Corporal Punishment, Cell Phones and the Student-Centered Classroom

As in most countries in the world, students and teachers in Tanzania are late to school every day. Here, however, tardiness is the surest way to receive a beating – if you are a student. Tardy teachers are rarely if ever reprimanded. This reminds me of American teachers who talk on their cell phones in class yet have no scruples about confiscating their students’ phones. Where’s the justice?

As a teacher who’s confiscated many a phone, and whose colleague once flung an old cell phone across the room so it shattered all over his dumbfounded students (who thought it belonged to a classmate) I’m not advocating for a free cell phone policy in our schools. I do, however, support equity in the application of certain rules for teachers and students. “Do as I say, not as I do,” has never worked for anyone I know.

Teachers, although underpaid and overworked, are respected role models in all human societies. Julius Nyerere, the “father” of Tanzania, is often referred to as Mwalimu (teacher) and his picture is still displayed prominently in every school and public building in this country.

I just read that some NYC schools are considering paying teachers $125,000 per year, and this I heartily applaud. Others are considering giving students financial incentives for good academic performance, and this I vehemently disagree with. In my opinion, the deepest learning comes when students are internally motivated. Motivation, like intelligence, manifests itself differently in every student, and it also changes over time.

Teachers, therefore, must be able to gauge the interests of their students and structure school-time accordingly. Administrators who have wrongly conceded to paying students who perform well are undermining the teaching profession and giving in to the material culture of America. It would be unthinkable for Tanzanian students to receive money for stellar academic performance. In fact, most Tanzanian teachers refuse to attend workshops unless they know they will get paid (this is a huge problem for NGOs trying to disseminate ideas here).

This brings me to the question of participatory learning, and ultimately, participatory living. American schools are some of the most creative in the world, and for all we do wrong, most teachers I know try their best to engage students and help them to take responsibility for their own learning. Our students rarely hesitate to question the teacher or speak their truth in the classroom, for they know the classroom is theirs.

Tanzanian students, on the other hand, rarely speak up in class. If they do, they may get beaten for giving a wrong or inappropriate answer. Tanzanian law mandates that no more than four strokes per offense be doled out to students, and only the headmaster is allowed to give beatings. Few if any schools actually adhere to this law, in fact, some have creative ways of getting around it. If a student is to be beaten, he or she will often receive two or three strokes from one teacher, then get passed on to several others.

The reason for this discipline is not just numbers. Sure, some may argue that hitting is the only way to maintain order in a class of 120. However, the passivity of so many students cannot solely be explained by fear of punishment; it lies in culture and the educational system itself, which still operates on 19th century assumptions. Add to this the appalling and inexcusable lack of resources, and you get crippled classrooms.

Anette astutely observed that the level of control exerted over students in school stands in stark contrast to the enormous responsibilities – and trust – that Tanzanian children are given every day. Where in America do you see a four-year old child shopping for the family needs at 9 o’clock at night? You don’t. We’re too paranoid and America is too dangerous - a cozy symbiotic relationship that keeps people in fear of each other and the world. In Tanzania, children are cared for by the entire community and there is very little violence on the streets.

Tanzanian children run their family’s shops, are used to hours upon hours of manual labor, and are respectful of their elders. By doing all of these things they earn the respect and trust of their communities, and are never “babied” the way so many American kids are. Why, then, don’t Tanzanian teachers entrust them with similar responsibility in the classroom? It’s a question that will take more time for us to figure out, so please stay tuned.