Valley of true visionary

If you feel despair about the state of education in South Africa, take the scenic drive north from Durban's spanking new airport to an old township called Ntuzuma. After a few tricky turns up and down these characteristically hilly areas you come to the gates of Bonisanani Primary. The high school in the valley below looks like it was burnt out; Bonisanani, by contrast, is surrounded on one side by beautiful patchworks of vegetable gardens grown by the community.

You know there is something different in this school when the rather buxom secretary welcomes you with a firm voice, "I am in charge here", then points to the principal, "and he knows it!" Chuckles all around.

Bonisanani has the same problems faced by any township school. The hole in the roof reveals the point of entry of the last burglary attempt. The few chairs in the staffroom are withered and torn. Its 90 "orphans and vulnerable children" represent about a fifth of the school's child population.

This school houses a migrant community established for those relocated from three different areas where the Inanda Dam was built. It is tough here, but not for the children - I witnessed the workings of the best primary school I have visited across our vast country.

The tall, handsome, well-dressed principal is in high demand. He was parachuted in a few years ago because of chronic problems at this school. Rumour has it the department is targeting him for another rescue operation. What is it that good principals actually do to turn around their schools?

Nkosinathi Ngubane starts, first of all, with a compelling vision: "We aim to offer quality education that will produce a disciplined South African who is creative, competent and critical in a secured and child-friendly environment." I know - you've seen some of this before. Except, this principal actually does quality education.

Second, he looks at familiar problems differently. No water in the school? No problem, he raises funds and installs two JoJo tanks. Too many burglaries? He organises "night camps" run by parents who catch the thugs - the problem is over. I must say it helps that your chairman of the governing body is a SAPS specialist in explosives, and I get the distinct impression that the thieves receive some warming-up exercises before being handed over to the police.

No parental support? Problem fixed with "door to door" orientation sessions for parents. Broken infrastructure? The principal hits the road and brings in funds from the private sector and government departments to build a sports field.

Third, Ngubane recognises that these poor children need a much broader curriculum. So he stuffs his pride in his pocket and approaches the Durban Music School to teach music to the young children. Violins, recorders and clarinets fill the school with music. Bishops, an affluent school in the Cape, is involved in hockey development.

"We copy what is good in other schools," the unassuming principal says in his PowerPoint presentation.

Through environmental studies, the children tend the gardens and learn hands-on science in the greenery around the school. Sports teams flourish and classrooms are fitted with brightly coloured science and geography materials. Poor children are fed. There is no defeatism here, waiting on government to provide, or holding back children because they are poor and hidden in the hills of Ntuzuma.

The children are sent to compete in maths Olympiads, language festivals and science and technology "expos", and they win awards. The student elections at this primary school are run by the IEC.

"You can have resources," the district officer says to us, "but unless you have a vision to drive the school, the resources mean nothing." When I read somewhere that a staggering R20 of every R100 of our tax rands goes to education, we certainly do not need more money. What we need are school leaders like Ngubane who could turn those resources into results.

"We have no pregnancies in our school," says the principal, "because we do virginity testing." I swallow hard, every progressive bone in my body aching.

The presentation ends with a stirring rendition of JS Bach's If Thou Be Near. As the notes of the brass quintet float down the hills of Ntuzuma, I mutter to myself: "Who the hell cares about virginity testing; they got everything else right."