boys brought in had hair that was maybe an inch in length. Two female teachers took a pair of scissors and cut a stripe of hair from his forehead to the back of his neck, and another from the tip of one ear to the tip of another so he had a + on the top of his head – for no other reason than complete humiliation. They told him to go home and not return until his hair was the appropriate length. Seems to me if you were really concerned about the student and his education, you’d send him back to class and tell him to get a haircut, say, by Friday. Or, while you have your scissors out, cut all the hair on his head and then send him back to class. What on earth does their reaction do for teacher, student, or school?

Writing this now, I am ashamed to say that while it all was going on, I sat in my seat and did nothing except try not to vomit; Eric and I were completely shocked and did not even know what to do. Our understanding was that caning was illegal, and while it happens occasionally, head teachers and administrators were on the look out for teachers violating this law. How mistaken we were. The biggest shock was the public and humiliating nature of the action; teachers in the staff room were actively involved, laughing, taunting, berating the students. Several teacher partners in the IC program, including Sophie, were in the room and involved. The deputy head of the school, who should be the one stopping this action, sat in the room and watched it happen.

When Eric and I left the room, we immediately went back to the parish, and told the others what had happened – no one knew what to say or how to respond. We called Invisible Children and learned that this was the most serious case ever reported at an Invisible Children partner school. Catherine, our coordinator, notified necessary authorities within the program. We did not return to school for lunch, as we couldn’t face our partner teachers without having some more time to think about what this meant for our experience, our exchange, and our organization as a whole. Many of us felt that we could not ‘support’ a school or a faculty that engages in child abuse, but if we pull out of the program, that leaves the students in a situation with even less hope.

We talked it out among the group for several hours and went through a range of emotional responses: anger, disappointment, fear, frustration. We have chalked a lot so far up to “cultural differences” and have tried to be culturally sensitive, understanding and patience. But on this issue, we came to the conclusion that we can not stay in Uganda and do what we came to do unless we take a stand. Our conference last weekend – with our Ugandan partner teachers – centered around empowering the student and the teacher – physical punishment empowers no one. How do you build a positive relationship between teacher and student when there is fear and violence? How do you build a culture of peace when you are teaching the youth of the country to respond to conflict with violence?

I questioned whether even to make this public, but I think it is important to share as both a reminder of how lucky we are for our own educations in the U.S. and of the fact that there are children being mistreated other places in the world.

I was quiet at school as it happened, but I can’t stay quiet any more.