Let's give the others some credit too

It’s been a while since I’ve been here – it’s been a busy year and I was blessed to get my Saturday Star platform back, so I had a space to rant and rave in – to whatever audience is left, now that newspapers have seemingly become surplus to most peoples’ requirement.

But - sorry for those of you who were tricked into clicking on the link - I’m back, and for my two cents worth, I’ve got a thing or two I want to say to those who bleed blood in the colours of the schools they went to/work at/have their kids at, or combinations of those.

You have to stop taking praise for others as a criticism of yourself, and you have to start accepting that there are other schools around, that the kids there have talent too, that they have good coaches too; that they work as hard as you do and, yes, that sometimes they are better than you.

I’m of the Baby Boomer generation so this new media has been tough for me to master, and the one thing I still don’t have handle on is Twitter. I often forget that it’s really true that you won’t change anything by getting into arguments with faceless strangers who only have 140 characters to make their point. And the increase to 280 seems to have made it worse not better - though it’s too early to say.

So I can kick myself for getting riled by replies to a Tweet I fired off on Friday night, although in my defence my critics weren’t faceless strangers, they were people I know, associated with a very good school: one that deserves, and gets, a lot of praise from me and others whose acclamation means a lot more than my low level opinions.

And that particular school was infinitely far from my mind when I tweeted that I was at the cricket dinner of St Stithians College and that I regarded them as the top cricket school in the land.

Quick as a flash, there was a reply from a very senior person in their community, with the results of the February fixture between the two schools attached, showing that, first team game aside, his school had by far the better of the results that day.

Fair play. I was guilty of a mistake that I often criticise others for: I confused the result of the first team game with the overall performance of the school on the day. We shouldn’t do that, but we all do anyway.

When I, and everyone else, celebrated the success of the school in question’s 1^st rugby team this year we weren’t looking at historical context – this was by far their most successful season in many years - neither were we necessarily looking at the overall balance of results in individual fixtures.

They would have come out on top of most of those, I’m sure, although given the quality of their opposition, I know there were probably one or two days where they were on the losing end, across the board.

No, in my opinion, that was the top rugby school in these parts, one of the best in the land, and all I had to base that opinion on were the results of the first team games that were trumpeted each week, quite a few of which I attended, and was captivated by their excellence.

So, when I say Saints is the top cricket school in the land, it has to do with the fact that their 1^st team has lost just three games in three and a half seasons – out of close to 80 – that they swept the board in local competitions; that they dominate the under-19 provincial selections, that they have won the national knockout competition two years in row, and that they have two players in the SA under-19 team that will be in action later in the month.

I wasn’t referring to, neither did I know about, the performance of their lower teams in a fixture back in February – although I do know now, thanks to the kindness of the gentleman who attached those results to his tweet.

I never attended a school that achieved the heights that those I report on do. Neither did I, in my teaching days, work at any schools who could match them. But I’ve been doing his for a while now and I can confirm that there are good players and coaches at more than just one school.

So, if someone says something nice about another team, or player, don’t take it as a criticism of yourself. Try instead to widen your vision. Give credit where it’s due and remember that arrogance is not a good thing to display while the young people you are educating are watching.

Enjoy the break. I’ll speak to you from the Khaya Majola Week, at St Stithians in December, where four of their players will be in action for Gauteng.

Tackling the education monster, one school at a time

On February 24th Partners for Possibility will be celebrating their 600^th partnership at a function in Cape Town.

Who are they, and what partnerships am I talking about, I hear you ask? I’ll tell you, and this time it’s worth more than just two cents.

Think of the biggest, hairiest and ugliest monster standing between us and a brighter future and it has to be the dismal state of basic education in the country.

According to a number of international rankings, South Africa lies close to - if not at the very bottom -  of the ladder when it comes to the quality of maths and science teaching, and those are just the subjects that they like to rank.

A shocking statistic you keep on hearing is that, of the 25 000-odd schools in the country, only 5 000 are functional. That includes the private and former model C schools, and the bar for functionality is not set very high.

All manner of evil flows from there – unemployment, unemployability due to inappropriate skills, poverty and crime. It’s a perpetuation of the inequalities engendered by the evils of the past. And the dire state of education persists despite basic education being the biggest line item in the national budget and despite the millions spent by well-meaning corporations on educational aid and developmental programmes.

Faced with all of this, Dr Louise van Rhyn decided six years ago, that she should do something about it and, being a leadership development expert, that’s where she began. She wondered if empowering the principals of those struggling schools to become effective leaders wouldn’t galvanise the teachers, and encourage communities to become involved in the education of their children. And couldn’t we, one school at a time, begin to solve the problem?

The idea she came up with was to tap into the expertise of business leaders, and the willingness of businesses to make a contribution. Let’s partner a business leader with a school principal, she thought. Together they could tackle the problems facing the school, using the one’s business acumen and the other’s passion for teaching children. The school would benefit and both would learn a hell of a lot from the experience – even more if the process was structured to ensure meaningful engagement, between the partners themselves, and other partnerships in a similar position.

So, she tried it out, using herself as the pilot project. She began working with the principal of a primary school in Grassy Park Cape Town, and they are still together six years on.

That was Partners for Possibility partnership number one. Last week in Joburg they announced number 500 and in fortnight’s time in Cape Town they will be celebrating number 600. There have been some hiccups, of course, but the success stories coming out of those liaisons are staggering.

Giving the principals of schools that could be counted among the 20 000 dysfunctional institutions the opportunity to show that they can be every bit as effective as leaders as those on the other side of the divide has been the greatest achievement of the programme.

And it’s being done by giving them a thinking partner who will listen to them; offer, and ask for, advice; and walk beside them on their journey.

That there are now 600 of those partnerships out there now, and the number is growing, is cause for celebration. The hairy monster’s still there, but people are beginning to stand up to him.

To find out more visit http://www.pfp4sa.org

The principals need to get down to business

No-one who has not actually been tasked with drawing up the timetable in a high school knows how difficult a job it can be.

There are computer programmes that will do it for you these days, but back in the early 1990s when it was my job, as part of a small team, to balance the conflicting demands and requests of those who would be teaching the classes the next year, there was no effective electronic way of making everything fit in.

We were battling away manfully in the November heat one year with our metal board and little magnetic counters, when our esteemed leader, the school principal popped in and dropped a bombshell.

The school was lucky, he told us, to secure the services of a 1^st rate maths teacher for the following year. She had produced stellar results at one of the private schools before giving up to start a family.

Now she was prepared to return to the classroom, but there were conditions attached. She insisted on a four-day week – Thursday was market day – and she had to be finished by 1pm every day so that she could do the afternoon school run.

He agreed. Nothing, not even our, then, respectable 1^st team rugby results, he told us, was more important than a 100% pass rate in mathematics, and a healthy crop of distinctions.

Imagine the size of the spanner that threw into the half completed works of our timetable in progress!

It wasn’t an invitation to a debate either, the man – and he was the best principal I ever worked for – didn’t operate that way.

So, we swept the board clean and started from scratch. The added restrictions meant that it took twice as long to do the job that year, but the maths results in the next, and for as long as that particular teacher was at the school, were among the best in the province.

That was in the bad old days, of course. The school was better resourced than the vast majority of schools in the land and the parents of those matrics were willing, and able, to fork out the extra cash needed to bring that brilliant teacher in.

Schools like that are still producing 100% pass rates, and raking in the As. They are living the unequal legacy, I know, but they also have that kind of leadership in charge of them.

The principal, if you think about it, managed the situation in text book business leadership/management fashion. He identified the problem; assigned it top priority; formulated a solution; found the resources to fund it; and motivated his team to implement it.

And it worked! Mrs Maths-whiz wouldn’t have lasted long if she didn’t produce the goods.

Now, 25 years on, we read how the country lies second from last on international rankings of school maths performance (and that’s factoring in the world class results of the top schools) and 22 years after the introduction of the new education department there has been no improvement.

In the wake of the release of the matric results last week I read several articles indicating that things are actually a lot worse than they have been presented to be.

One or two dealt with the continued poor performance in maths. One in particular, on the Daily Maverick site asks the question: “School maths: what is our story?

https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/article/2017-01-08-school-maths-what-is-our-story/#.WHMm_KAjrrB.email

It’s an excellent analysis of what’s wrong with the teaching of maths in our schools, and it points out that there also one or two positive signs.

It got me thinking about my days in education, and the lengths my principal went to in that particular case to ensure that our maths teaching was top-notch.

And it occurred to that that’s what’s missing in the analysis I was reading – the role of effective leadership in solving the maths crisis.

My boss that year had no business training that I know of, but he tackled the problem along business lines. There would have been successful businessmen and women aplenty on the school’s governing body and perhaps he was advised by them. He certainly got their buy-in for his plan.

The principals of the vast majority of our schools don’t have that kind of experience and expertise to call on. They are very much on their own and no amount of explaining the downfall of maths teaching in terms of unqualified teachers; over-focus on grade 12 to the detriment of the foundation phases; and interference by the unions is going to help them come up with innovative solutions.

So, if I were to toss in my two cents worth, it would be to say let’s start with the principals. If the heads of those struggling schools could learn to approach problems in a business-like way like we did all those years ago, they would stand a better chance of solving them.

It won’t be easy, but it could make a difference quite quickly if we were to get the leadership of the schools going well, one at a time.

That would be a good place to start.

The talent drain is going to continue

After hearing Cindy Poluta struggle to explain exactly what a Kolpak contract was on 702 the other day I was glad to find a “primer” on the topic on Espn Cricinfo last week.

It gives the background to the special dispensation and explains how South African cricketers can work as European Union citizens in the UK because of a trade agreement we have with the EU.

Players from South Africa (among other countries) can, therefore, be contracted to county cricket sides without taking up one of their overseas player spots.

It’s been cozy, until Brexit came along and now it looks like it will all end soon.

It’s a thing right now because of Kyle Abbott’s and Rilee Rossouw’s imminent departure to join Hampshire as Kolpak players.

The article follows a question/answer format and it makes it all very clear. There is however, a bit if editorialising when it comes to explaining why an SA player would consider such a move.

Here’s what it says:

“But why would a member of the South Africa international team give up Test cricket?  - South African cricket has a quota system. In September last year, Cricket South Africa announced that a maximum of five white players can be picked in the eleven, on average. This means some white players, such as Kyle Abbott and Rilee Rossouw, may not get as many chances to play for South Africa and are hence choosing to move to England.”

Now, Abbott (Rossouw has been silent) is adamant that his decision has nothing to do with quotas. It’s about job security and, no doubt, the money. He sees himself as a fringe player, never certain of a starting spot in the Proteas team. Rossouw is certainly that.

Unsurprisingly, the social media has weighed in and, in the South Africa way, you have those who are loudly condemning the pair as sellouts who won’t be missed and who never really had transformation at heart; and you have those who equally stridently see them as trailblazers, leading an exodus of white players who have had the door shut on them.

How would I know what the truth is? I do, however believe that it lies somewhere in between. It’s a fact that there are now only five spots for white players in our national teams, and at the same time, yes, we need the buy-in and long-term commitment of white players if the, absolutely necessary, transformation of the game is to happen.

But I don’t think it’s been done properly. Saying, as they did last week, that there are still as many opportunities for white players as there have ever been, without explaining how that is, is just not good enough.

It’s wrong, of course, to use these two players as an illustration. They have both been given ample chances, white or not, and if they were better players they would be fixtures in the team – there are other whites who are.

No the real problems lie lower down. Not all of them are Kolpak players, some have British ancestry, but we are bleeding talented players at the under-19 level.

Keaton Jennings is the best-known current example. Gauteng’s Connor McKerr – the standout bowler in his generation is also gone, and don’t be shocked if one or two more leave as a result of last year’s SA Schools selections.

And why do we all act so surprised. It’s being going on for a while in rugby, to the extent that it’s become quite easy to pick a team of overseas players that would probably beat the Springboks (especially the 2016 lot).

It accelerated in the last two years as the quota of white players dwindled and the disturbing part is that it is young players going abroad now, not veterans looking for a final financial windfall to secure their post-rugby futures.

For my two cents worth, I’m with the doomsayers who believe the same is going to happen in cricket now, although I don’t agree that it will mean the demise of SA as a world power in the game. I don’t believe that’s the case with rugby either, the 2016 debacle notwithstanding.

Our school system is so strong, and there’s so much talent around that we will survive, and if those in control work out a way of doing things better we can even be the best in the world again.

Really develop the game, among all children in the country, and who is going to stop us?

You can read Espncrickonfo’s explanation of the Kolpak system at:

http://www.espncricinfo.com/england/content/story/1075718.html