I chose the heading “It Has Come” from a chapter in The Secret Garden. I also selected text from the novel and used it as a poem to commence this chapter because it signified the change in Mary’s life. Her spring had come and, similarly, my high school experience was the start of my springtime when I began to shake off my negative self-image and found my true worth. My grey clouds had shifted and bright blue sunny skies shone down from the heavens on me.
Samaras (2011) drew my attention to the fact that when self-study researchers like myself intertwine our explorations of our teaching practices with our personal life experiences, this can act as a channel to harness the impact that our personal lived experiences could have had on our development.
Therefore, in the previous chapter, I provided details of my unhappy primary school experiences. I showed how I developed a negative self-image when my grandfather labelled me an ugly duckling and told me I received a book prize for coming last in the class instead of first. I then discussed my various primary school experiences, namely, being humiliated by a teacher and made to kneel on the floor and being called a dirty pig. I spoke about how I hated the subject needlework because I could not sew and how the teacher embarrassed me because of this. I narrated how I lost all my dignity and was mortally afraid of the school principal.
In this chapter, I recount how my life took a complete turn. I found my true worth as a high school learner because of the kindness and warm attitude of my English teacher who saw my potential and my love for the languages. He encouraged me to participate in the national language examinations, for which I received certificates. So motivated was I, that I participated in a sporting event at school and even received a certificate. Whilst my high school years began very pleasantly, they did not end
41 “It Has Come” (Burnett, 1969, p. 157).
42 “The rain storm had ended, the grey mist and clouds swept away, the wind itself had ceased, a brilliant deep blue sky, arched high over the moorland” (Burnett, 1969, p. 50).
43 “Springtime’s on its way” (Burnett, 1969, p. 50).
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well because of insistence by my mother to change my direction of study. I wanted to study music but my mother wanted me to become a nurse—I was very unhappy, so much so that I lost interest in school and did not gain a university entrance pass. I had to repeat my matric year but then I achieved good results.
My primary school was converted into a high school in 1976 and I commenced Standard 6 (Grade 8) in that year and remained in that school until my matric year in 1981. When thinking and writing about my high school years, I still get butterflies in my stomach as I had on the first day of high school as I waited in my old classroom. I was exceptionally excited, not only because I was now in high school but all traces of the primary school were slowly disappearing. Construction had been going on throughout the previous year and on the first day of school, the new classrooms with new furniture and shiny floors were such a welcome sight. The bathrooms designed for little children had been removed and in their place were gleaming new taps and toilets for high school learners.
Even the gardens had been replanted and the childish pictures on the walls in the corridors had been replaced with chrome and glass notice boards. There were no windows facing the corridors where teachers and the principal could look into the classrooms. I remembered feeling very safe somehow in this new environment. Below is a photograph of my high school as it looked when I took the photograph in July 2016 (Figure 5.1).
121 Figure 5.1 My high school (1976–1981)
The best part was that all the old primary school teachers, including the principal, were no longer there. There were lots of new learners from other schools and, although it was the same school, to me it felt like a new school. During the course of the day, we were put into classrooms with other learners and I was ecstatic to notice that there were mostly new kids and only a few learners from my previous class. I was very reserved and shy from my horrendous experiences in primary school;
I was not too forthcoming in making friends easily. In fact, I remember that I was just content sitting in my new classroom with my new desk and new teacher and with a sense of absolute peace. I felt that I was going to have my new beginning after all. This was soon realised when my new teacher introduced himself. It was strange for me because I had never had a male teacher before.
Surprisingly, I was not afraid because he was a gentle, kind, and caring person. I had the good fortune of being taught by this teacher in high school and later working with him as a colleague when he became an educational psychologist at the institution where I am employed. This teacher gave me back my life and demonstrated to me, in his teaching and by his disposition, what humanistic values and principles are.
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Apart from being the registration teacher of my class, he taught English, my favourite subject. For the first time we had to learn literature in English by reading short stories, novels, and plays. I was in my element especially when we read the plays and poems. My teacher assigned roles to different learners in the class and I remember having great fun reading the different parts. My teacher was a soft-spoken person but when he read poetry or Shakespeare, he came alive. He read with such enthusiasm and zest, he was like a completely different person. I identified with him totally, because I also came alive when I read poetry and Shakespeare. This teacher gave me the freedom to learn, to experiment, and discover myself. He gave us opportunities to write our own short sketches and plays and, during the English literature lesson, we had opportunity to act out our plays and sketches.
Irrespective of how poorly the play was written or acted, he had nothing but praise, encouragement, and good words for the class.
During that year, he gave the class a challenge to choose a play from our prescribed book that he would allow us to perform for the rest of the school. The play was called The Monkey’s Paw written by W. W. Jacobs (1902) and I got the lead role of a character named Bertha. I remember spending hours rehearsing my parts. It became the most exciting event of the year as we planned our costumes and put on makeup and practised after school. My friends and I used to arrive at school at 6:30 in the morning just to rehearse. I had never been so excited to go to school in my life, which had such a positive impact not only on my English marks but on my overall academic performance. I used to enthusiastically complete my homework, knowing I would be rehearsing later. The day of the play finally arrived and my friends and I got to school early in the morning. I had not been able to sleep that night and kept on waking up and trying on my costume. When we performed the play, it was such a success that we were asked to perform it for a whole week for all the grades. It earned me the nickname Bertha thereafter, but that did not matter. For the first time in my life I felt confident and noticed. I was no longer a “filthy pig” but someone who was admired. Although I was being teased with a nickname, it did not matter because I was being noticed. I realise, now, that I was so desperate for some recognition and attention that even being teased was not a problem. Standard 6 year was the year I came into being and became aware of my potential and capabilities.
I became outspoken in a good way because I had been afraid of answering questions in class for fear of ridicule. I was not aware of it, but my nervous twitch disappeared as I answered questions and participated in class. Even if my answers were incorrect, I was not afraid of failure—I would go ahead and answer. I even shocked myself with my change in attitude and manner but despite all this confidence, I never became arrogant. I was always humble because in the deep recesses of my mind
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there lurked that fear that I was not good enough. It never surfaced but remained dormant, nevertheless, it was there. My Standard 7 (Grade 9) year passed quite uneventfully.