October serves as an important reminder of the transformative impact of teachers in society. This year is no exception. 

Some teachers trend on various social media platforms for their presumed bad fashion taste, yet something in us quickens at the slightest thought of a specific teacher in our lives. To some, teaching is just another career, but to others it is their oxygen. They spend their last penny to feed a famished learner. During the pandemic, they risked being incarcerated for violation of lockdown regulations to ensure no learner was left behind. 

For some of us who were fortunate enough to be on their side of the desk later in life, our respect for them grew even more at the realisation of the pain, despondency and humiliation they experienced at the hands of departmental officials. Nonetheless, they showed up daily without fail. The irony of teaching is that you teach in the classroom as much as you teach outside of it. 

Perhaps my own schooling experience could illustrate this point. Despite attending a high school that could easily win a gold medal at the Olympics of dysfunctional schooling, I had model teachers who defied the status quo. In a school like that, there were teachers like Mme Mahlatsi, Mme Lebitsa, Mme Radebe and Mme Mohlabi, who hardly ever missed their classes – always punctual and on task. 

Unknowingly, these women inspired my pedagogical actions. Influenced by them, during my teaching days I always showed up on time for my classes and enforced discipline like they had.

In the lower grades, I was fortunate to be in Mr Popo’s English class. The man was a magician. In class, he would deconstruct a complex English passage, and you would swear English was your native language. Outside the classroom, you would find him reading a newspaper, pausing to reflect deeply on what he had just digested. In a country grappling with a serious early-grade reading crisis, Mr Popo was modelling an intellectual curiosity that has remained with me to this day. In case you were wondering how I developed a love for knowledge and wisdom, there you have it!

Consequently, I wanted every learner I taught to understand the value of investing in reading good books and newspapers. To cultivate this, I would buy books for some of the learners as gifts. At some point in my student teaching days, I donated books to a school, in addition to taking learners to a nearby library during break to read a book of their choice. I was doing this to ensure that what Mr Popo had gifted me was replicated in another generation.

Then there was also Mme Mohapi. “Mother”, as we affectionately called her, came to my rescue in my Grade 11 year. I needed to drop off my application at the University of the Free State, QwaQwa Campus, but I lacked the transport money. Without a second thought, she gifted me her hard-earned R20, a significant sum at the time, to ensure I had a chance of accessing higher learning. Because she had confidence in my academic abilities, she once rebuked me when she realised I was slacking in my academic work. Had she not done that, who knows where I would have been now. Because of this, if there was a learner who strayed, I remembered such gestures and called them to order.

The thing is that you cannot be a teacher and grow weary of nurturing learners. I have even carried this over to my current work as a lecturer. You see, by heeding the call, you have committed your life to it, long after your last thought has been chalked onto the board.

Such is the power of teachers that, in the more than 10 years I spent as a proud township secondary school accounting teacher, I never set out to be the most popular teacher among my learners or colleagues. Instead, I set out to serve my country in the best way I knew: by teaching. 

Dr Lehlohonolo Mofokeng