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This article first appeared in Forum, The Edge Malaysia Weekly, on October 12 - October 18, 2015.

 

A few weeks ago, I visited a school in a sleepy fishing village on the outskirts of Klang. I have to admit that the state of the school was shocking. I have visited underperforming schools in rural areas, but this school, for some reason, left an impression.

Everything about it felt forgotten and neglected — from the teachers and students to the school building and facilities. The irony was that there was a private school next door that seemed, at least with regard to its infrastructure, more cared for and well maintained.

Now, I’m not saying that just because a school’s building is in good condition that is an immediate correlation to a well-adjusted student body and an inspirational teaching staff. However, in the case of the school we visited, the first impression of the infrastructure was a direct indication of what we were to find behind its walls (or rather wire fences).

The first sign of the school is a tar basketball court that has partially collapsed and has not been used for months. We walked into the small unassuming entrance of the school and heard the familiar muffled sounds of noisy students in classrooms.

Our host showed us around and took us to the far end of the school building where the toilets are, and well before we reached them, we could smell the stench. Most of the toilets did not have proper sanitation systems and waste fell straight through to the ground below.

Once we signed the guestbooks and completed our mini-tour of the school, we entered our first lesson for the day — English. The teacher introduced us to the class who couldn’t care less if we were there or not, so, getting their attention and having them focus on lessons, as you can imagine, was somewhat of a challenge.

Since the students at this school are predominantly Chinese, the teacher explained to them in Mandarin that we were visitors and that we would be leading the class. So my friend (who thankfully speaks Mandarin) and I began with a simple ice-breaking activity — the students had to introduce themselves and describe themselves using a word beginning with the first letter of their first name, for example, my name is Tamanna and I am thin (not untrue).

Some tried the game while others were clearly uninterested. Unfortunately, this turned out to be not as simple as I initially envisioned, even for a class of 14-year-olds, which led us to change tack.

Our next game plan was to read with them in small groups, which proved to work better but was still not too successful. While some struggled with reading and others with comprehension, they seemed to genuinely want to learn the language but were so far behind at their age, barely able to phonetically sound out the easiest of four-letter words and their meanings.

It made me wonder what they had been learning in school all these years. Then, I decided to just have a conversation with my small group so that they could practise their spoken English. What I discovered was quite surprising — they all wanted to learn English and eventually leave their village because they felt it offered them no learning opportunities.

The infrastructure was appalling, and while the students gave the impression they didn’t want to learn, they actually craved opportunities that allowed them to experience the world beyond their small village.

Now, where were the teachers and principal? Well, before we left, we stopped by the teachers’ lounge and I was struck by how low the energy was in the room. At that moment, it occurred to me that all those in that particular room seemed devoid of passion and their body language reflected this as well.

Our host, who also happened to be a young teacher, hurriedly grabbed some books he had left in the room and led us to another office to explain how he had been trying to improve his students’ English. He had been conducting extra classes for them outside school hours using a module he had found online. But the support from the other teachers had been minimal, and sadly, he had to discontinue the classes even as he saw improvements in some of the students’ command of the language.

The surprises did not stop there — I was then told that actually, the principal had left the school, leaving it without leadership for close to three months. He had been trying to change the school for a decade and had given up, especially since the community continually blamed him for the state of the school.

I couldn’t help but wonder how the school has been allowed to function like this for years and it seemed at that point that it would continue to do so, unless someone takes ownership of the school because clearly the Ministry of Education has forgotten it.

So, who will take the responsibility for turning this school around — the community, a new principal or an education provider?

For me, it remains a mystery.


Tamanna Patel is senior researcher, education at the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs in Kuala Lumpur

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