OpinionPREMIUM

EDITORIAL | How far does betrayal of trust by school staff extend?

550 words

Ulwazi high school principal Mihlali Makhalima
Ulwazi high school principal Mihlali Makhalima (FACEBOOK)

Parents and caregivers rightly expect teachers and school staff to uphold the highest standards of care and diligence when they entrust their children to them. Schooling is an essential part of a child’s upbringing, and a positive school experience can yield lifelong benefits.

This holds equally true for no-fee schools, which cater to pupils from poverty-stricken backgrounds and often provide not only an education but also essential daily meals.

It is therefore heartbreaking when this trust is betrayed, as appears to be the case at Ulwazi High School in Mdantsane, East London.

By most accounts, Ulwazi performs admirably academically — a welcome achievement for a no-fee school with fewer resources than its better-off counterparts. However, as reported in the Sunday Times last week, principal Mihlali Makhalima apparently blew more than R1m intended for school meals, allegedly misusing funds from the national school nutrition programme. This is an appalling breach of the trust placed in him and his staff.

A report by the provincial education department reveals that over the 16 months to April, nearly R250,000 was spent at upmarket restaurants, while a further R450,000 was withdrawn at ATMs and R226,000 at grocery store tills. These are substantial amounts — small fortunes in the context of a no-fee school.

Members of the school governing body appear to have been equally complicit, allegedly also receiving food, fuel and cash as “tokens of appreciation”, in violation of the rules. The use of debit cards at schools is prohibited, and beyond the unseemly indulgence, the alleged infractions contravene the Public Finance Management Act.

Also troubling was the school’s reported practice of holding disciplinary meetings at the local KFC, with one governing body member claiming teachers were entitled to eat if meetings lasted more than four hours. The temptation to unnecessarily prolong such meetings is obvious.

Amid the KFC feasting, the children were short-changed, receiving meals that fell short of the official meal plan — which in itself is hardly generous. Said one pupil: “We hardly ever get fruit. We get an apple only once in a while, not always. Sometimes a month passes without eating fruit. There are no bananas, oranges or anything like that. Sometimes we eat phuthu with amasi, and even then there is no fruit with it. There is no fish and pasta.”

The problem extends beyond Ulwazi. Earlier this year, the Sunday Times reported that pupils in Soweto were being fed apples the size of golf balls, bananas the size of a middle finger, and rice that remained hard after cooking. In July, calls were made to suspend the feeding programme in KwaZulu-Natal after claimsThat the tender process was rigged.

The education department has done the right thing by investigating the Ulwazi matter, and its report will presumably guide the necessary disciplinary steps. It’s regrettable this should have happened at a school that performs well, but the rules governing public funds are clear — and Ulwazi stands as an unfortunate example of how they can be abused when vigilance lapses.

Let’s hope that action against those responsible at Ulwazi is accompanied by a deeper look at how widespread this illegality and disregard for our children is. They are the future, and any move to deprive them of what is theirs — legally and constitutionally — is a matter of the highest public concern.


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