ST JUDES TESTING - HEARTWARMING/BREAKING

In the last term of the year, we look for around 170 new students who will start in the lower classes the following year. In september we started looking for those students. The procedure for this goes like this:

Every Friday in September, October and November (sometimes even December) from 1.30pm (7.30pm Swahili time), potential students line up outside the gates acommpanied by a parent, sibling, neighbour - some come alone with no-one to wish them good luck or dry their tears, when the leave having been unsucessful.

Between 1500 and 3000 come to do the Friday testing every week - around 20,000 over the ten week period - to try to gain one of the 170 places. On average, around ten are successful every week.

After lining up, they are all brought into the school grounds and form two lines - one for Standard one and one for Standard two. There are few places in Standard two because it's easier to educate children when they're younger - they need to be very smart to get a place in Standard two. The first part of the test is reading - in English for St. 2 and Swahili for St. 1. I am one of the seven reading testers and encounter children who can't read at all, some who just recite numbers and others who read with surprising fluency. It's interesting to try to guess who will fall into which category, from a cursory glance. I'm rarely correct.

Those who pass (around 200 of the approx 2000) are ushered onto a grass lawn nearby and the unsuccessful are put into a group to the side, and later taken back out to the gate, to awaiting family members or to walk home alone. Those who passed wait patiently, sitting on the grass in orderly queues and then go into the Assembly Hall to sit a written exam: What is your father's name, How old are you, Where do you live are typical questions. There are also some Swhaili questions and others which test them in Mathematics. We're looking for those who get the best results - around 16/20.

Of the original 2000, around 50 will pass the reading AND written test. They will then be given a letter and told to return the following morning at 7.30am with all their paperwork; something to show their age; school reports from their current school, recent exams and copy books. We're trying to find out (a) Where they place in their class (the school reports all show this in Tanzania); (b) if they actually did the exam (by comparing the handwriting on the test with that in the copybook) and (c) if they are actually the age they say they are.

I was shocked to find out how many lie, and yet how badly they try to cover it up... tippex is a very popular though remarkably unsubtle way of trying to change a date of birth, exam mark etc. Many others will have completely different handwriting than that of the exam the previous day - their brother or sister will have sat it on their behalf. Of those 50 students who return, around 20 or 30 will have what we perceive to be genuine paperwork. Some will bring genuine paperwork but perhaps they are ranking only around 15th place in a class of 50. We're looking for teh children in the Top 5 of their class, or perhaps the Top ten if the class is big (eg 70 students).

This all sounds like a terribly harsh way to judge seven year olds but because places are so limited, and more significantly, because they will have to sit VERY difficult National Exams by Standard 4 (when they're only around 12 years old), it's a necessary evil.

Of those remaining 20 or 30 succesful candidates, they will undergo the final part of the assessment - the poverty test. Immediately after they present their paperwork, they will go home on a bus with a Western teacher and an African teacher. We go in groups so that African teachers aren't pressured by families (The Mzungu gets the blame) and so that African teachers can translate.

At the child's home, we have to ask many questions about the family members, how many rooms they have (we check them); their income; rent etc. We then takes notes about where they live; how many people share a bed, whether the house/ room is made of cement, mud or wood; whether there are glass windows or electricity lines going to the house; where the nearest water source is and even if there is glass in the cabinets. Students who have mud floors and walls, share a bed between three, rent their house and have no electricity are more likely to get a place.

While at the house, the parents have to answer a number of questions to verify this is where they live; identifying neighbours, local schools; the name of the person who runs the local shop; where they buy kerosene from etc. This is then verified by the Tanzanian teacher who goes around and asks locals some questions. At this point, many lies are discovered; last week a clever young student took us to a family friend's house where her mother was waiting. They were able to produce her copybooks, school uniform but no family photos and couldn't say where they got water from. As it transpired, this was not their home. Ironically, they were probably poor enough to qualify but because they lied, they are automatically black-listed. They knew our system - they had copybooks from the last three years and her current school uniform folded neatly in a drawer (too neatly)... But were it my child, I couldn't say that I would behave any differently. I cannot possibly understand the desperation of such a life but I can only begin to imagine.

By Saturday afternoon, around 10-15 students will have passed the intelligence/ poverty test, and they will then come into the school for two weeks for a probation period. During this time, their ability and attitude will be assessed. Then one day, they will be taken from class and two more people will go home with them to check out their house again. Now the real professionals are discovered - the Mama that allegedly died will be found alive and well; the mud hut will no longer contain their uniform or copybooks... it really is heartbreaking because no child could plan that - it takes a careful training from their parents to make them lie. And having been in the school for a couple of weeks, it must be exceptionally painful for a child to go back to their old school with at least 50 others in the class, poor teachers and regularl beatings. But again, a necessary evil if the poorest and clever children are to be identified.

By now, we have around 100 students - of which around 40 have passed probation. Of the 100, hopefully we won't lose more than ten during their probation period. Unfortunately, many now know the St Judes testing procedures and are developing their own way of slipping through the net. So now we have a new procedure in place - a member of the Parents' committee (there are representatives from every village in the district) will visit the house, ask the neighbours questions and essentially verify that all the information we have is correct. This if the first year that this additional safety net has been put in place so we've yet to find out if it makes a difference.

The procedure I've described above accounts for around 70% of children who come into the school. The remaining 30% are compassion cases; orphans, children from exceptionally large families etc. In the "compassion" category are also those students who simply will not give up. They come back week after week to sit the test (they can do it as often as they like); they refuse to go home, they sneak past the guards and form a protest outside the office. Students like this are regarded as having enough tenacity and determination and usually do exceptionally well -better than the bright students in fact.

To witness thousands of children arrive on a Friday in Communion Dresses, ill-fitting suits, tattered and torn school uniforms and a range of other poor but clean clothes is heartbreaking. And yet to see the look of pure relief and ecstacy on their faces of the families of the successful children is somethign I cannot possibly explain. It is humbling, almost to the point of embarrassing to see how grateful they are. Imagine we, in the Western world, had to jump through such hoops so that our children might be educated... I shudder to imagine!

This system is tough, there's no doubt about it. But when I look at a child who only last year lived in a Masai village, high in the mountains, working as a housegirl for her grandparents who regularly beat her - and see her coming first in her class, I can't help think that this system probably gets it right. There are 700 such children at The School of St Jude now (the patron saint of hopeless cases) - they all have their own stories, most of which would break your heart. but they are thriving at hte school - they look happy and healthy and now they have a chance to break free from the cycle of poverty which has crippled their family and community for years.

In my opinion, only through education can Africa move forward. It will take a long time but it's possible. I'm very honoured to be a part of this heart-breaking, heart-warming process. come and see it for yourself one day - it will change the way you look at your life!