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Ursula Collings W
CHAPTER FOUR THE STORIED NARRATIVES
Ursula Collings tells this story. She is a Coloured woman, a mother of three children teaching Biology in Bechet High, an institution that was once a Teacher Trainee College for Coloured teachers. This school is an ex-House of Representative school, which was historically created to serve the needs of the Coloured learners who resided in Sydenham. Ursula has been teaching in this school since her career began 11 years ago. The teachers in this school are predominantly Coloured. The principal is male and Indian. Ursula's classroom once served as a dormitory for the Coloured teacher trainees who attended this college. It is a rather large classroom with one side walled half way up. Her classroom is separated from the rest of the school buildings. The building is very old, the furniture grey. She has painted the walls, and adorned them with pictures and works belonging to the learners. At the back of the classroom is a little tiered rotating rack with books and a table displaying projects completed by the learners.
Growing up Coloured
My dad died when I was about 12 years old, while repairing the roof to his workshop. He was a victim of apartheid. Death put an end to a very outgoing, friendly and zestful man who was appropriately called "Jollyboy" by his family and friends.
I remember our family life being one of struggle, but we also had some good times. We were a close-knit family and we spent many happy weekends and holidays in Swaziland, where mum grew up as a young girl. On the farm in Swaziland is where I felt at home, where I experienced that spirit of freedom, the great outdoors and adventure. My cousins and I would race across to the kraals, where we could watch the slaughtering of the cows, sheep and pigs. The smell of the farm and the freshly slaughtered cattle always reminds me of my young days. Living on the farm gave me the opportunity to see the dissection of the cattle in a biological way. I watched the farm boys pull the cow strap and skin the hide.
The smell of animals and the bush is something I grew up with.
I enjoyed myself. Being on the farm gave me that sense of, "To heck with everybody else, I am enjoying myself".
But back home the reality of being Coloured turned our happy memories into one of struggle and pain. Dad, early in his chosen career set up his business as a spray painter and panel beater and he worked very hard at it. We never went to bed without a meal. He loved treating us with an outing whenever he could. I recall being in grade seven when he took us to a restaurant for supper, but we were thrown out because we were Black. Dad rarely became angry but this really upset him.
Dad wanted to set up his business in the city centre but he was not allowed to, so he was forced to set up his workshop at home in Sydenham, a Coloured township. But the health inspectors would often come and topple things over. "Looking for rats," they said. This really impacted on the business.
One day, while repairing the roof of the workshop, he stepped on a beam, which broke and dad fell to the ground breaking his neck. I am very bitter about what happened to him ... I really hate what happened to him ...
CHAPTER FOUR THE STORIED NARRATIVES
When dad died my mother became a stronger person. She could not linger in dad's shadow any more. There were still the three of us at school and suddenly she had to be the one to make decisions about her life and family. "You have to educate yourself, you have to have a profession. You cannot rely on your husband because the day he dies you have to stand on your own two feet", she often said. She always encouraged me to go on. Dad's death was a
"wake up" call that we all needed.
Gogo made me feel proud about being Coloured
When my dad died my granny - "Gogo" was what I affectionately called her - was the one who helped my mother through this tragedy. I was spoilt rotten by Gogo, my paternal grandmother. My gran was Coloured, born in Matatiel in the Transkei. Her mother was Black, and her father was German. I got a lot of guidance and counselling from her. She made me feel proud about being Coloured.
On a number of occasions I accompanied Gogo to town to collect her pension and I remember not being allowed to use the toilets and entrances to many of the buildings. I also recall the day when Gogo felt tired and we walked towards the benches in front of the city hall only to realise that the benches were reserved: "Whites only". We ended up sitting on the floor. Gogo was my strength, my inspiration and soul mate and she always reminded me, "Never give up, there is always hope."
Turn to nature
We were not rich and Gogo was the one who taught us to appreciate and to enjoy what little we had. She taught me a lot about the "environment". As a child, around six or seven years of age, I used to collect rocks of different sizes and colours and other little things in nature. I would collect flowers and leaves, pull them apart and press them into books. Nature fascinated me. Gogo developed in me this fascination for what plants can do for you. "Always turn to nature when in need," she told me. How true this proved to be.
I was in standard one, and I developed serious eczema, and because we had no medical aid, mum took me to the state hospital, but the doctors failed to help me. The fungus, which started in my hands, spread to both my feet. I was in great pain and the greater embarrassment was going to school for months on end without shoes. One weekend on the farm in Swaziland, Gogo went out into the fields and returned with what she described as
"wild tomato", which she sliced and packed onto my feet. After three years of pain and embarrassment, I was cured forever.
Gogo died ten years ago and it is actually very painful to talk about her because I miss her so much. At the age of 105 she was still able to fill in crossword puzzles and consult the dictionary. I have the bag that she crocheted for me as a wedding gift, made out of different Coloured plastic bags. Gogo also taught me about "recycling".
After Gogo died, mother became an important person in my life. She has become my best friend. I always say to her, "Thank the Lord for mothers."
CHAPTER FOUR THE STORJED NARRATIVES
A lot of work, a little understanding
I never liked pre-primary school. I often ran away to be home with my Gogo. I would cross the busy street in Sparks Road only to be "whacked" by mum all the way back to preschool.
She waS the driving force behind getting all of us through school.
St Augustines was a Catholic school, where I spent my early years of schooling. Miss Levine was a very firm teacher, but at the Same time I admired her strength. My voice actually sounds like hers. There was a lot of rote learning and a lot of hiding. Maths was my weakest subject. Mr Tiflyn our Maths teacher would hit us on the back of our heads in such ways that we would African out for a couple of seconds, or he would pick up our skirts and hit uS with a ruler on our legs. I think that is when I really began to hate maths and anyone who hit me on my head. Schooling was very traditional. Everything was done more out of fear of not succeeding.
In Bechet High school I had an excellent Biology teacher, Mrs Marianna Schreuder. I enjoyed it even more because I loved the subject. Jacky Steinbank and Mr Curtis were my favourite history teachers. Jacky was a "fighter" in the apartheid era. She fought for the freedom of African people and she brought that stance into the classroom and that strengthened my attitude towards life. I think in a way she was my mentor. Mr Curtis would run around the entire classroom. He would never teach from a textbook. He showed me that you don't have to act as a teacher and be this disciplinarian, and have this firm so- called "a teacher should be" attitude. He taught me to "let my guard down, enjoy the children, enjoy the day, enjoy teaching".
But the teacher who was a cut above the rest was my sister Angela. She taught me Biology in standard seven and eight and what I learned from her waS to "go the extra mile". Having her at school kept me on track. It made me determined to do better all the time, knowing that there was always someone watching over me. I wanted to improve, to prove that I could achieve and do better. I had to prove that I was good.
Generally schooling was very traditional right through to standard ten. It was like a volume of work with very little understanding of anything.
Becoming a teacher was not my first choice
I wanted to do radiology, but there were a limited number of Blacks being accepted into the department. I wanted to do law but money was an issue, so I just didn't follow it up.
My last option was to apply to become a teacher. I phoned Mr Jacobs, the rector at Bechet College of Education, and he agreed to accept me although I was a month behind the other students. Looking back I don't think I was ever destined to become a radiologist or a lawyer.
I spent four years at college registered for a Teachers Higher Diploma in Education majoring in Biology and History and I enjoyed every moment of it. Although the lectures did very little for me, I enjoyed having to go out to teach and speak about Biology and the sciences. Biology is real, I loved it. I have always had a fascination for Biology. Teaching Biology and the sciences is what brings out the best in me.
CHAPTER FOUR THE STORIED NARRATIVES
Back to Bechet Secondary
Bechet Secondary invites learners from very different backgrounds and experiences. It was originally a school for Coloureds but now we have learners from the various racial groupings. We have learners who came from wealthy backgrounds as well as those children who don't know where the next meal is going to come from. I found that separating myself from the context left me feeling very empty.
I shared with the learners the personal experiences that I had with my grandmother and my family. It is important for a child to See me and not just a "teacher"; they need to see me as a human being. They need to know what motivates me, so I tell them a lot about my past, as a child and as a young girl growing up on the farm, and about my own children.
I have always wanted to be an actor
I've always enjoyed and wanted to be on stage as an actor. And now I have my class as my stage and the children actually comment, ''Miss, you belong on the stage/~ I enjoy the freedom of being able to act out or role-play aspects of my teaching. My learners will always remember the looping movement of the hydra and predation and camouflage. I enjoy it. The children initially find this type of teaching really strange, but at the end of the day we have had a good laugh and they remember it. I must do my work and I must also feel good about what I am doing.
I have always done a sort of OBE, not necessarily group work, but I have always done things differently. I found the flexibility that it allowed me as a teacher important. I always felt teaching is not only about talk and chalk. Quite frankly education is a bore when it comes to just learning from a textbook. Engaging learners in activities makes education a lived experience. I love teaching and discussing issues on the school grounds sometimes, but many of the teachers look at me strangely as if to say, ''you are not really teaching the child/~ But I have seen my children having learnt to respect each other, learning to speak freely. They have grown.
But I am really finding it difficult coping with fifty learners in the classroom and only forty minutes to teach. I don't mind the preparation for my teaching but I hate the amount of paperwork that I am expected to do. The volume of recording is unreal. The more I try to put my finger on the pulse, there is something else coming from the office. I really don't like to be delayed. I don't like the cliques among the staff. I hate it. I'm me, accept me for who I am. I'm friend to everyone, it's less complicated and it prevents you from walking away from school being upset.
'T decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow, If I fai/, if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe . .. 11
My cup of tea
Teaching Biology is my cup of tea. It is a medium through which the learners and I discover ourselves. We understand our life and who we are through Biology. We discover the world through Biology. Understanding the child's background and emotions is all biological. We are Biology and we experience it in our entire daily life. It is real and relevant. We live it.
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CHAPTER FOUR THE STORIED NARRATIVES
When we go out on a field study, I find it easier to get to grips with the real thing than grapple in an artificial environment like the classroom. Having fifty learners in a class and the amount of paperwork does not allow me to get to know my learners as well as I would like to. I teach them how to grow vegetables, landscaping and design, an interest I picked up from reading. We engage in recycling projects and spend many weekends out in the nature reserve developing leadership ski lis.
Although we all go back to our homes and to the harsh reality of poverty and abuse, I am trying to continuously encourage the child, "in your home you can make a difference': I know it is difficult but I say to the children, "your dream and vision will bring you hope, you need to have that hope, so that you can come out of your present situation ':
I want to challenge them
I want to tap the potential of everyone of my learners, so I won't accept the child who does not want to give me an answer. If I do, it means that I have accepted that they don't want to be challenged to think:
"Why miss?"
Tandeka: "Why is it that you always say I must think about it, Miss?
Miss, because you know everything, you the teacher.
Ursula: If I had to tell you everything, you would remember it for a very short period of time and then you will forget.
(Tandeka remained silent for a few seconds ... and she asked again) Tandeka: Why do you not give us notes after I do this, Miss,?
You give us that picture and you ask us to make something of it .. . to make sense of it.
Why Miss?
Ursula remarked during the interview with me: Tandeka was questioning the whole approach that I initiated against what she had been accustomed to haVing. She wanted me to be her book of knowledge.
Ursula: Tandeka why must I tell you? Well, my baby, you are also my teacher.
I give the learners the space to interact with the work, allow them to get their understanding but to guide them at some point according to their understanding.
Allowing learners the opportunity to interact with the work also helps me in understanding the diversity of experiences that the learners bring with them into the classroom. I have Coloured learners in my classes who don't believe that they have a culture of their own and the Americanised culture is what they really appreciate.
I enjoy taking my learners out on excursions. Although the other teachers find it time- consuming and the large classes are difficult to cope with, I find this a very enjoyable way of teaching. It provides learners with the opportunity to research, reflect on their learning, through presentations that take a variety of forms. The whole class assesses the models and posters that are displayed in the classrooms.
Robben Island
I try not to shout and scream at my children. Instead I send them off to Robben Island, an area at the back of my classroom. The learners know that it's a time and a place for
CHAPTER FOUR THE STORIED NARRATIVES
them to sort out and reflect seriously on their work and what's happening within the classroom. When they feel ready to show themselves then they join the classroom community.
Sometimes these activities don't work as well as you want them to, and you have to understand that each class and each child is different. Then I meet with them during the breaks and after school and we have a one-on-one interaction. I find that when you have a one-on-one relationship with the child, I begil} to understand what the problems are and how to resolve them. Suddenly the child realises, "Hey, someone does care, someone is interested in me". At times I really feel we need a system of bridging, especially for the second language speakers.
"Teach them well and show them all the beauty they possess inside, give them a sense of pride ... "
Armstrong: "My mentor, my hero"
Armstrong left school to become a petrol attendant at the Shell Garage in Sherwood. He returned to our school three years later to continue with his Grade Ten (standard eight).
He claimed that he could not speak a word of English. I met Armstrong for the first time when he was in standard eight and he was the joke of the class because of his inability to speak and write English. I saw his potential and his desire. For the next two years we had extra lessons after school and at the end of Grade eleven, he achieved an A pass in Science. He ended up writing Biology on the higher grade in his matriculation examinations and he achieved an A pass again. Armstrong was determined to succeed and he showed me that through determination you could achieve anything. I always tell the children, "dare to dream, dare to have a vision because with vision there is hope".
Armstrong's dream was to be involved in landscaping and I motivated him to pursue that dream. I met him about four weeks ago, now the owner of his own little landscaping business called Armstrong Landscapers. I feel proud that I had a child who had so little and was able to do so much. Even if it is one child that I have touched, then I have touched the world. I call it "Armstrong's Story" and I share this with the other learners like Armstrong in my class with the hope of encouraging them too. Armstrong is my mentor, my hero. We learnt from each other.
"Everybody is searching for a hero, people need someone· to look up to, I never found anyone to fulfil my needs . .. a lonely place to be and so I learned to depend on me ... "
A little grain of sugar to sweeten the cup
Sally was untidy, from her dressing to her files. She was in a terrible state, a child who failed in every standard. Everyday I would inspire her in a small way about her appearance.
Sometimes I would comment on her hair and I didn't expect a drastic change. I wanted her to realise that the little things in life mattered: "a little grain of sugar to sweeten the cup" granny reminded me. Eventually it got to the point when she was underlining her headings, putting little frames around the page and gradually she had a very neat book.
Before she came into my class for Biology she'd make sure that her shirt was in and she was looking neat. Then her whole approach changed. She saw herself differently and we all saw her differently. She was important and her shoddiness shed away completely to reflect a beautiful child. Even the way she spoke was beautiful. Sally not only changed
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