COMMENTARY | How high school pushed us to breaking point

A reader who matriculated four years ago has written a letter about the “toxic standards” of secondary education‚ particularly at former Model C high schools in South Africa.

It is addressed to her former high school. “I thought it might resonate with many of your readers‚” she said.

In it‚ the reader‚ whose identity is known to TimesLive‚ describes how school is designed to push students to reach‚ perhaps‚ their full potential‚ but also their breaking point.

Read it and share your thoughts with TimesLive on Facebook. Do you agree?

To My High School

I was going to begin this letter “to whom it may concern” but I realised that would disprove the point of my letter as a whole‚ because you are currently not concerned. As much as you may think you are‚ you are completely unconcerned about whatever trials or tortures are tormenting your teenagers.

You may not realise that you are in an incredibly lucky position. You are dealing with girls going through a period of their lives which is morphing them from gawky tweens with newly-tightened braces and ill-fitting skirts to almost fully-grown adults‚ still with ill-fitting skirts but this time they’re about three sizes too small.

When I left high school I was an exhausted‚ dispassionate‚ unnoticeable shell of a human being. I believed I was useless and ugly and had no right to be a part of the privileged environment in which I grew up. I felt like I had had all the excitement and anger and strength of young-adulthood beaten out of me by the pressure and competition surrounding every avenue of my school career. I also thought I was the only one who felt this way and so surely what I had to say was selfish‚ overindulged‚ ungrateful‚ and shallow.

I spent my gap year living with family friends in America. By day‚ I volunteered at a farmers market and tutored kids who hated school almost as much as I did‚ and by night‚ I wrote poems and diary entries about being sad and posted them on the internet where I am pleased to say they have not accumulated many views. I also spent some months in England‚ again with family friends‚ some of whom confirmed my self-loathing and reminded me what it was like to be in high school again. By the time I got home‚ I had managed to separate my ideas of “school” and “academia” and therefore was ready to attend university‚ as I had been accepted for a degree which would hopefully teach me how to criticise‚ argue‚ expand my thinking‚ and fight back against the things in this world that angered me most.

It turns out that the thing that angers me most is the structure of the schooling system. I’ve realised that school was designed to push students to reach‚ perhaps‚ their full potential‚ but also their breaking point. One needs to get points for head-girlship by involving themselves as fully and ferociously as possible. (You need to be head girl because you need to be at the top; if you’re not at the top you’re at the bottom – there’s no middle). You need to join choir‚ play sport (summer and winter)‚ be a library monitor‚ join societies‚ lead societies‚ organise fundraisers‚ be published in the school magazine‚ and that’s on top of the base requirement of being present every day and excelling in the classroom. Oh‚ and if your body shape wouldn’t allow you onto the cover of Teen Vogue‚ you’re going to consistently feel like you don’t belong‚ so just add that to your list of everyday pressures and you should have almost all your bases covered. “But come on ladies‚ let’s love ourselves!”

We had no idea how to healthily talk about what was on our minds‚ how to enter into a world of sex‚ and drugs‚ and alcohol‚ or how to create and sustain healthy relationships. There was even an ideal lesson to discuss all these things‚ Life Orientation‚ but instead we watched a completely revolting pro-life propaganda film about women getting abortions. Nice. We were an all-girls school. And you think none of the girls watching that film had had an abortion. Especially after the disrespectful mutterings about the girl a few years above us who had become pregnant and left the school. Pull yourselves together.

Luckily you provided us with a school counsellor. A school counsellor who would talk about the issues of other girls while I sat in her stuffy office‚ thinking constantly about how she was going to tell others about mine. A counsellor who suggested we should not have a grade discussion about eating disorders while at least five of us were suffering from them because she “didn’t want to put ideas into our heads”. The ideas were there already. That seed had been planted and watered for years‚ and it has just been blossoming in the fertile environment of the institution of secondary education.

My one saving grace was the group of oddballs who I befriended and continue to be friends with to this day. We connected because we didn’t fully fit into any of the other groups and therefore fell together by default. These oddballs are now taking control of their lives in acts of bravery of which I could not be more proud. Acts like pursuing a career in the arts and daring to love themselves when their whole lives they have been told they should not. In many of our hours spent together solving the problems of the world‚ we have become more and more confident in one thing: high school did not teach us the values we have had to teach ourselves in order to excel‚ to gain confidence‚ to have the courage to want things to change.

And I am pretty confident that there were girls who wanted this change during their high school existence. They asked for discussions around identity and a concerted effort to become aware of ourselves and others. They stood up in assembly and petitioned to the staff to talk about these complications in humanity and what mind-sets we need to employ to deal with them. Some staff cared‚ but not enough of them. I can distinctly remember teachers rolling their eyes at these suggestions and muttering sentiments along the lines of: “I’m just here to get the girls to pass.”

Well thank goodness for that because we did pass‚ and we still made it onto the list of top schools in the Western Cape‚ due to our matric results‚ and‚ luckily‚ little certificates of bachelor passes are being churned out by the dozen so that your school name is not dragged through the mud. Thank goodness. The amount of panic attacks‚ purges‚ binges‚ vices‚ and depressive episodes are not recorded on certificates or in newspapers for the world to see so they don’t really matter. They are not the top priority.

When I unlearned the disease in my brain which was telling me that I would never be smart enough‚ pretty enough‚ involved enough‚ loved enough‚ celebrated enough‚ or successful enough‚ I learned that I could be enough. I don’t know what is going to become of this letter or what you will do if you ever get your hands on it‚ but I have a large hunch that absolutely none of this will stir an emotional response strong enough to make a change. There is not one part of me that believes this hunch could be wrong. 

Kind regards‚ 
Another brick in the wall