Aug 072012
 

Being in southern Africa has given me a new perspective on the debate over technology and education.

We shrink distance and build empathy by storytelling. Empathy, as Gloria Steinem once said, is the most revolutionary of emotions.

In the Global North, apart from a polite conversation in the New York Times and the Guardian, it has become a generally accepted truth that money spent on technology is money well spent. The stuff’s cool, the kids seem happy and anyway, who has time to talk? Laptop programs are being replaced by iPad programs and Salman Khan is a household name. If your kid’s classroom isn’t flipped, you’re probably a bad parent.

Recently, though, some murmurs of concern have bubbled up: does filling classrooms with computers actually increase the quality of education? One upside of devastating budgets cuts is that calls for proof that money delivers impact are getting louder. Most people are well-equipped to join the debate, voice their opinions and vote. We might also consider asking the children: a recent student newspaper at a wealthy London school carried an article begging teachers to stop spending money on technology, not least because the boys’ locker rooms were full of discarded interactive white boards.

In the Global South, however, many parents, teachers and learners are having these decisions made for them. Governments are eager to bridge the digital divide, while well-intentioned donors and foundations are tripping over in their haste to wire up classrooms and get everyone online: it’s physical, impressive and has great ‘before and after’ appeal.

But does technology increase learning? Not if:

• Power is unpredictable, bandwidth limited and download speed snail-like

• Computers are regularly stolen

• There aren’t enough qualified IT teachers or money for training

• Nobody knows which websites or software to use

• Computers break or do weird things that can’t be fixed

• Computers can’t be upgraded regularly, virus-protected and maintained

• The are no projectors or printers.

So what then should tax and donor dollars be spent on in the Global South?

Unless you have a transcendent skill the chances are that it is your personality and your people and communication skills that will play the greatest single part in determining your future success

People.

In the North too.

Here’s why:

Unless you have a transcendent skill – art, entrepreneurship, languages – the chances are that it is your personality and your people and communication skills that will play the greatest single part in determining your future success. Teachers see this every day. They also help young people develop their identity, their confidence and their mastery of how to move through the world. They act as mentors, guides and role models. Technology does not.

Technology distances people and prevents them from connecting and learning from one another. Of course it facilitates some kinds of connection, but not the kind we need most.

At one of the UK’s outstanding state (public) schools, all non-core curricular teaching time has been filled with a school-designed relationship curriculum. Many young people, particularly those from complicated, traumatised or deprived backgrounds, haven’t been shown how to form relationships – with one another, authority figures, their parents or siblings.

Whilst online bullying, sexting, inappropriate contact by predatory adults and young people intentionally or unintentionally witnessing hardcore pornography are clearly problems, so too is the fact that we just don’t talk anymore.

One more thing: whilst technology can certainly be engaging, recent research has found that a new digital divide is opening up, as children from lower income families increasingly use it for ‘time-wasting’ – games, social networking and watching videos.

One of the Global South’s great advantages is that it can leapfrog the North’s mistakes. If it’s too soon to see what those mistakes might be, then it’s too soon to make significant investments.

One of the Global South’s great advantages is that it can leapfrog the North’s mistakes. If it’s too soon to see what those mistakes might be, then it’s too soon to make significant investments.

So what do we spend those donor dollars on?

Identifying future teachers, school leaders, governors and trustees and giving them the best training and support we can:

• Supporting them through college

• Pairing them with mentors and master teachers

• Providing clear job descriptions, regular evaluation and professional development

• Paying them reliable and reasonable wages; creating structured and secure careers

• Equipping classrooms with basic supplies

• Giving all school communities access to a library

• Guaranteeing every child access to safe bathrooms

• Ensuring that all students have at least one meal a day at school, uniforms, including shoes, bus fare and textbooks.

 I felt pretty strongly about this, but thought I’d just check with a couple of experts. Since I’m here at the African Leadership Academy in Johannesburg, I asked 2 of their most recent graduates:

I is from Ghana, where her brother is a teacher. Every day he has to cross a river to get to his school but many of his students will not be there, because there is work at the plantations. Like many of his colleagues he is demoralised and badly paid and has little hope of things getting better.

F is from Mali. There are not enough schools in the region she comes from, so she is going to start one. She already has backing from a powerful set of supporters, who were no doubt as impressed as I when they learned that 2 years ago she spoke no English.

For both girls, technology is a low priority.

Finally, the front page of one of last week’s newspapers carried the headline ‘IOUs Instead of Cash Stun Teachers’. Their pensions were raided for wages, but now neither are being paid. Inside was the separate story of a recently discovered cache of textbooks, destroyed and abandoned, never delivered to schools.

So teachers first. When the fundamentals are in place, by all means bring in the technology: train the teachers, invest in maintenance and let technology’s magic work. But don’t forget that before we had technology we had imagination, and one another. We can’t afford to lose either.

May 052012
 

Often the discovery of natural resources can feel like a curse, but last year I was at the opening of a school that proved the opposite can also be true. Lebone II was built with the riches of the Royal Bafokeng Nation and a vision that’s all about people.

Perched on the edge of the wind-sculpted hills of South Africa’s North West Province, even the location of the school is significant: this is the site of the traditional ceremonies to initiate young people into adulthood. The red earth and brilliant blue sky are incredibly beautiful, but the view also includes the smoke from the platinum mines, source of the Bafokeng’s enormous wealth and some 80% of the world supply. It’s a constant reminder of the responsibilities for the next generation. In return for a world-class education these young people will be expected to stay and build their nation – and there’s a lot of work to be done.

Chances of success are greatly improved by the leadership of their dashing young king, Kgosi Leruo Tshekedi Molotlegi. Helicopter pilot, architect and owner of a knee-weakening smile, he personally chose the site of the school (after flying over every inch of his kingdom) and the winning design for the buildings. Although he never expected to rule, when faced with the deaths of both older brothers, he took on the role and their legacy with inspiring passion. He is exactly the sort of king, queen, president or prime minister the world needs more of – and a dazzling role model.

The product of an ‘English’ African education, Kgosi Leruo is determined that Lebone II will be African African. The dappled heart of the school is a central amphitheatre that mimics the traditional African meeting space under a tree – with the shade provided by a stunning chain-mail roof. Around this are classrooms and labs, each built for teaching both children and teachers. Observation areas have been discretely built in, and every classroom has been decorated on a budget of nothing – with student work, scrounged movie posters and colour charts left behind by the painters. This is not a posh boarding school for the elite, but a buzzing hub for sharing best practice. Lebone is connected to 45 partner schools and workshops are held every week for local teachers.

Everything about the school is underpinned by the Zulu word ‘ubuntu’, or its Tswana twin ‘botho’, roughly translated as ‘I can only be me because you are you.’ So the outreach programme, for which the school closes early every wednesday, is underpinned by the simple idea that “whatever we teach or learn here, we’re still people, and part of our community.” Placements involve visiting a prison, feeding the elderly, working with orphans or reading to the blind.

If this all sounds a bit worthy, then it’s time to meet the students, unmissable in startling blue and green uniforms. 70% Bafokeng, 30% from other southern African countries, they not only work hard but are armed with a devastating, infectious charm. Respectful to the core, they whooped and cheered as the lengthy speeches were followed by their teachers’ enthusiastic but shaky attempt at line dancing. Seconds later, at a signal from their leader, a blue and green flood poured down the steps of the amphitheatre in a joyful demonstration of how it’s done.

If platinum can do this, then I can’t wait to see what oil, coal, diamonds and shale gas can do.