In his latest #SliceofGasant, columnist Gasant Abarder touches on the High School Open Days he’s been attending along with throngs of other hopefuls looking to get their kids into the schools of their choice. At one school, he was hit by an acute sense of angst related to the days he underachieved at high school.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here, exclusive to Cape {town} Etc.
When I started high school, I did just enough to earn myself an athletic kit by making the cut as a reserve for the 1 500m track event. I didn’t so much hope that, by some miracle, I’d be competing in the Inter-school athletics at the old Green Point Stadium. I just wanted to wear the athletic kit swag of my new high school.
Instead of training, I used the off-time from class to shoot the breeze. I was never going to compete anyway, right? Wrong! As my rotten luck would have it, one of the two 1 500m athletes was a no-show and I was now lining up at the start with a big knot in my tummy. The roast chicken my mom had packed in an ice-cream bakkie was hardly an ideal pre-race meal.
After completing the first lap I had a massive stitch in my side. I couldn’t continue and flopped to the side of the track. The medics ran over. And then I lost my pre-match meal all over the field – in front of the entire school.
It earned me a few nicknames I would never live down. But mostly, it would have a lasting effect on my psyche. Always the reserve, substitute, 12th man. The angst I felt every time I tried out for the school’s soccer or cricket team was overwhelming. So much so, that it made me choke like the Proteas used to.
So, over the last few weeks, high schools in the southern suburbs of Cape Town have been hosting Open Days. My Grade 7 daughter has to apply next week. Standing on the campuses of these fine schools caused me to feel that same knot in my tummy. My teenage angst was back with a vengeance and all I wanted to do was run. Not on a track. But far, far way.
If the angst wasn’t enough to make me lose my lunch, the fees at some of these public schools made me feel rather ill. But after considering the fees, I decided it wasn’t all that terrible. We’re prepared to shell out a huge chunk of our paycheques for a car instalment. Aren’t school fees far more worthy of that chunk of our salary?
But back to reliving my teenage high school angst. High schools are very different places now compared to when I was a teen, circa 1991 to 1995. Some of these campuses are pristine, the kids are so confident and they play electric guitars in music club. Gosh, back then, I might have still been picking my nose on the regular when I started high school.
The high school I attended, Salt River High, had one sports team per age group and per code. There wasn’t an embarrassment of riches as far as resources went. If memory serves, the school fees were R65 – a year! So, I had to be tougher with the books and I was. All thanks to incredible teachers who had big numbers in their classes but who taught with such passion and skill.
My daughter missed out on being a prefect and she was gutted. She has an incredible academic record and has conducted herself in an exemplary behaviour throughout primary school. She was told she was too soft for the job. I had to talk her through the disappointment and highlight the positives: not missing out on break time or being a snitch. These were cold comforts, though.
And when she stood on the high school campus of her choice dreaming of wearing that uniform, I was thinking I should manage this kid’s expectations so the prefect episode isn’t repeated. What if she didn’t get in?
At these open days are always those cool parents who have it all so together and who help create the niggling doubt. And the know-it-alls who have the full schedules of all the open days. They’ll tell you to apply to TEN schools because ‘you never know’. Then, I’m aware too that some schools employ a catchment area system which immediately excludes kids from the modest neighbourhoods from attending the so-called top public schools.
Also, there were at least 2 000 people at each open day for something like 100 places. That feeling of being the reserve was back!
An old high school friend and I compared notes. We thought about the chances of getting in and the fees. And then we came to the following conclusion: the choice is in and out of our hands. In our hands, as far as how our kids performed in Grade 7. Out of our hands because of the variables involved in how schools select.
My advice to fellow parents (apart from not eating roast chicken before attempting a 1 500m race) is: encourage your Grade 7 kid to do their best. That is all they can do. They’re already stressed out enough about getting into high school. Don’t push them.
And ultimately, does the school really matter all that much when the school that chooses you has a record for outstanding achievement for those who worked hard. I attended Salt River High and I loved every second of it. I turned out okay. I think. Given another chance, I wouldn’t do it any other way. I eventually – after losing my lunch – picked myself up and crossed the finish line.
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Daughter and dog are showing me all my days – and I love it!
Picture: Unsplash
