Kalim goes to school

We’d been trying to find him a good school since we came back to Nigeria. We settled on the decision to seek a school with a Montessori system. When we finally found one, they didn’t allow us to enroll him in the middle of a session and told us to wait until the beginning of […]

We’d been trying to find him a good school since we came back to Nigeria. We settled on the decision to seek a school with a Montessori system. When we finally found one, they didn’t allow us to enroll him in the middle of a session and told us to wait until the beginning of a new session, which is now.  So we were invited for an entrance examination.
The mother later reported that the examiner said he did well – in fact he answered questions above what was asked of him.  But there was a problem – he couldn’t write.
The mother agreed, explaining that we had never taught him how to write.  Mainly because the father believes that there are more important things for a child of his age to learn than writing – thinking for instance.
Yet, it was on the basis of his inability to write that he failed the test and his placement was decided to be at the lower rungs of the classes.  The fact that he tore through the other aspects of the test, did not matter terribly to the school.
When I was consulted, I advised that he be placed in an age appropriate class.  But I was, however slightly, disappointed in their Montessori system; my little knowledge of which tells me that at this level, emphasis isn’t placed on such things as writing.  
This also breaks one of the cardinal rules of Maria Montessori, who said: Never test a child until you’re reasonably certain he’s going to pass the test.
Indeed, when he was to start a Montessori school in Malaysia, the school asked us to bring him to the school for one week and see if it was a good fit.  This means we were the ones testing the school and not the school testing him for placement.  
But I do understand the reason why some Nigerian schools do what I call examination for those who should not be examined.  Many parents chase few places at good schools, so the schools are pushed to devise metrics to weed out those who do not ‘qualify’.
However, before then, while he was waiting for the beginning of the session to start the Montessori school, the mother took him to two Islamiyyas.  In one of them, he was whipped.  Kalim is the kind of boy who ‘should’ be whipped by our unthinking ignorant teachers.  I counseled the mother to consider removing him from that school immediately. But she informed me that the offending teacher teaches at both schools.  One cannot always have what he wants.  So I allowed the barbarism to continue.
But I was left broken hearted during the last Sallah when I had enough time with the boy.
He started behaving like a dishonest and an insincere person.  This behaviour is not only despicable in adults, but it is also completely unnatural in children.  For example if he wanted something, instead of shooting straight, like he used to, he would say: “Is the food delicious?  Do you like it Baba?” while smiling sheepishly.  This means he wants a share of the meal.  What’s wrong with “I want food”?
The Qur’an (33:70) says: “… and speak words straight to the point” and always trained children to do so; because if you do, “He will adjust your works for you and will forgive you your sins” (33:71).
As I observed him further, I realized that the guy had lost some confidence. Previously, Kalim could hold a sustained conversation with any stranger. But right now, he can’t even talk to his own father.
 But in what kind of world would we live if our children are afraid of us?  
It appears we’re already living in that world in Nigeria; a world which lacks creativity, innovation and invention, but laden with corruption – corruption of thoughts and deeds.  
Children should respect their parents not fear them.
A few days ago, I was delivering a workshop for the middle management of a public agency.  We were discussing the ideal situation approach to problem solving of systems thinking.  A point led us to discuss correcting children.  I told them children shouldn’t be beaten.  They told me, quite plainly, “this is an argument you can’t win!”
I didn’t differ on that point. I’ve “lost” that argument several times before.  However, I implored them not destroy our children’s future, the way our future was destroyed through beatings.

…and now this!
This is a letter from a reader.  I was eager to share the name of this great man, but he prefers to remain anonymous.  
“If you have fans, I consider myself as one, because I have over 300 of your columns that I detached from Weekly Trust. You’ve inspired me in no little way with whatever you choose to write about. It’s my fervent prayers that Allah grants you good health and rewards you abundantly (amen).
I’ve written this mail to seek your counsel on something very important. I’m an indigene of Lokoja in Kogi State and a graduate of the University of Abuja.  Although I am not employed, I’ve been able to save some money with which I intend to assist the Federal University Lokoja, due to the very impressive way the current management has piloted the affairs of the university. The only way we the indigenes can express our appreciation is by contributing our little quota.
I intend to donate a few computers to the school library with internet facilities so as to subscribe to well-equipped libraries around the world and give the students access to latest literatures and journals in their different fields of study. Can you help with the advice on how to achieve this?”
My response:  Yes I can and I will!