Education crisis: Our demoralised teachers are failing children who are eager to learn

30 Apr 2025

In a rural school, I found educators shrugging amid decay, disengagement and dysfunction.

My first week of teaching practice in a rural South African public school has been confronting in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. It offered a close-up view of the tensions and cracks in a public high school system that is, on paper, relatively well resourced.

Yet what I encountered was not a lack of resources alone, but something far more complex: a culture of disengagement, low expectations and what seems like a pervasive resignation. It made me reflect not only on my role as a teacher, but on the deeper systemic and attitudinal shifts that are urgently needed in South African education.

One of the first things that struck me was the general atmosphere of the school. The infrastructure is in a state of neglect. Classrooms and walls are covered in graffiti, the grounds are unkempt and there’s a palpable sense that the school has been allowed to deteriorate slowly.

It was also shocking to learn that this school receives substantially more funding than a nearby, far better maintained institution. This disparity left me questioning where and how that funding is being directed, or lost.

Beyond the physical environment, what truly disturbed me was the apparent erosion of professional responsibility and pedagogical standards. One experience in particular stands out.

I attended a Grade 8 class during the last period of the day. The teacher arrived, distributed a test, told the learners they had 10 minutes to complete it and said he’d be back shortly.

He did not return until after the final bell had rung. He had been physically present for about 15 minutes and absent for more than 30. I was stunned.

Minimal instruction

The next morning, I returned to the same class to see if they had managed to finish the test. Once again, the teacher arrived, handed out the same paper and gave minimal instruction. By the end of that second lesson, many students had completed only two questions. By the close of the week, a test designed to take a single period had still not been completed.

There was no sense of urgency, accountability or consequence — not from the teacher and not from the students either. It felt like a hollow performance of schooling, where time passed but learning stood still.

Another example came from a Grade 10 class. The teacher, who is meant to serve as one of my mentors, spent nearly the entire 45-minute period writing out the term’s heritage assignment word for word on the board. He had access to a photocopier. There were printing facilities. But rather than prepare or use the tools available, he chose to write the entire assignment by hand while students sat passively, copying.

That same teacher also sent a learner to another classroom to find out what page their work was on, because he didn’t know. The lack of preparation and intentionality was glaring, and it sent a clear message to the learners: this work doesn’t matter.

What troubles me most is how this seems normalised. There is a kind of quiet complicity among staff.

When I raised concerns about classroom supervision, I was met with shrugs or comments like: “Just leave. Let them break the class down, it doesn’t matter.” But it does matter. Legally, teachers are not permitted to leave students unsupervised, especially not minors. But the problem isn’t just legality, it’s culture.

If we treat time as disposable, students as unworthy of our effort and learning as optional, what are we teaching young people to expect from society or themselves? How do I reconcile what I have seen so far with the fact that these same teachers did not hesitate to blame the students for “not wanting to learn”?

Equally concerning were the social issues that surfaced within the first few days. On Thursday, an announcement was made that representatives from the Western Cape Department of Education would be visiting the school to provide infant development support sessions for the many pregnant girls enrolled.

The way this was communicated was routine, almost bureaucratic… but the reality it implied was deeply unsettling. The normalisation of teenage pregnancy at this scale is symptomatic of deeper structural challenges: poverty, inadequate access to sexual education and healthcare, and a lack of stable adult guidance.

These girls are navigating the demands of adolescence and motherhood simultaneously, often in a school system that is not equipped to support either. It made me wonder what their long-term prospects are and whether education, as it stands, is truly offering them a way forward or simply containing them for a time.

Yet, in all this dysfunction, there are glimmers of possibility. I introduced a simple classroom management system, tried a few gamified activities in class and experimented with interactive methods that encouraged participation. To my encouragement, students responded with eagerness and curiosity. They loved it. Their behaviour improved dramatically.

This small success quickly demonstrated that the problem isn’t the learners. Most are keen, clever and eager to interact. The failure lies in what they are being offered.

My reflections inevitably draw me back to my time teaching in Asia. Although no system is perfect, I saw consistent professionalism, preparedness and pride among educators there. Classrooms were structured, routines were predictable and students were generally treated as capable of meeting high expectations. The contrast with what I’m seeing now is stark.

Teaching under siege

In South Africa, teaching feels under siege. Educators appear exhausted, unsupported and, in many cases, disillusioned. And when that disillusionment is passed on to students, it becomes self-reinforcing.

These reflections also raise important questions about how South African education is situated within a rapidly accelerating, tech-centred, globalised world. Our learners and teachers are not only operating in local conditions, but also in relation to international standards, expectations and opportunities. This is especially visible in the growing number of South African educators who spend many of their economically productive years working abroad in better-resourced systems, before returning home.

Since emigration statistics often focus on permanent exits, few acknowledge this large, temporary but long-term export of skilled labour, particularly to countries in Asia.

Although no official statistics exist, the prevalence of South African teachers abroad speaks volumes about the push and pull factors driving this migration. It underscores the scale of what might be one of South Africa’s most significant silent exports: its educators.

It is not uncommon, whether in South Korea, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, China, Taiwan, Singapore or Hong Kong, to hear teachers from other countries remark along the lines of: “I’ve never met so many South Africans in my life.”

Teachers here are being outcompeted by systems offering higher wages, smaller class sizes, better infrastructure, meaningful professional development and a motivated workplace culture.

When South Africa becomes less attractive not only to learners, but to its own educators, the long-term consequences are profound. We are not just losing people; we are losing momentum, aspiration and trust in the profession itself.

The conclusion I’m reaching is that our educational crisis is not simply about poverty, infrastructure or policy. It is also about the collapse of intention. Somewhere along the way, the fire that animates good teaching, care, curiosity and commitment has flickered out in many classrooms.

Reigniting it is not just about resources; it is about reimagining the culture of schools, the dignity of the profession and the expectations we hold for young people.

This first week has left me with more questions than answers. But if there is one thing I am certain of, it is this: our learners are not the problem. They are the clearest evidence that something better is still possible, if we choose to show up for them. DM

This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R35.

Categories:

Tags:

DM is much better if you are signed in...

DM168

Minimal instruction

Teaching under siege