The PDF of the Job ad is available here.
(+ a sneak-peak of our 2019 Annual Report which should be out soon!)
The PDF of the Job ad is available here.
(+ a sneak-peak of our 2019 Annual Report which should be out soon!)
As many of you know I’m currently seconded to the Allan Gray Orbis Foundation Endowment to develop the “Funda Wande: Reading for Meaning” program. The aim of that is to equip teachers in no-fee schools with the resources and training they need to teach reading for meaning by age 10 (this video explains it well). We have now also initiated a sister program for Grade 1-3 mathematics: “Bala Wande: Calculating with Confidence.” The program is headed by two of South Africa’s mathematics stalwarts: Ingrid Sapire and Lynn Bowie and includes a formal collaboration with Nelson Mandela Institute’s Magic Classroom Collective who have been working in this area for a long time. The aim is to develop fully bilingual learner activity booklets and video-based teacher guides for Grade 1-3 in all South Africa’s official languages. The big aim is to delink price and quality, and offer “best in the world”, in African languages, openly-licensed and widely available. If the pharmaceutical industry can create ‘generic drugs’ (same quality but MUCH cheaper), we can do the same with early learning resources!
The policy at Funda Wande (and Bala Wande) is that open is always better than closed. Everything we make is Creative Commons licensed and freely available for download. We also have a rule that everything we provide to our intervention schools must be available on our website and on our YouTube page within 2 weeks of it being delivered in our schools. Anyone is welcome to download and use any of our materials for free, and you don’t even need to ask us for permission to do so (but it’s nice to know who’s using them so please do! 🙂
Today we uploaded our first mathematics materials and I am very proud of them. They are the isiXhosa Grade 1 Term 1 Learner Activity Booklet and the corresponding Teacher Guide. Please take a look at them and share them with anyone who might be interested. We are currently running a Randomised Control Trial (RCT) in the Eastern Cape to test the efficacy of the materials and teacher coaches (Grade 1 in 2020; Grade 1+2 in 2021; Grade 1+2+3 in 2022) – more to come on that in due course. Here are some excerpts from the Learner Activity Booklet and Teacher Guide:
We are always looking to collaborate with people who are passionate about Grade R-3 mathematics in South Africa. If you’re an expert on Foundation Phase Maths and speak an African home language email your CV to ingrid[at]fundawande.org and we can see if there are ways of collaborating!
Watch this space 🙂
This article first appeared in the Business Day on 22 Jan 2020 under the title “Putting golf club needs above social housing is one way the rich fail the poor“
With sex and religion, South Africans don’t like talking about their annual income. We thus often have wildly incorrect estimates of what other people earn and where we fit in the income distribution.
That’s where research can help. A 2019 report by Stats SA and the Southern Africa Labour and Development Research Unit (Saldru) shows that the rich are getting richer and the poor poorer.
If SA was made up of 100 people and we lined them up from richest to poorest, the 10th poorest person’s income declined 15% and the 99th person’s income (richest 1%) increased 48% from 2011-2015.
To be in the top 1% in 2015 you needed to have an annual taxable income of R1m or more, making you one of only 350,000 South Africans (R400,000 a year put you in the top 5%). That’s according to Ingrid Woolard’s analysis of anonymised SA Revenue Service (Sars) tax data for her 2019 inaugural lecture at Stellenbosch University, in which she showed that since 2003 the incomes of the top 5% have consistently grown faster than everyone else’s in SA, and especially that of the poor.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise since it is largely in keeping with the negotiated settlement and ANC policy. The post-apartheid social compact was a straightforward quid pro quo: “If you pay your taxes and agree to pay for most of your own health, security and education services, you can keep your property, your wealth, your privilege and your place in society”.
Nowadays, about 5%-15% of South Africans opt out of all public services; 17% have private medical aid, 7% have private security, and 5% have private schooling or high-fee (R12,000-plus per annum) public schooling, according to the general household survey (GHS) 2016-17 and Stats SA victims of crime (VOC) survey 2017-18.
For God’s sake, there are 23 other golf courses and driving ranges in Cape Town and another one literally next door: the King David Mowbray Golf Club
The main reason this is a problem is that the new “integrated elite” governing SA are totally unaffected (and uninterested) in the challenges 70% of the population face.
Redress and transformation are impossible while those in government are unwilling to take the risks on which they campaigned, and for which they were elected. Implementing the National Development Plan, arresting corrupt politicians, large-scale social housing, land redistribution, well-funded long-term teacher development — we only ever hear plans. Name one corrupt politician currently in jail.
Some of these are complicated initiatives that involve long-term appointments, policy reform, and court cases, but even when they don’t the political will is lacking. The most recent and visceral example of this is Cape Town’s indefensible decision to renew the 10-year lease of the Rondebosch Golf Club rather than use it for social housing.
In one of the world’s most spatially-segregated cities, the city in its wisdom has chosen to renew the lease of 450,000m² of prime public land to the Rondebosch Golf Club. And in exchange it asks for the princely sum of R1,000 a year in rent.
This is for the equivalent of 45 rugby fields of public land in the middle of Cape Town. Rather than prioritise the needs of those who live in shacks and are physically excluded from economic opportunity, services and schools, the city instead advocates for the needs of golfers. For God’s sake, there are 23 other golf courses and driving ranges in Cape Town and another one literally next door: the King David Mowbray Golf Club.
Why does the city consistently oppose civil society when it shows countless sites for social housing and shows the economic viability of using cross-subsidisation models proven in Spain and Hong Kong? In an excellent report on city leases, Ndifuna Ukwazi has shown five viable sites for social housing in Cape Town, yet they are ignored. Where is the city’s courage (or shame) to actually implement its own policies? Through its choices and lack of action, Cape Town spits on the needs of the poor and panders to the rich.
I often wonder how long the SA status quo can carry on before Paris-style gilets jaunes protests break out and stop everything. There is a line in the latest Batman movie in which Catwoman turns to Bruce Wayne and says:
“There’s a storm coming, Mr Wayne. You and your friends better batten down the hatches, because when it hits you’re all gonna wonder how you ever thought you could live so large and leave so little for the rest of us.”
I was happy to see an early Christmas present in my emails today. A paper I wrote with my co-author, Dr Nwabisa Makaluza, was released online today! The full ungated article is available HERE. We tried to take all of the education data that we could get our hands on from 1995 – 2018 and see where and when girls do better or worse than boys. This is one of those empirical questions where we don’t have to rely on the unsubstantiated claims of every Tom, Dick and Harry around the braai. The evidence is pretty clear: Given the way girls are, the way they are socialised, the way we organise schools and the way we assess kids, girls do better than boys.
South Africa today is the most unequal country in the world. The richest 10% of South Africans lay claim to 65% of national income and 90% of national wealth; the largest 90–10 gap in the world. These inequities are mirrored in the education system where we have 20% of schools that are broadly functional, and 80% that are mostly dysfunctional. Because of this, two decades after apartheid it is still the case that the life chances of the average South African child are determined not by their ability or the result of hard-work and determination, but instead by the colour of their skin, the province of their birth, and the wealth of their parents. These realities are so deterministic that before a child’s seventh birthday one can predict with some precision whether they will inherit a life of chronic poverty and sustained unemployment or a dignified life and meaningful work. The sheer magnitude of these inequities is incredible. We have private schools charging R300,000 a year, and public schools where children drown in pit latrines. Last year (2018), the top 200 high schools in the country had more students in matric achieving distinctions in Mathematics (80%+) than the remaining 6,600 combined. Put differently 3% of South African high schools produce more Mathematics distinctions than the remaining 97% put together.
In a few years’ time when we look back on three decades of democracy in South Africa, it is this conundrum – the stubbornness of inequality and its patterns of persistence – that will stand out amongst the rest as the most demanding of explanation, justification and analysis. This is because inequality needs to be justified; you need to tell a story about why this level of inequality is acceptable or unacceptable. As South Africans what is the story that we tell ourselves about inequality and how far we have come since 1994? Have we accepted our current trajectory as the only path out of stubbornly high and problematically patterned inequality? Are there different and preferential equilibria we have not yet thought of or explored, and if so what are they? In practical terms, how does one get to a more equitable distribution of teachers, resources or learning outcomes? And what are the political and financial price-tags attached to doing so?
Our post-apartheid education system is currently an awkward fusion of apartheid systems serving post-apartheid societies. What the apartheid government used to perpetuate privilege and to act as a lever for rapid poor-White social mobility, post-apartheid society uses as a lever for Black middle-class mobility. Today Black and Coloured learners make up 60% of those attending former White-only fee-charging schools. Thus, a small, separate and functional school system, created to privilege one section of the population and exclude others remained intact but the discriminating principle simply morphed over time from race to fees. We now have a ‘pay-to-play’ system. If you want your child to have a decent shot at life, you need to get them into a good school. In that sense, school fees have become the current price of dignity in South Africa.
Reflecting on our particular journey out of apartheid, we can see that our country has become a case study of how politics and policy interact with unequal starting conditions to perpetuate a system of poverty and privilege. We are witnessing a process unfolding where an unjustifiable and illegitimate racial education system (apartheid) morphs and evolves to one that is more justifiable and somewhat non-racial, all the while accommodating a small privileged class of South Africans who are not bound to the shared fate of their fellow citizens.
The post-apartheid government has made important strides in trying times; educational outcomes are really improving, the Child Support Grant has significantly reduced poverty and deprivation for large swathes of the country, and access to basic services have undeniably improved across the board. Yet we must also be honest and say that our collective political imagination has come up short. We lack a believable vision of a more equal country where everyone has basic dignity, and even more so, we lack a believable plan of how to get there. While there has been some tinkering around the edges of the political and economic possibilities available to us, we cannot point to a country-wide initiative that has made significant inroads into the gross inequity that is visible everywhere we look.
We need bolder policies and bolder politicians. We need our elected officials to actually visit the pit latrines that our children drown in. Consultants prophesying coding and tech must actually speak to children in the 26% of South African schools that still don’t have running water in 2019. Let them drink laptops. Surely we can muster the political will and societal shame to put an end to these visceral daily injustices? We need officials who have the courage and the mandate to fire corrupt or incompetent officials currently shuffling between government ministries with no consequences. But we also need those with the moral clarity to take on comfortable elites who resist wealth taxes, land reform and social housing. Whatever the story is that we keep telling ourselves to justify our obscene levels of inequality, the poor and excluded will not believe it forever.
This article first appeared in the Financial Mail on the 24th of October 2019). It is an extract from my chapter in our new book “South African Schooling: The Enigma of Inequality” which is co-edited by myself and Jonathan Jansen (published by Springer in November 2019).