When the student became the teacher

The year 2020 was the year my students became my teacher.

The world as we know it changed last March when, in the middle of the first preliminary exams, President Cyril Ramaphosa announced a two-week lockdown and the closure of schools.

Our principal, Lorraine Srage, took the brave decision to continue with prelims. She understood that it’s preparation and revision for these internal examinations that gives our matrics the edge in the Independent Examinations Board final exams.

Therefore, in spite of the chaos erupting in every country of the world, in came our matriculants for the next few weeks to finish what they had started.

When I saw my class again in April, we had moved online. I took the huge white board (so generously provide by the school) into my pyjama lounge. This area of the house, which had always been used for TV watching, popcorn eating, and children relaxing, became the site of discussions about the Cold War, South African Defence Force troops in Angola, and Martin Luther King Junior’s bus boycotting exploits. It was also where we debated the violent resistance to apartheid in the turbulent 1980s South Africa.

Plunging head first into a new world of technology, I needed my pupils’ help to discover how to unmute myself; mute members of the group; share my screen; share my slides; and make myself the focus of the lesson. They also taught me to upload work, mark it, and download it.

I will forever be indebted to this group of 18-year-old boys and girls for making me much more tech-savvy.

This was a group of young men and women who had experienced their matric year ripped out from under their feet. Their matric dance was cancelled, all their sports fixtures were obliterated, their 18th birthday parties didn’t happen. The vibey matric year – for which King David Linksfield is famous – faded into oblivion. Yet they kept their spirits up, making sure that they had the best matric year they possibly could.

Even though we were behind screens, teaching was still teaching. We were still able to have vibrant debates about feminism (courtesy of Channing, Hannah, and Gina). We were still able to relate most of our topics somehow to sport (thanks Daniel and Ilan). We still had the boys who kept the lesson fun with humorous comments (Julian, Matan, and Josh, you know who you are). We also continued to have the undercurrent of teenage drama and angst running through everything (yes Deandra, Chiara, and Sarah, I’m looking at you).

I can say with certainty that the lessons were able to go “deeper” than ever before. Taking away the drama of the bells, the latecomers, the drawn-out breaks, and the sports meetings of everyday school life gave us more time for teaching.

Pupils were asking historical questions at a level I hadn’t seen in 20 years. I was consulting more research books, internet sites, and historical writings than ever before. I do believe that those who were able to concentrate during online school attained a level of knowledge and education that was absolutely unique.

Thank you to these 30 wonderful young adults who coped with more than their fair share of life’s challenges and who looked for the magic in small things. Whether it was dress-up Fridays on Zoom, having a cup of tea together on Teams, merging with the other classes for a last minute recap on the Battle of Cuito Cuanavale (yes I’ve become something of an expert after all your questions), this is what kept me sane!

I will always think of this class as my pillar of fire. Thank you for your guidance, energy, and light.

• Jocelyn Angel is a director at King David Linksfield and in her 17th year of teaching history at the school.