Jonathan Jansen: Practice makes perfect pupils

Jonathan Jansen: You do not want to find yourself in Springfontein in the winter. I suspect the founders of this rural town in the southern Free State called the place by this name because you literally "spring" (jump around) simply to keep warm.

Nor do you want to find yourself in a Springfontein primary school where, to my shock, I find small children inside thin-walled prefab buildings with asbestos roofs to kill you. Shivering, I slip into one of the classrooms. The children are all thin as sticks, a sure sign of the pounding poverty of the area.

One adult after another whispers the words "foetal alcohol syndrome" in reference to a malady that apparently afflicts many of these precious souls. In all my years of visiting schools in Southern Africa, this is the worst I have ever seen.

Worst, that is, until you enter the classroom of Mrs Le Roux. The teacher is not there, and so I am puzzled by the fact that every child among the 30 or so pupils is frantically busy writing; this is rare in most schools - an absent teacher is an invitation to party. Not here in Springfontein. There is nothing in this classroom except for some bright posters on the walls. But every desk has a small pot filled with sharpened pencils and writing books that are clearly overused, by South African standards.

I am intrigued by the bulging writing books, all neatly covered. And then the next shock. As I page through a sample of the books I notice that they are filled with neat children's handwriting on every page. Even more surprising was the fact that every writing page was marked by the teacher and, after five or so pages, there appeared an assessment score (8 out of 10, for example) with a bright smiling face and a personal word of encouragement in the teacher's pen. "This teacher does not sleep," I say to myself. It was hardly the middle of the school year and each writing book was already almost full.

Then the teacher bursts into the room. Her face lights up as she recognises her visitors and apologises for being out of class for a few minutes. I ask her how she managed to get children to do so much writing so early in the year. "Oh," she says, "that is their third writing book for the term."

No need to worry in this classroom about the damage wrought by outcomes-based education. This teacher has practised the foundation skills of writing every day to a point that the children so obviously enjoyed putting pen to paper to write, compose, imagine and communicate.

The cold, hunger and asbestos notwithstanding, these children have a huge advantage over most South African youth. As someone who has taught in at least three South African universities, I can honestly say that I see much more thoughtful and language-correct writing in this primary school than among many undergraduate students. It is called "practise, practise, practise". The lack of writing practice lies behind much of the rot in our education system.

Young children and older students struggle with communication and imagination because the practice of writing is not firmly established, in primary schools through to universities.

Students no longer write long and challenging essays; rather, we give them multiple-choice questionnaires to assess knowledge in a particular field. I understand that these are more efficient when teaching and managing large classes, but they come at a huge cost when overused at the expense of writing practice. It is also a nice cop-out for the lazy teacher who would rather not mark long essays.

I am thinking of proposing to my university senate that our admissions processes include the requirement that prospective students write a 10-page essay on an assigned topic so that we obtain a more complete picture of their ability to succeed in a tough academic environment. A student's writing tells you about organisational abilities, emotional capacity, literary insight, persuasive powers and, of course, communications skills. Writing reveals more than language competence.

Mrs Le Roux will not be joining the possible strike by thousands of teachers if their union does not get their way with more money. She recognises that keeping these desperately poor, thin and vulnerable children writing is the one shot they have to get out of their miserable circumstances.

Oh, by the way: the teacher is white and Afrikaans-speaking. The children are all black.