Stemming the tide in Indigenous education

Feb 01, 2015 AFC Column, Features / Columnists

By Nigel Hughes
I have been privileged enough, since my entry into politics, to have visited several indigenous

Nigel Hughes

communities in Regions 1, 2, and 9.
There has been a disturbing recurring trend in the quality of education provided to our indigenous brothers and sisters by the State which not only embarrasses us as a nation, but perhaps has exposed our subliminal acceptance of the fact that it is alright to afford our indigenous compatriots a different and lesser quality of education than the rest of the Republic.
The statistics of the results of the CSEC examinations for Region 9 for 2014 are quite chilling. The average pass rate was 28% for students who actually attended secondary school. No one in the Region apparently achieved a Grade 1 in Mathematics. Yes, not a single student in the entire region.
If the above figures are stunning, consider that less than fifty per cent of the children who take the National Grade Six Assessment in the Region actually qualify for secondary schools.
A fortnight ago I visited Akawini, an indigenous community on the Pomeroon River, not more than fifty miles from Charity. It is actually located in Region Two. There is no secondary school in Akawini. The students who sit the National Grade Six Assessment can in theory qualify for any of the top schools in the country or in Region Two.
Among the top schools in Region Two are Anna Regina Multilateral and the famous Abram Zuil Secondary. Both of these schools are located in the same region and are no more than seventy-five miles away.
Not a single student from Akawini Primary has qualified for either of the top schools in Region Two for in excess of fifteen years. Less than 30% of the students from Akawini Primary annually matriculate for Charity Secondary and the rest who sit Grade 6 exams and pass, attend Wakapow Secondary.
Of those from Akawini who attend Wakapow and Charity Secondary Schools, more than fifty per cent drop out before they reach the age of fourteen, for various reasons including poverty, expensive transportation, or lack of adequate accommodation in the area.
The dormitories which are provided have a House mistress who is tasked with managing over four hundred students. As one resident put it “dem girls is come back home with a bump”. In a word, most of early young teenagers in Akawini are at home and out of school in their community by 13, and remain there until they are old enough, i.e. 15 years old, when they take up low-level employment in the gold and forestry sectors.
Akawini has two relatively modern concrete structures where the current primary schools are located; it also boasts two additional modern concrete buildings which are vacant and unused. One of the buildings is a brand new school never occupied and the other, a relatively contemporary home for the non-existent teachers for the vacant school building.
Not unsurprisingly, they are both surrounded by overgrown bushes and weeds. Even the wood ants have found preferred accommodation in the building.
There is only one trained teacher in Akawini. There is no internet in the entire community. How is it possible that in the same region which produces outstanding students who sit 18 subjects at CSEC and secure 18 grade ones, that not a single child from Akawini can actually make it through the front door of the same school?
The same story is repeated in the deep south of Region 9. It must now be clear that the issue of educating all of our peoples lies not in providing new structures and using the benchmark of the twenty-eight years of a previous regime. The issue must be, how can we as a country, remotely accept what in effect amounts to a system of educational apartheid.
The prospects of the average child growing up in an indigenous community securing a moderate level secondary education must be less than 20%.
How do we change this?
For starters, leaving the development of education to the experts rather than subject to political competition. At the risk of being repetitive, education is too critical a component of equitable and sustained development to leave the policies and programmes subject to competing political interests.
The provision of an adequate supply of trained teachers to the indigenous community should be seen as a priority, given the nationally embarrassing figures above.
I am keenly aware that this is easier than it sounds, as several of the qualified teachers are reluctant to venture into remote communities to teach. The incentive regime for trained teachers who are prepared to take these assignments must be improved.
The provision of internet and computer labs to schools is required so as to ensure that every family holds the promise of greater educational benefits for the students.
There is an urgent need for the provision of transportation, in addition to adequate and appropriate housing facilities for children who must leave their communities for better educational opportunities.
Perhaps the time has come when our experts should explore the possibility of teaching primary level students in indigenous communities in their own language where possible.
Our national benchmarks for education must be prospective and not the contrary, as seems to be the case whenever one dares to challenge the present order of things. The apparent current emphasis on structures should perhaps be deprioritized in favour of the imparting of critical thinking methods and skills.
The disservice to the indigenous community in education must be elevated to a national crisis level. We are way too far behind in the region to further sacrifice our most precious commodity, the minds of young people, at the altar of politics or optics.