After being away from school, I returned to Mwisho wa Lami to find things in a sorry state. As you will recall, Saphire had disappeared from school just a few days before the KJSEA and KPSEA assessments!
Luckily, these two assessments are not taken as seriously as we used to take the KCPE examinations. KCPE was a matter of life and death. We prepared for it as though our lives depended on it.
With KJSEA and KPSEA being called assessments, nobody seems to take them seriously. Teachers, pupils, parents; nobody seemed worried. Had we been preparing for KCPE and the acting headteacher disappeared, it would have been a national disaster. I imagined finding everyone in a panic.
“Have you ever heard of anyone failing KPSEA anywhere in this country?” asked Nyayo, Mwisho wa Lami’s jack of all trades and master of none. “Everybody passes. Even the dunderheads. As for KJSEA, they all pass, too.”
I tried to explain that these were assessments, not examinations, and that their purpose was not to fail pupils but to assess what they had learnt, but they failed.
I immediately switched gears and concentrated on preparing for the assessments, which had given the Heads of Institution (HOIs) a lot of work. Truth be told, the allowances HOIs receive are nowhere near commensurate with the work they do. They are grossly underpaid.
We finally finished the assessments on Friday, and I called a staff meeting. As you know, schools were closing for close to two months. As you know, Mwisho wa Lami teachers had not been in school for the whole of third term. I felt morally irresponsible allowing teachers to stay at home for another two months.
Mind you, they had already enjoyed the April and August holidays, which is two months. Add the 104 weekend days, and you have another 14 or 15 weeks at home – over three months. Add public holidays, sick offs, and everything else, and one begins to wonder whether teaching is a profession or a government-sponsored holiday programme.
Eight months away from school, with the government paying salaries for 12! I was appalled. I could not allow this to continue. If teachers had already spent so much time away from school, how could I, as Head of Institution, allow them another two months at home while the taxpayer continued paying their salaries?
Surely, TSC expected me to ensure that the government got value for its money. I was determined to deliver.
After the usual greetings, I cleared my throat and addressed the staff.
“As you are aware, during the third term, we were all away from school for some time ...”
“No, Dre, it is you who was away from school some days. In fact, most of the time, you were away!” interrupted Lena, her terribly done hair in tow. “As for me, I was in school throughout.”
“Dre. Sorry, HOI,” said Anita. “I was in school throughout the term, except for the few days when the staffroom and offices were closed. But I still came. I did not close the staffroom!”
“Colleagues, I think we need to distinguish between physical presence and administrative responsibility,” I said.
“Meaning that even when I am away, I am still working.”
I made a mental note to investigate how information about my whereabouts had leaked to the staff. In a school where nobody seemed to know where Saphire had disappeared to, it was astonishing how quickly my movements had become public knowledge.
“Colleagues,” I continued, raising my voice, “let us remain focused. My proposal is simple. During this long holiday, we shall have a structured programme. We shall report to school on selected days to prepare schemes of work, lesson plans, teaching materials and departmental reports. We shall also take general care of the school.”
Not the silence of agreement. It was the silence of people who had just heard their death sentence read aloud.
“Did I hear you right? You are saying that you want us to come to school during the December holidays?” “Are you out of your mind?” she asked when I answered in the affirmative.
“Colleagues, please!” I said, raising my hand. “Let us be reasonable. I am not asking you to report every day. I am merely proposing that we dedicate a few days to professional preparation. I have prepared a rota, which I will share today.”
“Relax and wait for the rota,” I retorted.
I had barely finished speaking when Mrs Atika reminded everyone that she had already applied for leave pending retirement in March the following year.
“I have told you people that I am not coming back in January,” she said firmly.
“We shall discuss that separately,” I said, trying to maintain control of the meeting.
Before I could respond, congratulations and retirement wishes resumed.
Clearly, Mrs Atika’s announcement was less about retirement and more about ensuring that nobody discussed my holiday programme.
Nzomo sent a message to the staff WhatsApp group announcing that she had safely arrived in Ukambani. “See you all in 2027, and Happy New Year in Advance!”
We were still in October, and Nzomo had already crossed into the next year!
By now, the meeting had transformed into a labour movement. The teachers were no longer discussing lesson plans.
They were discussing rights, dignity, family responsibilities and the Constitution.
“Colleagues,” I said, attempting to restore order, “We must change our culture.
“Then start by changing your own culture, Dre!” shouted Sella.
I announced that the new rota would be pinned on the school noticeboard on Sunday. Everyone was expected to check it and familiarise themselves with their reporting dates.
The teachers left in small groups, discussing the meeting in hushed tones. Judging by their faces, I suspected that.
I remained in the office, working and trying to figure out how I would keep every teacher productively occupied during the two-month holiday.
I must have been very busy because I missed a call from an unfamiliar number. When I called back, the caller introduced himself as the local Knut Secretary-General.
“I understand you are asking teachers to come to school during the December holidays,” he said.
“Dre, do not try that. And do not say I did not warn you.” He disconnected before I could respond.
Just before I left, the school watchman walked into my office. He was carrying a letter. It was from the local Knut office, summoning me to appear before them on Monday.
I proceeded to pin the new rota on the school noticeboard and typed a message on the staff WhatsApp group, directing everyone to check their reporting dates.
I will ignore Knut and his summons. They have not employed me; they do not pay my salary. I am answerable to TSC and TSC alone.
Just because other HOIs have allowed their teachers to rest for half a year does not mean I do the same.
