My Classroom: Miniature desks and chairs, a quarter of them broken, are pushed together into small groups across the floor, although there aren't enough for each of our nearly 45 students. The only door leads out to the elements -- a large open air courtyard filled with dirt and rubbish where the children eat and play during break ("interval"). Several of our glass windows are shattered, while all of them are covered in bars to keep the world out.
The School: Cypress Primary holds grades R (Kindergarten) through 7. The property is surrounded by an iron fence and barbed wire. Looming in the not-so-distant distance, over the roofs of the ramshackle projects that surround the school on all sides, is the literally breathtaking Table Mountain, often covered with it's "tablecloth" of clouds when I pull up in the morning. While the school has recently acquired a new computer lab, I've never once seen the door to the room marked "Library" opened... nor even ajar. In fact, I've never even heard it mentioned in conversation, and for all I know, past volunteers may be imprisoned inside.
Meanwhile, when compared with other countries Western and African, South Africa ranks near rock bottom in literacy attainment and reading test scores. Riddle me THAT.
Thus far, however, I've got nothing but love for the staff and students at Cypress Primary. The few teachers I've really gotten to sit down and talk with are completely committed to working with these kids, going above and beyond the regular school-hour call-of-duty. You know the kind of educators I'm talking about -- the ones who get there early, stay there late, drive kids home, give out extra food, know every child's story, and buy the majority of their teaching resources with mad cash from their own humble pockets. Of course, not every teacher is this way, and Cypress is no exception to that rule. After studying staff photos hanging in the halls, however, I can see several of the people I joke around with in the break room every morning at ten have been at Cypress for YEARS, and that's saying something.
What's the big deal, you might be wondering. Many teachers hang out in one place for ages, haunting the same paste-smelling halls school year after school year. But Cypress is definitely a "have-not" kind of school, and most certainly a burn-out environment, even for the most persistent of earnest academic flames. Athlone, the township in which it is located, is better known for its gangsters, violent crime, and drugs (particularly heroine and 'tik') than anything else... except for perhaps it's depressingly apparent recent history, as well.
As we all know, it wasn't until the mid-90s that Apartheid finally bit the dust... which was, what, five seconds ago? I was in primary school myself, so what happened next would have directly affected me, had I lived in South Africa (this, specifically, blows my mind). Under Apartheid, race (as defined by the ruling white minority party) dictated everything -- where you were and weren't allowed to live, work, travel... and yes, where you were allowed to go to school. Not only that, if you were white, you went to the prettiest, pimpest, ballin' schools with all the resources, room, and educators money could buy. If you were classified Black, meanwhile, your schools were in the worst areas, under the worst conditions, and of the poorest quality curriculum you could find. If you were Coloured, your school sucked only a little less. Everyone lived separately from each other, pigeon-holed into their predetermined destiny, and grew up knowing their own neighbor as someone "different" and unapproachable. That was the reality, and now South Africa is working desperately to overcome it. It's slow and painful, let me tell you, and wildly interesting to see firsthand. The sea of shanty-houses just outside the city center in neighborhoods even worse off than the one my school is in is a testimony to how some parts of Cape Town and South Africa at large have not changed enough.
Cypress Primary falls in what was once strictly a Coloured township. Thus, many of the children live in "project" style housing (or even shipping containers, which are EVERYWHERE) and come from Afrikaans speaking families (although largely a less formal version of the language than that spoken by the former oppressors), The condition and resources within the school itself, as well as the demographics, are only just beginning to evolve. English is now the main language of instruction, although Afrikaans is also widely used, and many students travel from outside the immediate township from places like Langa, which is largely Black and Xhousa speaking.
I haven't been here long enough to give an accurate observation about whether or not much evolution has taken place, and if it's all been progressive and positive. What I do know is, according to the legislation, any student is now welcome there, as long as they can pay the fee. Still, I haven't seen a single "white" kid, and there isn't a single "white" teacher... except, of course, Me, as well as my fellow CCS Cypress volunteer/ partner in crime, Dave (who is now the unofficial Physical Education teacher... since they no longer have one). When Dave leaves in four weeks, it'll just be me (unless CCS puts another volunteer there).
Luckily, as I've said before, Dave and I have been most warmly welcomed at Cypress, so as of yet, there's been very little room for awkwardness or uncomfortable situations. Children continue to stroke my hair and arms, fascinated by the blondness, and most of them have endless questions for us about America (Have we ever met Obama? No? Surely Jay-Z?), but other than that, I feel more like a part of a community than a complete outsider. All of them call us "Sir" and "Miss," which I quite like, as it makes me feel less like a hot mess when I'm sweating in the heat and getting my curly hair pushed out of my face by a six-year-old boy as I bend over tiny desks and try to explain the plot of "Green Eggs and Ham."
Surprise, surprise, I'm starting to fall in love all over again. Just when I thought I had no room left in my bursting heart, not even for one more beautiful African child, I arrived at Cypress Primary. More information about specific children in my posts to follow, of course.
Just last night, I had yet another dream about my kiddos in Tanzania. Their faces won't leave my subconscious, and I'm not sure that they ever will. I wonder how long it will be before I start dreaming of Chad-lee and Lilitha and Alonzio of Athlone...
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