I never thought I would ever really do what I did a few days ago, considering that I am not the kind to be physical when establishing discipline and reprimanding my younger ones. It didn't need to happen, but it did anyway. This is a reflection on it.
You see, I started teaching at a school that I was posted to for my national service year about two months ago. It was my first time doing something like that—teaching a bunch of secondary school kids—so there were certain things that I was oblivious about. What made it even a little more challenging was that I didn't have the orientation I ought to have and was only assumed to know what to do. Apparently, I did not, and then things didn't go exactly as they should have.
What went wrong was that I didn't have a note prepared for them for a long time. I was asked to put notes together using the curriculum to teach from. The thing, however, was that the curriculum wasn't explicit. Therefore, I only came up with what I thought was right, but they were inadequate because I still didn't have a note compiled for them yet.
Here's the catch about writing with my hands: I find it to be a laborious thing to do. I have never liked to write. It's odd, I know, but I am only lucky to be able to begin with, so doing it extensively is often the worst chore you could give me. Managing my academics is more of a miracle for me. Hence, I was totally reluctant to put notes together for these kids.
The school management learned quickly that I still hadn't handed the students some notes, owing to my procrastination, and they intervened with a note frm one teacher. "Finally, it's about time!" I thought to myself. They could have just given that to me rather than having me do it when it was available.
At the time I got the note from the management, so many weeks had gone by, and myself and my students were lagging behind behind in the school's curriculum. The middle of the term came, and they were supposed to take tests around that time, but I just could not put them through tests when they had almost nothing to go over to prepare for. I devised a plan to salvage the situation.
I shifted the time to conduct the test for them by two weeks. In that time frame, I would then show up more regularly to teach them. I handed the captains the note to copy over the mid-term break, so that they would then use the next week to relay the note to their colleagues. Yes, "captains," and that's because there are two arms of classrooms that I have been assigned to.
One can imagine that writing on a board twice every time because of the two arms can be very laborious to handle alone to handle alone, and even more so when the boards are chalkboards. Jeez, the screeching that comes from using chalk on chalkboards irks me so much. I am one of those people in this world who do not respond well to screeching sounds.
To bring these students up to speed, they needed to have the notes copied as soon as possible. And to prepare them for their upcoming tests and actually "educate" them on the topics, I thought to give them deadlines and assignments and then teach them as often as I could.
The instructions they were to adhere to are as follows: "Write your notes as your captains write them on the chalkboards for you. When next Friday comes, you must have written up to the point where where your captains stop. On that same Friday, I would provide you with an assignment, and the solutions to the questions in that assignment should be provided on the following Monday, the day you would take your tests." This information had already been given to them very early.
Friday came, but it turned out that many of them decided to flunk my instructions. I was appalled by this behaviour of theirs. I expected it anyway, and so I had already informed them that there would be problems for those who disobeyed. I had to resort to using canes for the defaulting ones.
They are probably a hundred and forty students in total. There were 65 of them who disobeyed, and what I did was deliver on the promises I had given them concerning those who would default.
I had to issue 65 of them some strokes of cane. I wasn't happy that I had to, but the truth about African kids is that they usually only understand the language of the canes in certain conditions—and it shouldn't be so, but that's how we have been wired somehow, some of us. Boy, it, it w tiring to deal with all 65 of them. I felt physical pain afterwards, but it had to be done.
Guess what? They all now comply and show way more respect than they used to before that occurrence. "Tsk tsk," I said to myself when I realised that that incident had to happen for them to realise that they had to do better—else they'd get some strokes. The compliance came in very handy in their tests, thankfully. It was much easier to control them.
Everyone's surprised that I was damn strict and flogged them, even myself. I never liked it, though, and I haven't felt comfortable with it ever since. The truth, however, is that you really cannot take away the military mentality that I grew up with. Tolerating nonsense isn't in my blood because the military school I attended taught me to be respectful and to deliver discipline when necessary.
I do think that physically reprimanding a child isn't the best way to teach them to do better, and that talking is much more effective. In Africa, however, and the way we have been built, "sparing the rod and spoiling the child" is taken literally here, sadly.
Physically reprimanding isn't a thing I like to do or even derive joy from doing. Heck, I was so stressed out that day. And I have decided that I won't resort to that for another long time, when they'll make me do it again. Now, I just keep it simple and ride on the compliance that I have been able to get since that day. I hope it gets easier from now on, because handling these students can be such a headache most times...