A History of Education: Between Nostalgia and Reality

In my early years in school, primary school started at 7.30am and ended by 12.30pm; leaving plenty of time to have lunch at home, get through my homework, take the about 10 minutes hike to the local library to borrow new comic books or climb the mango tree behind my house to try my hands at plucking the sun out of the sky; cook rice and sauce on a pretend fire (backyard soil with no ants made for good rice and bougainvillea flowers mashed in water with a few pieces of sticks made a good sauce), have a good wash, then get through the daily English or Math exercise my mother had left me for the day- all this, before 4pm when my mother the spoil sport would return from work.

This was the time when history, geography, sports, singing classes, library periods and arts and crafts were a part of the school program not matters that are constantly under negotiation for space on the time-table. I still remember the time I spent molding clay in school, spraying patterns of colors on canvass and breaking off crayons for fun in arts class in the name of drawing. Then singing time, oh how I loved it! We were taught loads of songs and we sang cheerily. My favorite song in nursery was;

“The e ber so o me e e to o hol e wedding in amo de tree so gri fiddi lalala fiddi lalala fiddi lala lala la a”- as delivered by the dandy “Little Ones” class. A few years later while in upper primary and still singing, my nursery song had developed to;

“The birds all met to hold a wedding in among the trees so green, fiddi lalala...” Beautiful song, beautiful times. My mom was certain singing songs and hymns helped with vocabulary, grammar and phonetics. I think she was right about this one but it didn’t matter, I just loved the singing bit of school and kept my “singing exercise book” well.

In these times, the Middle School system was still running minimally; six years of primary education and 4 years pre-secondary education – an absurd colonial shackle. Many schools were turning to the program in fashion; the one that led to the Common Entrance Exam at the end of 6 years of primary education, Ordinary Level Certificate at the end of 5 years of secondary education and Advanced Level Certificate at the end of an additional 2 years of secondary education. From then on it was university all the way.

Extra classes in schools did not exist; you either made it with the formal school time available or you were probably too dense to be helped anyway. Much later kids with learning or more aptly exam passing challenges were put to private extra tuition after school by parents. These situations were rare and had nothing to do with school time because generally there was no question about the adequacy of the school time to cover the syllabus.

I recall my brother and his friends making fun of someone they claimed had been to collect his Common Entrance results with a basket from the West African Examination Council (WAEC) offices.  What they meant was that the fellow had scored 9s, 8s, 7s so instead of the expected say six ones which gave a single digit aggregate (no pun intended); the poor fellow needed a basket because he had to carry an aggregate of 45. Actually his aggregate was about 20. Still this was simply unbelievable and hilarious for the young devils in the late 1970s or early 80s. People like the hapless young man with the basket had to repeat their exam class and for the O’ Level exam, return to 4^th or 5^th year in a mainstream school to re-write the exam. Special schools for re-writing examinations had yet to materialize.

In the mid 80s a few famed schools started organizing classes during the long vacations (June to August). I attended once after much pleading with my parents, citing what most youngsters offered as justification for attending the classes – the schools had the best teachers and tended to teach stuff that was invaluable for passing the O’ and A’ level examinations. My experience did not really support that justification but then again I never was a good learner in class. It seemed to me most kids wanted a forum to socialize and the schools (teachers) had found a niche for making extra money. On hindsight, probably there was a real need.

By the time I was readying for university, late 1980s that is, the country’s educational system had seen a bit of a turn. The Junior and Senior Secondary School, now Junior and Senior High (JSS and SSS) system was in place.

In primary schools, geography, history and the likes gave way to social studies and religious and moral studies. Singing and library periods went out the window and sports or games had become synonymous with football where it existed. No more Common Entrance Examinations; after year six pupils shot straight into Junior Form One on the basis of some dodgy continuous assessment system. Most significantly schools started around 7.30 am or 8 am and ended anytime between 3pm and 4pm. Lunch was no more possible at home and all the things I did after school in my primary school days was not possible. You know, little time for personal reading of just “stuff”, climbing trees, socializing with neighborhood kids etc. It is said the extra hours were necessary for “extra-curricular” activities or extra lessons. I have never quite understood that, being “old school” and all. I mean in my time the games or sports and extra-curricular activities did not require extra time and we still got through the syllabus! Besides, the time between getting home from school and mother returning from work was kids’ prime time in which important life’s lessons were learned!

The new system also meant Inter-College (inter-co) sporting showdowns with all the “jama” suffered setbacks in secondary schools because the 7 year system was replaced with a 2-tier 6 year system; the first 3 effectively taken out of the boarding system and annexed to primary level education.

I carried out my then mandatory one year national service before university in these times. My task was to teach French and English in a public JSS only 30 minutes drive from the country’s capital. After my first week, there was mutual consent between all stakeholders (myself and the JSS1 and 2 kids I was to teach) that my purpose was ill-defined. This was because except for about 3 “out of place” students the rest were starkly illiterate. I mean they could not so much as recognize the alphabet!

I spent the entire year of national service teaching the Junior Secondary forms one and two students the alphabet and to read!

Much later and closer to now the landscape has an interesting character; nurseries and kindergartens have waiting lists for taking in little ones some of whom are yet to be conceived.

5-year old kids write exams and formally pass out of kindergarten in graduation ceremonies that universities could learn from.

Remedial schools; schools that are usually targeted at the Senior High School level examination and cater to those students who have failed to make grades good enough to take them to the next level, are increasing so fast that they will soon overtake mainstream schools by their numbers.

Almost all privately established schools have rebelled against the public school system at the primary level and turned back to systems somewhat similar to my type of primary education. Only this time they are labeled differently; “International”, “Montessori”, yadah yadah yadah and claim to run the British or American system which the average middle class citizen prefers (and can afford) for their kid.  

“University colleges” are springing up all over; many of them resembling corner shops.

Many public schools are scoring 0% (is there such a thing?) in the Junior High School examinations. Now this is not surprising, my students in my national service days were bound to do similarly but I never dared to check  

So what accounts for this trajectory in our (non-) education system? I am looking somewhere between the curricula and teaching methods; school hours and effective performance monitoring and appropriate resources of course and I am still smarting at the absence of MY early years experiences in schools.  

Who You Yapping At?

The linguist or okyeame is a very important person in Ghanaian culture. Communication between traditional authorities (usually the chief) and others is transmitted through the linguist whose responsibility it is to clarify the messages and render the back and forth utterances in language that is savoury, that can be understood by the common people and also in a manner that is culturally acceptable in order to maintain peace. Call them the real diplomats; the word linguist does not quite capture the role of the okyeame which is more a combination of lawyer, ambassador, mouthpiece, spokesperson, and speaker.

It goes to say that not every other person on the street can be an okyeame or linguist. Their symbol of authority is a staff which must be in hand before they perform their various tasks including pouring libation, delivering the chief’s judgement or welcoming visitors. In carrying out this important role, linguists have been known sometimes to colour messages to reflect their own mischievous ends like say adding a few choice insults here and there or trying to accrue some personal benefit to themselves in a negotiation. Nonetheless, linguists are powerful figures in our society for obvious reason.

A linguist with his staff

The influence of linguists is evident in contemporary society in a variety of ways. In the “state apparatus” the linguist has taken up the title “spokes person”. In our situation the Minister of Information would be the person not the spokespersons elsewhere whose utterances tend to elicit the opposite of peace almost all of the time. In the corporate world they are the PR or Corporate Affairs Officers. At the church, I am not sure what name they carry but I see them either repeat exactly what is said by the pastor or translate. For instance; when pastor goes, “na obree ne hu ase”; church linguist goes, “ose, na obree ne hu ase”. The on-going translates this way; pastor says, “... and he humbled himself” and church linguist goes, “he says, and he humbled himself”. I am sure you get the drift.

The real value of the linguist however is not simply in the dexterity with which their message is delivered. It is that they speak the language of the people. Speaking the language of the people means saying it as the people would appreciate, identify with. Secondly, their word is unadulterated, being transmitted straight from the authority that speaks.  Now hold this thought.

2 of the many important political rallies to be held before Ghana goes to the polls in December were held not too long ago. Screamer after screamer told their supporters either about their exceptional track record or the failings of their opponents. The people cheered when speakers mounted the podium and responded enthusiastically to slogans. The events were reported on the evening news; the teeming crowds cheering, singing and displaying paraphernalia. Successful rallies, by all accounts.

  

Elsewhere the chiefs gathered with all their subjects, dressed up in glamorous regalia to welcome the visitors with good news. All necessary protocols done, the real business begun- the talk. Only “developmental” projects bring the chiefs and peoples together with government officials like this so the substance of the talk was nothing new. The chiefs, aided by thick spectacles and with faces not more than 5 inches away from the text from which they read laboriously, thanked the officials and ask for more. Government officials followed similarly, reminding the people of the many good things done already and many more to come.

All these events come to me via TV thanks to news reporters and media houses. I watch the faces of the crowds and community members when the speeches, especially those that are read from scripts and palm-size tabs are being delivered and ask myself; who are these “high ups” talking to? Except in a few distinct cases the medium of communication is the English Language. True, I know that  the English language  is the official language but  is it not rather more like the language of officials? Ever wondered what the “official” language in your hometown is or indeed the “official” language of the woman that sells koko (porridge) on the street?

Now, unfreeze that thought ... slowly.

akuyaafriyie@gmail.com

Mobile Phones Rock!

My dressmaker is one person I can’t help but call every so often. When I do call, I hold my phone a few inches away from my ears as I am treated to her ring song (tone). Goes like this;

 “Small girl you don’t know de tin, I am teaching you de tin, you are playing with de tin...”

The line of the song would usually repeat itself twice before my lady picks up- a small price to pay if my dress comes out right. She insists she did not set the song as her ring tone but I so doubt that! I think she loves that ridiculous song!

The part where I have to be oppressed by her favoured song is what I don’t get. Thought the thing would be to record the song on her music device and play it repeatedly to her soul’s delight all day long.

I suffered similarly at the hands of a project partner when I walked into the office of a manager of a company with him to follow up on a request to undertake an exercise. It had taken quite some doing to get this interview and I was keen to present our best first impression. My partner’s phone rang just when we got settled in our seats in the official’s office and he had a “quick” chat, thankfully. I started our introduction again, smiling sheepishly. Just when I felt the official warming to our mission, my partner’s phone rings again. I wince in embarrassment and hope my partner will pick the call quickly and switch the phone off. That was not to be, like my dressmaker, he is not even in a hurry to pick the call until I turn and glare at him.  His ring tone is; “mobro o o hu fo agya ee...”   

Mobile phones do rock, but the days of “me gyina abonten na me kasa” are long gone. The expression; literally translated, “I am outdoors and speaking” was popularized in an ad in which a braggart called a friend on his mobile phone and excitedly announced his mobile phone status with the expression. It was quite a creative way of introducing the mobile phone to my country people and enticing us to acquire the device in the early days. We got the message.

Mobile phones arrived with all the trappings and possibilities. They also came with loads of challenges, one of which is their capacity and power to intrude and assault an individual’s space. A typical example is mobile phone service providers who relentlessly clog our phones with ads and “promotions” without so much as an invitation and with absolute abandonAs it were, this technological capability assumes and imposes on us the task of sifting through and rejecting the “trash” that comes with the benefits.

Regrettably though, we are not always in a position to reject or pick and choose our options; which leads me to think new technologies, along with the manuals for manipulating the devices, should have arrived with additional protocols to manage the implications for how we relate. Now that’s asking too much from technological innovators and off course I am kidding.   

What I really wish for is an appreciation of the collective responsibilities (inherent in my view) in the “power” that mobile phones bestow us.

Here are some mobile phone experiences that support the call for a manual of sorts;

o   The very fact that “ye gyina abonten na ye kasa” (communication not constrained by location) means that one can tell a lie with reckless abandon and get away with it, if one is so inclined. Arguably the most remarkable consequence of the mobile phone on our lives.

So I am speaking to a colleague, friend, somebody of no special appeal and this person unashamedly tells another on the other end of his/her phone that he/ she is doing anything other than what he/ she is engaged in at that time, which ordinarily would be speaking to me. Clearly it’s not enough that a straight faced lie must be delivered; it must be delivered with me as witness.

Well guess what, you may be leading a shady life, your life may be rotten, your partner may be a terror, you’ve stolen someone’s money, EOCO (the thief catcher) is after you ...  but could we not share those details of your life? Who do you think I am anyway? Your partner in crime? C’mon!

o   The world is a “global village”. So they say but there’s such a thing as time zones. However the call that comes through at 2am (my time) with the sole objective of “I just called to say hi” does not seem to appreciate the difference between a yawn and a chirpy hello.  The unchangeable truth though is, I am no bat, never will be.

o   No doubt mobile phones can be great company and fun too. We know that before we decide to go out, spend time with someone or some people. So why do we end up talking on our phones or fiddling with them half of the time, when we have human company? Tongue-tied perhaps? 

o   The gardener is still at work when I am leaving home so I call to him to give him his day’s earnings. As he walks towards me, his phone rings. The gardener gestures a “wait” to me and carries on ... and carries on. Well, I drive off leaving him staring at the dust! He later comes to “explain” that he was attending a “foreign” call.

My friend on the other hand, does the good deed of offering a woman a lift. As soon as the woman is comfortably settled in the car she starts a conversation on her mobile phone –yapity, yapity, yapity. 
My friend stops the car after a few minutes of this verbal assault and asks the woman to kindly step out and get on with her conversation.

So what should one do when in a conversation with someone on a date, in a meeting, while visiting ... and a call comes through? Excuse yourself and take the call if it’s important? Take the call but let the person know you’ll return the call later? Take the call and carry on for as long as it takes? Take the call and make the necessary apologetic noises later?... Don’t ask me! Take a wild guess. 

o   The phone is ringing and it’s within reach. Actually he has it in his hands and is staring at it but he lets it ring until it’s almost out of breadth before answering with a slow drawl.  I am clueless because he is sitting across from me and we are in the middle of a discussion – official I must add.   If only the phone was not that loud and if only it wasn’t that song and if only he said something... perhaps I would understand?

o   When my phone rings, I take it someone wants to reach me. I also presume that the call has been possible because my phone number has been available to the caller. That’s why chances are that when my phone rings and the caller’s identity or number is purposely hidden I am likely to ignore the call. It’s a booby trap and I smell it!

A few times some courageous person has had the nerve to ask why “their” call went unanswered. Say what? 

o   When a mobile phone rings during a meeting, I am always taken by surprise. I can’t shake the reaction. I mean, a meeting is scheduled, this person walks into the meeting with mobile phone active, the phone rings and this person takes a minute to get to it (it’s in the pocket, under some papers, in a bag ...), then this person proceeds not only to receive the call but to have the conversation while still sitting in the meeting.  

o   I notice that people generally don’t want to disturb others so they keep their phone earpieces in place ... all the time, even in meetings. Works well in a climate where people generally like to repeat themselves more than once.

.... and it goes on and on and on. Dare I say then that the common themes are Respect, sensitivity, and just plain courtesy?

akuyaafriyie@gmail.com 

Uncommon Business Sense

“The customer rules”; “the customer is always right”; “your wish is our command”; “you are the reason we exist”; “we value our customers”-- really powerful statements that should make any potential client or customer of a business feel like royalty, illusionary though it might be.  

That people in business are out to make money is common knowledge. The essential thing is business people know where the money they seek will come from – from the people who walk through their doors.  That’s what explains the hype about how far back businesses will bend to please their customers or more aptly, entice and encourage customers to joyfully part with their resources.   

                        

I am fascinated by the manner in which this rather “apparent” logic is played out in the world of business in my parts and tempted to think that a rare crop of business savvies are fast gaining ground about me. Nouvelle as their strategies may be the logic escapes me for now. Sneak a peek;

                                           

At the parking lot:

I need to transact business at the bank; errm no, I am not borrowing. Suppose I was anyway, it’s a product for which someone would be receiving abnormal interest, no? Anyways I get to the premises of the bank and drive round the parking area looking for a place to park.

I see the sign “reserved” marked on the only 2 free parking slots at the parking lot.  I figure I am a client of the business and there should be no hassle parking in the space so I reverse and prepare to settle my car comfortably in one of the spaces. Just when I am about to slide into the space, here comes a man in khaki trousers and blue shirt with a badge reading “security”. “Madam you can’t park here” he says.

Apparently, the slots are reserved for the Managing Director and deputy!  When I explain that my business is to do “business” and not sight-see, security just shrugs and in quite a matter of fact way tells me it really does not make a difference. The next time I visit the bank, not only have the reserved slots increased, some wooden stands have been placed in the reserved parking slots, presumably to deter “difficult” clients like me who would insist on parking in the reserved space.

This reserved parking for the high ups in business is in operation in several places. In most public institutions the slots are not only reserved but labelled (Operations Manager etc....); at private businesses such as the sports club or restaurant the reserved spaces are for owners, their spouses and other family/ business partners. Trouble is, there is no reserved parking for customers.

At the Shop at Lunch Time:

I figured since most buyers are working my kind of hours or working specific hours that impose different rest periods, shops on week days would ensure that they operate hours that do not cut off potential buyers. After all, they exist because of the potential buyers right? Armed with this knowledge, I proceed to do the 20 minute journey to the well known shop in town during my lunch hour to buy some fabric.  I get there just about 1pm only to find the shop closed. A sign on the glass door informs me that the shop is closed for the lunch break and will re-open at 2pm. About five other potential buyers probably with the same expectations of weekday shopping for workers like us are also waiting behind the doors.

I peer in through the glass doors and I see at least six individuals chatting and looking at their potential customers from inside their cooler. One of the younger lads actually has the good sense to point me to his watch and then direct my eyes to the notice on the glass door as if to say, “read the notice, it’s not 2pm yet”. True enough but I wasn’t hanging around for the clock to ding-dong that number!

At the Eatery:  

Who is taking the orders? That’s a good question when you choose the average local spot for a meal. On a good day, someone welcomes you, shows you to a table and tells you “please am coming”. After five minutes the same person or someone else comes to clear and clean the table and asks what you care to drink. 5 minutes after this someone else brings the drinks and will turn to walk away unless you ask if they’ll take your food order. Um ... usually not but this person will promise that someone else will be coming your way soon. On the other hand if this person acts nice and decides to take your order, you would wish they didn’t because 20 minutes after that, you would likely be seen frantically looking for the waiter and waving to attract the attention of another waiter, any waiter.  Eventually, the waiter will return to let you know that he or she is “alone that’s why”; this means you need to understand that the long absences are inevitable.

The owner-supervisor type lurking around the counter or sitting at one of the tables is in the meantime playing with a phone or busy looking the part of the business owner. Usually dressed up in “business” clothing, it’s obviously not their place to serve.

So finally your food order is placed, and you sink into your seat already relishing the next more pleasant activity. 15 to 30 minutes into the wait, you spot your food waiter approaching but with nothing in hand. “Please they say (whatever you ordered) is finished” or “the chef says there is no (some ingredient)”. The last time I got that rap, it was no bananas for my smoothie at a smoothies place! This will undoubtedly make you sit upright and trust me, this is the time to forget the meal and bolt because “special” service is yet to peak!

The special services group of companies have one thing in common that I have noticed - they are locally owned or run. I would have loved not to mention this but I felt that would be unfair seeing as they are strenuously singling themselves out from among all the ordinary others who have as yet to upgrade.

Could there be something about us that predisposes our businesses to such extraordinary feats or this is possible because we expect and accommodate pedestrian practices? I wonder.