You might have thought that I had asked the School Committee to allow me to put on the nude stage performance of the musical Hair, so completely stunned were they by the request to allow me to enroll girl students in my Woodworking and Technical Drawing classes.

I had first asked the Headmaster one afternoon after classes. I had been teaching at Elulakeni High School for two semesters and the new school year was beginning next semester. I have always been egalitarian, and to me, the idea was a good one. Girls should have the same opportunities as the boys.

In my school, students were placed in one of two courses of study. Most students were enrolled in “college prep” classes, which had both boys and girls, or they were placed in Technical subjects, in which the boys took Woodworking and Technical Drawing, and the girls took Home Economics. Which seemed kind of sexist to me. Their placement was arrived at when they moved from Primary School into the High School, and it seemed to be a random assignment sort of based on grades in the Primary School, by the teachers whose responsibility it was to shuffle all the new kids into the available classroom space in the High School. They felt that Technical subjects were for the “dumb kids”, which mostly meant the behavior problems. My classes were full of the behavior problem boys.

Having grown up as a behavior problem in my own schools in my youth, I was all too aware of the prejudice aimed at kids who were square pegs that wouldn’t fit into round holes. I wasn’t a dumb kid, I was just bored with classes, and my attention wandered when the classes weren’t providing enough information to keep my growing brain occupied. Ok, I was ADHD in the days before it was called that, and before Ritalin was invented. But even so, it was boring to sit there being lectured at in a one-size-fits-all education. I needed more enrichment than other kids. My dad was a Chemical Engineer, and an inventor, and my home life was full of enriching information. I was reading out loud to my parents as soon as I was able to read. School seemed like a step backwards, and by the 4th grade, I was losing interest in what school had to offer me. It continued throughout my school career, with the accompanying low grades and notes sent home, and trips to the Principal’s office. I almost didn’t graduate from High School because my grades were so awful.

In my first two semesters of teaching at Elulakeni, I had realized that to overcome the behavior issues of my students, I had to be on my toes. I did whatever was necessary to keep the attention of my students. It became my mantra… “whatever it takes”. And so far, I was doing ok. I had it easier than other teachers, because when I was teetering on the brink of losing the attention of the class, I could just say, “Ok, gang, lets get out our tools and our projects, and get to work on them for the rest of the class.” And kids who are working with their hands have no mental space for bad behavior. Plus, it was fun.

So, I walked into the Headmasters office with high hopes and a positive attitude.

Me: Good afternoon, Mr Mbingo. I would like to talk with you about opening up my woodworking classes to girls. And also about allowing boys, should they wish to, to enroll in Home Economics.

He gaped openly at me, his face showing his amazement at such a proposal.

Mr. Mbingo: I am not sure what you mean, Maseko.

Me: Sir, I think maybe some of the girls might benefit from having a choice like this. They should always have options, and currently, no one is telling them about other options.

Mr. Mbingo: I don’t know, Maseko. Girls should take Home Economics, and boys should take Woodworking. That is how we do it here.

Me: I am not asking for a paradigm change here, sir. I am just wanting to offer girls the option. They are old enough to begin to decide for themselves.

Mr. Mbingo: Maseko, I think this is not something that I can decide. You must take this to the School Committee, who guide our school, and let them decide if this is allowable.

Me: Ok, sir, I will follow your advice, and arrange for a meeting with the School Committee. Thank you for your sage advice.

Mr. Mbingo: Ok, Maseko, carry on. And good luck with the committee.

As it turned out, the head of the School Committee was the father of two of my woodworking students, and I had met him several times on my various wanderings through the local area. So, a couple days later when I ran into Mr. Tsikati at the local little store, as I chatted him up, I asked him for time at the next School Committee meeting to present my proposal. He agreed, I am sure, out of curiosity, and didn’t even ask what I wanted to talk about. I sort of knew I would have to be organized in my approach, if I was to have any chance of getting their permission. So, being a teacher, I went back to my house, and wrote a lesson plan for my upcoming meeting.

The day of the meeting came along, and I took my lesson plan to the school auditorium, kind of nervously, but determined to open their minds to such a strange idea. Like everything in Swaziland, meetings were governed by Roberts Rules of Order, and I had to sit through the old business part of the meeting, and eventually it got to the new business part of the meeting.

Mr. Tsikati: Ok, now we come to any new business. Is there any new business to be addressed?

I raised my hand, which startled the six men and one woman on the committee, who were already wondering why I was there. I was, after all, not actually a member of this august assemblage, and could only speak if they were willing to hear me. They stared at me for a moment, and Mr. Tsikati pointed at me.

Mr. Tsikati: I believe that Maseko has something to bring up for us to consider. Mr. Maseko?

Me: Hello members of the School Committee. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Maseko, and I am the Woodworking and Technical Drawing teacher.

This was somewhat disingenuous because everybody knew who I was. If not personally, they knew me as the American (white) teacher that had begun teaching two semesters ago. Word gets around when you don’t look or act like everybody else. I wasn’t too worried, I had good relations with my students, and figured that they spoke positively about my classes, if indeed they spoke of their classes at all.

Me: I come here today to ask your permission to open up my Woodworking classes to girls, and allow them to choose my classes, should they wish to, as an alternative to Home Economics. And the other side of the coin as well, to allow Home Economics classes to be open to any boys who would appreciate the option.

Bah-da-bum. Complete silence. The committee members were looking at each other as if I had just landed from Mars and was speaking in tongues. Swazis are pretty conservative, and new ideas were held in suspicion. Well, it was time to shit or get off the pot, so I girded up my loins, and stood up and walked to the front of the auditorium. I had everyone’s complete attention. It might have been because no teacher had ever petitioned the committee before. Or it might have been because the novelty of my pale skin had not completely worn off yet. Whatever reason it was, I had the attention of all of them, and that is when I am at my best. I love a captive audience.

I glanced at my lesson plans, and launched right into it. I spun a tale of my home country, and our beliefs that opportunities in America are for everybody, regardless of their gender. I assured them that I was not trying to contravene their cultural imperatives, but instead, only trying to offer the student more options, and an opportunity for the students to take a more active role in their own education.

It went over like a lead balloon. People were shaking their heads and looking at each other. What strange things this American teacher was saying!

I told them about the women that I knew in America who were lawyers, and accountants, and heads of corporations, and entrepreneurs, and Representatives of Government. I talked about how women were able to take these positions because they had learned how to make choices for their lives early in school, and it had led to them rising from the masses to pursue something outside of the norms of society. I pitched my belief that we, as a society, had benefited from having more women in positions of authority. It was an empassioned presentation. I tried to show how, that even if the girls did not grow up wanting to be woodworkers, at the very least, they would have a better idea of how to repair their houses as they wended their way through adulthood, and children and marriage. And they would have more confidence in using tools, should the opportunity present itself. I smiled a lot, and maintained a calm demeanor in spite of my passion for the idea.

Committee Member: Maseko, I don’t understand. Why would a girl choose to be in a boys class?

Me: It is not that a girl would choose to be in a boys class, sir. It is more of an idea to capture those girls who have no interest in Home Economics, and give them an alternative, thereby not losing them from what school has to offer, through bad grades and dropping out of classes. Education is important to all children, and we must do our best to give them what they need.

Another committee member: A girl does not need Woodworking class in order to grow up and marry and have babies. That is why girls take Home Economics. To prepare them for their life as a mother. And what boy would need to take Home Economics? He does not need to know how to cook and make clothes. That is why he will get married.

Me: While this is generally true, there are exceptions to the rule. Some girls may choose to put off getting married right away. Some boys will need to take care of their own lives until they may decide to get married. I am not married. I cook for myself, wash my own clothes, and keep my own house clean. My housemate, Mr. Khumalo, the agriculture teacher, is married but his wife lives on their homestead far away in the north, and he too has to take care of himself at school here. I am not asking to rob Home Economics classes of all their girls. But those who may see a different life for themselves should have different options. And having a wider base of options is good for everybody.

Again silence, as the committee chewed on my words. I have to give them credit. They were not rejecting my proposal out of hand, but they were thinking about the idea. They asked me to step outside while they discussed their decision. I was cooling my heels outside watching the school soccer team practice for about 20 minutes. I took that as a good sign. Mr. Tsikati stepped out with me for a minute.

Mr. Tsikati: Hey Maseko, you have shaken up the committee. They had never considered your idea before, and some were dead set against it. But after discussion, it was decided that you should talk with Mrs. Ngambule, the Home Economics teacher, and enlist her support. If she says ok, you may announce at morning assembly your idea to have girls think about taking woodworking.

Yay!

Me: Ok, thanks for allowing me to speak with the School Committee, Mr. Tsikati. I will go and speak with Mrs. Ngambule after school today.

Mrs. Ngambule was a strict teacher, and a conservative thinker, but I asked her to meet with me after school, to which she generously consented. We sat down in her classroom and I pitched my idea. I could see from the get go, that she had an idea of a couple girls that she would definitely like to have make a choice to not be in her classes. She could just unload them on to me. She was uneasy about the idea of boys in her classes, but we both agreed that it was unlikely any boys would make such a choice, as the social/cultural pressure would not allow it. I got her ok to pitch the idea at morning assembly the next day. 

But she extracted a concession from me. In return for her letting me do this thing, I would have to attend her Home Economics classes during my open periods for the rest of the semester, just to see what they were like, and to participate as a student. Ok, I was game. It surprised everyone in her classes including her, that I already knew how to sew and cook, and actually had things to contribute to the lessons. I taught the girls how to make a 2 layer cake in a frying pan, and made colored frosting for it from scratch, and showed them how to spread it on the cake. Then we ate it, and that was the girls favorite part. She even let me give a lecture on budgets and budget management, which I made up on the fly. It wasn’t hard, I had been doing that already for years. And I was a teacher. That is what we do. Mrs. Ngambule and I became good friends during those weeks.

So, when the teacher leading morning assembly the next day came to the point in the announcements that she asked if there was anything else, I stood up. Yes there was something else. And I put my ideas out for the general student population to consider. I encouraged the boys and girls to think about what I was presenting, and if they had any questions, they could come to me and talk about it.

Nobody came to talk to me at all during the last 3 weeks of the semester. In the last morning assembly before break between semesters, I again stood up and presented my thoughts to the students. There was some laughter, but nobody came to speak with me. I figured that it was moot, and that this was just one idea that was not ready to happen. I spent the 6 week “summer” break over Christmas between school years traveling in Mozambique with a couple of other Peace Corps volunteers, and had a fabulous time. I stopped thinking about having girls in Woodworking.

When I got back to school at the start of the new year, I was ready to leap back into classes. I really loved teaching, and had spent part of my time traveling writing the lesson plans for the coming year, and was excited about the things I had lined up to teach.

After the first morning assembly, I walked down to my woodworking classroom, a class of first year kids, and to my delight and amazement, there were five girls who wandered in with the boys. I was thrilled. As it turned out, the girls were among my most motivated students, and their presence in my class was nothing but positive. In fact, they became my top students, and the quality of their projects throughout the year far exceeded most of the boys. I kinda knew that would be the case. Girls look at life differently than boys. The girls were happy to get out of grumpy Mrs. Ngambules classes, and into a class that had a different and fun teacher. (See my story Lomkhuleko and the Fine Coffee Table.) It was a win-win situation for everybody involved.

I may not have saved the world in my time with the Peace Corps, but I opened some minds to a different way of thinking. The longest journey begins with the first step.