Education - A Shattered Hope

School children

January is a time of new beginnings. For the adults - new year resolutions, for the children - new schools, new teachers, new classrooms and new friends. But in Zimbabwe January brings the same old problem: where to find money for school fees, for uniforms, for books. The only difference is that it gets worse every year. In 2005, not less than $400,000 will be required for each child to begin the school year, to pay fees, levy, buy a pair of shoes, one dress or shirt and shorts, socks and jersey. But new books are needed too - at least $600,000 for a set if they are new, perhaps $300,000 if you are lucky to get them second-hand. That is for one child, in an urban primary school, but most parents have more. Imagine a working man or woman, who earns one million a month, or much less, trying to find the money to send 3 children to school. They simply can't. The first item abandoned is the books, so children's chance of success is prejudiced. Next they have to decide which of the three will have to drop out. Will it be the girl, who can perhaps marry a working man, or the oldest who at least has finished grade 7?

It wasn't always like this. Fifteen years ago the biggest problem was to find a place in a school close to your home. The schools were overflowing. Places had to be booked half way through the previous year, or even earlier. Fees still had to be found, but they were relatively low, books were available, often purchased by the school. Government allocations did not cover everything, but they covered far more than they do today. Levies charged were used to supplement - for sports, extra books or teachers, equipment, capital development. Classes were large and teachers underpaid, older buildings were deteriorating, but the system somehow functioned with its imperfections. Those who were not satisfied and who could afford to, sent their children to private schools runs by missions, churches, or the very expensive private trusts.

But already in 1990 there was a serious disjunction between education and the economy; the thousands of school leavers each year were having difficulty finding employment. Pressure built up to invest more in tertiary education so that they could occupy themselves in more advanced courses which might lead to better jobs. The lack of integrated national policies was leading towards major contradictions. Fifteen years later, those contradictions, combined with the destructiveness of the "land reform" and all that goes with it, has brought education to near breaking point.

Educational development was hailed as one of the great achievements of the Zimbabwean government of the 1980's. Within a few months of Independence in April 1980, the government had announced that all grade 7 pupils could proceed to Form 1, thus transforming an exclusive, selective system into one which was open for all. There followed a frenzy of building and development, especially of secondary schools, but also of teacher training facilities. Syllabuses were changed and developed and textbooks written, printed and distributed.

The subsequent progress was not without its conflicts, as politics took the forefront. In the interests of socialist equality, the despised but in fact highly practical F2 vocational secondary schools were dismantled. Everyone must follow an academic curriculum and write O level in four years. Added to that was the programme of "Education for Production", widely misunderstood and variously interpreted in different schools and colleges, but universally resented by teachers, pupils, parents and administrators. Eventually it died a natural death. What a pity; in a different context it could have been a positive and practical programme which would have contributed to productive activity.

The greatest achievement was in quantitative expansion, as enrolments doubled and redoubled, especially in secondary education. Predictably, standards dropped through the 80's, as class sizes doubled, and pupils who failed O levels became "temporary" teachers in rural "upper tops" - primary school classrooms used temporarily to accommodate Form 1 and 2 classes while their schools were built. Pupils walked up to ten kilometres to learn from unqualified youth and returned home exhausted at night. In urban schools, shifts were used to multiply the numbers. Yet all were presented with an academic curriculum designed in other countries for less than half the population. Nevertheless, the small fee required for secondary school attendance was affordable, primary school pupils paid practically nothing, and parents were happy that their children were at last able to be educated and hope for a better future. Enrolments reached 86% of the primary school age population in 1990, and 90% in 2000. Secondary enrolment never attained the same percentages, but it more than quadrupled over the years. The effect on adult literacy rates was dramatic - by 1990 they were the highest in Africa, and by 2002 reached 90%. The youth literacy rate (age 13-24) hit 94% in 1990 and 98%in 2002.

What a resource had been created for the country's future!

But the development was uneven. It was not planned in relation to the growth of the economy. Commercial agriculture remained largely in the hands of white farmers, using manual labour. It could not absorb much more educated labour without a major reorganisation, which did not come, and there were cases of farmers resisting the establishment of secondary schools for the children of their workers. In the communal areas as well, those adolescents removed from their traditional role in the family fields to linger in the classroom do not expect to return to the arduous and often unrewarding tasks of ploughing, cultivating and harvesting. They join the trek to the towns where they look for "real" jobs. Rural educational development swelled the long-established urban migration to a flood and depleted the rural areas of essential labour. The addition of agriculture to an otherwise academic rural curriculum did nothing to alleviate the problem. The notion of an "educated" person who had gone to secondary school finding a future "at home" was simply laughable. In the thinking of most rural people, the whole purpose of being educated was to leave the village.

The failure to dovetail educational development with economic development only began to have serious consequences after a decade of Independence. There was such a long way to catch up, and the economy was growing, still enjoying the "Independence dividend" right through the 1980's. The contradictions remained simmering under the surface. But when the economy began shrinking after 1990 under the influence of ESAP, steam began escaping from the pot. Government spending was not matching its income. An ESAP programme dictated that this must be corrected. The high expenditures on social services, primarily education and health, must cease, and the costs of these must be recovered from the beneficiaries.

School fees were reintroduced on a higher scale. The School Development Associations, which had replaced Parent-Teacher Associations were now expected to take a major role in "developing" the schools. For this purpose they could levy the parents for payments approved by the Ministry. Gradually "development" changed from simply meaning expansion of buildings, to cover repairs, textbooks, all science and sports equipment, security, grounds maintenance and finally even electricity and water bills. Government continued to charge a "tuition fee" and to provide a per capita grant to each school, which was meant to pay for school administration and general operating costs, but by 2000, it was the SDA-administered levies which were sustaining the schools. Obviously this type of arrangement produced enormous discrepancies between schools in high-income and low-income areas. The former could afford to vote for high levies which would provide all the amenities a school could want, while the latter could afford the bare minimum. The wealthier schools could also afford to pay professional book keepers and keep track of the expenditure, while the poorer schools, with fewer well-educated parents, experienced high levels of fraud and corruption in the administration of SDA funds.

For those who were losing their jobs under the onslaught of ESAP and those who never had jobs, a Social Dimensions Fund was established which would pay fees. Others depended on various charitable initiatives. But by the end of the 90's, the government was no longer allocating adequate amounts to the Social Dimensions Fund, and larger numbers of children simply dropped out, especially from secondary education which was far more expensive. The BEAM programme which replaced it catered for only a few of the needy.

The lack of allocations for education was affecting teachers as well. Teaching was not a profession of choice for many. Even from the early 80's it had been seen as a stepping stone to something better for those who could not qualify to attend university. The fact that most teachers would have to work in rural areas without modern amenities made it unattractive for most ambitious youth, and the deteriorating salaries in comparison to other professions put the seal on the matter.

A mood of despondency gripped the whole education sector. Many teachers only remained because they had no other opportunities; pupils could not expect to do well with little equipment, and for most, their years in school did not lead to jobs. Hundreds of thousands of school leavers were unemployed by the early 90's. Government did not look for an economic solution, as they were already committed to ESAP. The best they could attempt was the expansion of tertiary education. Thus, instead of putting money into job-creation, they put up new universities and colleges, to absorb the thousands who could not find jobs. Fees were again low, heavily subsidised. While an attempt was made to integrate some of the courses with economic requirements, especially at NUST, at Midlands State University and the Hotel School at the Bulawayo Polytech, the sad thing was that the economy was no longer developing to absorb them.

The best most could do was to get jobs teaching - engineers teaching maths in secondary schools, for example.

For a while it seemed as if Zimbabwe was only a nation of teachers and learners. The products of the new institutions immediately became lecturers in the next new institution. But this could not continue for long. The exodus began, and the new ambition of youthful graduates was to get enough qualifications to leave Zimbabwe for a place where they could get well paid. Just as secondary schools in rural areas became funnels channelling young people to the towns, tertiary institutions became avenues leading out of the country. The amounts of money being poured into tertiary institutions became a drain on the economy, because the graduates could not find productive employment. Zimbabwean institutions became training grounds for foreign economies.

The situation in education was already bad by 2000 when Zimbabwe plunged over the edge. Since then, along with everything else in the country, it has become catastrophic. Government policies which have destroyed the economy have impacted heavily on education. All efforts to balance inputs and outputs have been sacrificed for political expediency and for the perceived need to retain ZANU PF in power.

The current crisis in education is manifested in a variety of ways; these include contraction of enrolment, especially at primary level, but also at secondary, under-funding, declining standards and politicisation of education. Government doesn't seem to have any policy at all about how education relates to the economy or develops the potential of individuals. It is just a matter, as with everything else, of keeping systems running in any manner possible, as long as ZANU PF can stay in government. In this context, education has assumed another important role - another channel for control of the population.

Much of the loss of enrolment has occurred from the former farm schools. They may not have been as good as they should have been, but at least they existed, providing a basic primary education for children on commercial farms. When white farmers were driven off the farms, these schools went with them. The drop in enrolment from over 90% of primary school age children in 2000 to 65% today is in large part attributable to the dispersal of the farm worker communities and the demise of their schools. Those who remain on the farms are generally not paid workers and most of the schools are no longer functioning. Those who have moved elsewhere generally cannot afford even the primary school fees. The rest of the drop comes from families who cannot raise school fees and in any case have lost hope that schooling will benefit their children. Why struggle to pay for secondary education when it does not lead to employment?

Under-funding has several causes. The first is government's lack of funds as a result of the mismanagement and subsequent collapse of the economy. Second is the poor prioritisation of budget allocations, also caused by inappropriate policies. Money goes to heavy subsidisation of corrupt loss-making parastatals, to fuel procurement, to subsidise agricultural produce. It is being thrown at "new farmers" who produce little and rarely repay the loans, and being stolen by a predatory governing elite. And it is being spent on "state" security which is in reality the retention of power by ZANU PF. There is a clear lack of commitment to maintain standards in education, as all attention is focussed on the "third chimurenga". Government has now indicated that it will fund virtually nothing except teachers' salaries, which are also far too low. True, that is the single largest item of recurrent expenditure on education, but there is much, much more, and parents have to provide the difference - parents who are already so hard pressed that they live in despair and desperation. Education takes up an ever higher proportion of their income, at a time when real incomes are falling rapidly. Parents simply are incapable of doing it. The consequence is low morale amongst teachers and pupils, crumbling buildings, few text books, crowded classrooms, an absence of any other equipment, and much higher levels of school dropouts, in both rural and urban areas. Even a substantial increase in teachers' salaries will do little to improve the situation. With the lowest paid teacher earning only half as much as the lowest paid soldier, it is clear where government priorities lie.

The politicization of education is not new. We saw how socialist ideology affected the curriculum in the 1980's. But with ZANU PF's popularity in question since 2000, every government institution has been swept into the campaign to protect their hold on power. Teachers in rural areas have been targeted and chased from their schools, accused of being opposition supporters. Too frequently they have been replaced by unqualified graduates of Border Gezi militia camps. Entry into teacher training colleges is reserved for those who have been through the same training and can be deemed "loyal". Administrators who refused to be drawn into open support of ZANU PF have been forced to resign, while spies and informers are placed in schools to report on any anti-ZANU PF sentiments. History has been made a required secondary school subject, and its content distorted to glorify ZANU PF and its liberation war. A modern society needs young people who have learned to question and be creative, not those whose minds are dulled by being refused the privilege of thinking. It needs an enlightened concern for the individual child's needs, not the militia idea of harsh discipline verging on brutality.

And finally, having failed to allocate sufficient funds to education, government prevents others from filling the gap. It has refused to allow those who have the means, to raise levies to a level adequate to the proper running of a school. SDA's are expected to raise money to run the schools, and inflation still close to 200% and rising again, it is inevitable that levies must go up. But government prevented this last year, and is doing so again.

Government knows that parents are struggling to pay the levies raised; instead of raising budget allocations, they hope to gain political capital by preventing SDA's, and in private schools, the boards, from raising fees beyond a given level, while insisting that they provide the same service they have always done. This is the same "we can make water run uphill" attitude that they have shown towards economic imperatives. An urban primary school which calculated it required a levy of $200,000 per term per child to cover all essential costs, is told that it cannot peg it higher than $60,000. Yet $60,000 will not be enough to run the school. Already, water is restricted to flushing the toilets, while washing of hands is not allowed, and the taps are dry. What kind of hygiene education is this? How long can a school function on one third of the funds budgeted? How long before schools become health hazards, and cease to teach because there are no books, furniture, or exercise books to write in? Certainly, ZANU PF will blame the SDA's when schools collapse. But it will not be the fault of the school or the SDA. It is the fault of government who abrogate their responsibilities and sacrifice everything for popularity.

Instead of telling the people the truth - that it is unable or unwilling to provide affordable education, government blames the SDA's and the boards of the private schools for trying to maintain their schools. Private schools have even had to obtain a court order to stop government from using force to close them down. Up to now, the schools have managed to hold together. But after two years of holding back school fees for the sake of ZANU PF's popularity, we have a catastrophic situation: fees which parents still cannot afford, plus collapsing infrastructure, plus decreasing quality of education.

A similar situation prevails at the universities. We spent a lot of money putting up expensive buildings. The fees, which used to be heavily subsidised, were raised drastically two years ago, making university education beyond the reach of the vast majority. But still there is not enough money to attract qualified staff, essential equipment to teach technical courses is not available, and libraries are pathetically under-stocked. Students pursue courses and graduate, but the majority spend months before they secure employment, while many take the first opportunity to leave the country. It is testimony to the calibre of both staff and students that the universities function at all. And yet, unbelievably, government continues to promise people universities in places where there are no A level schools, and A level classrooms in schools where no one passes O level.

The funnel gets wider and more powerful as schools, colleges and universities are utilised by each participant for their own purposes: by politicians to get votes, by young people to get enough qualifications to escape from Zimbabwe, by teachers to gain a wrung on the employment ladder which may lead to something better, by political thugs as targets for their frustrations. No one seems to see education any more in terms of the visions of a decade ago - "preparing our future leaders", "instilling moral values", or even as a tool of social and economic development.

With the economy in freefall, government continues to make promises while delivering nothing. Our once vibrant system, in spite of some contradictions, promised much for the future; but it is in shambles. Fewer and fewer children are able to participate and of those who do, fewer are able to benefit from the low quality education now being offered. It is clear that it will take many years before the educational institutions can be turned into what they should be - well-resourced centres of learning which provide the moral and intellectual development for young people while supporting a growing economy.

Very little can be expected until the government changes and the economy returns to a growth pattern. Then a more realistic new policy can be devised which will link education with the needs of development. Until that happens, parents will still struggle to keep their children in schools, but most are having to accept the sad reality that education will not bring a better life for youth in Zimbabwe. It is more likely to lead only to an unproductive life on the streets, or for the lucky ones, escape to a happier life beyond Zimbabwe's borders.