The following is an actual question given in a courseunit called professional ethics that I did back then.
This was a very difficult question I
had from one of the course units I did at college. I decided to
tackle it with a sense of humour. I might sound a little prejudiced
at some places but please read and digest before you judge me. I did
not score highly in it but I did not fail. I always thought that
everybody appreciated my sense of humour. Was wrong.
QUESTION:
Explain at least six ethical dilemmas
you faced during School Practice.
School
Practice is an activity involving new teachers going to their field,
in this case education, to literally practise what they have learnt.
These ‘new’ teachers are usually straight from colleges of
education or at the university doing a course in education. They
usually get schools from which to practise their teaching skills and
when the time to report comes they start their practise just like any
teacher would in that school. It is like a practical in chemistry in
the laboratory where this time you do not deal with beakers and
titration tubes but with the school as a whole: the teachers, the
students, and the non-teaching staff. It is not an easy thing and
especially not if it is your first time. You come across obstacles
sometimes. Some of these are what we call ethical dilemmas. Well, it
was my first time and I faced some of those ethical dilemmas. In real
life, a dilemma is a situation where you do not know what to choose,
or you are in a situation where you are forced to choose between two
things, or factors, both of which are unpleasant. An ethical dilemma
is when you are in a controversy to choose between what is right and
what is wrong. But there are usually times when people have different
views of what is wrong and what is right. In such a case, you find
yourself in an ethical or moral confusion, called a dilemma.
During
my School Practice, I faced a few dilemmas and the first one was that
the proprietor of the school I went to was white, as in not African.
The problem was not the colour of her skin, or her husband’s,
because they were always around the school but that white people
usually have a feeling towards Africans that makes me dislike them.
The proprietor, to be named ‘She’ hereafter, would exhibit some
of these feelings in many ways. For instance, you could not tell a
teacher from a student if it was not for the uniform. Teachers in
that school were treated how Senior Six students in another school
would not. There was a time, and there were several of such times,
when She came and found that the teachers were having a nap: this was
common after being fed on posho, the same as the students
which is not really the problem but being the nature of posho to
make you sleepy in the afternoon. She, being an old woman, took her
walking stick and hit the table so hard as to wake the dead. She then
went ahead to say that she did not pay anyone to sleep. Of course I
was not asleep personally but I was confused. Should I have told the
old lady to treat us with dignity or should I have kept quiet like
everyone else? They say two wrongs do not make it right, and that
even if a thousand people believe in a thing it does not make what
they believe in right. So, even if all teachers saw no wrong in what
she did, I was confused because according to the teaching profession
that was as wrong a crime as it gets. What accentuated the matter was
that the school was not all made of bricks, but being church-based,
it made use of the Church to accommodate two classes partitioned by
movable blocks of wood, and the staffroom was in the pulpit, also
partitioned in the same manner. This made sure that the students in
Senior Two, which was bordering the staffroom, and those of Senior
One further away could not only hear but they could see through the
partitions, that is if they cared to look. That was among the ethical
dilemmas I faced.
Secondly,
the ego of the proprietor – owing to the colour of her skin no
doubt – made her act in ways that were way too rude. This might
also have happened should She have been black for teachers are known
to go through anything to get that meagre salary they get. So in this
school meat, a rare delicacy, was served on Mondays and Fridays. That
almost made sure that every teacher was present at lunch, even those
who did not attend some other days of the week – that is those who
were part-time. As a result meat was never enough for all teachers
and it is said that even in the best of groups, there must be
somebody who is always messing up everyone. So one of these reported
to her and She never took her time; instead, She – being quite
computer literate – wrote a notice and with all her guts She did
not send anyone to pin it to the staffroom notice board. She brought
it herself. The poster had a picture of a cow, I guess She could not
get one that expressed her note better, and below the cow read, in
bold and capitalised: DON’T BE A PIG, DON’T TAKE MORE THAN TWO
PIECES OF MEAT. In all my life, no one had ever called me a pig, and
here I was, practising to be a teacher and somebody, white, was
actually calling me a pig. I bet She could have called me a monkey
had She been allowed. That note, as innocent as it looked, and as
good-looking as it was, being coloured (not in black and white) with
the picture of a cow, was so very racist to those who understood it.
I did not know whether to talk to my colleagues about calling a
meeting. The only problem was that among that group there were some
teachers who did not mind what you called them or thought of them as
long as you payed them. That really was a dilemma. According to me,
She should have called a meeting to handle such a matter, because
there was indeed a good number that ate more meat than everyone else.
The
other problem I faced was that I taught English and Literature and as
such, I had almost more lessons than many other teachers, being the
nature of the timetable in all good schools: English and Literature
should have as many hours in a week as possible. By this, I was
almost always in class, in Senior Two, just next to the staffroom.
The lady lived just behind the staffroom in a very big house with a
gate on it so she had enough privacy. The only problem is that when I
was teaching she would pass through the classroom, being partitioned
by blocks of wood only on those sides that bordered the staffroom and
Senior One. What was even worse was that she did not only pass
through the classroom but she also spoke to her students, the school
being those that value their students more than anybody else. So
there I would be literally shouting about what verbs are and why they
should never be confused with nouns. I say ‘shouting’ because the
nature of the classrooms asked this of you. If you did not, the
teacher in Senior One would be teaching both classes. So our dear old
lady would come to class and without excusing herself she would start
talking. It took me time to know and respect this peculiar
disposition of hers. Still, this was wrong. How could I tell her, or
the headteacher? It was impossible yet it was just an interruption of
the smooth flow of the lessons. I was confused, but of course She had
her way.
The
other problem I faced was of a personal nature. Being created by God
and he having endowed us with certain unalienable rights including
life, and also size, I am what you would call small. In fact, the
first time you see me you must notice that I am small, if you care to
look critically. So, one day I was just entering the school and at
the gate I met our dear old lady. Owing to her poor sight, no doubt
due to old age, she spotted me. I was not in uniform and so I was not
to be confused with a student. Whether she was trying to be funny or
not, I cannot tell, but if that was her idea of a joke, she needed to
read a how-to book on how to crack them. So she asked, in a voice
loud enough to address a school parade, “Are you a student or a
teacher?” I was kind of puzzled for not only had I not seen her but
I also did not expect her to talk to me from such a distance, being
not in uniform and supposedly having some privileges. I might have
been an official from the Ministry! When I came back to my mind,
because that had really taken me out of it, I smiled at her and said,
in a tone showing a lot of confidence, “A teacher, of course” to
which she replied, “You are too young to be a teacher” to which I
also replied, “Yeah, I am twenty-one”, smiled and moved on. There
were of course, many students who might have overheard this
conversation and this was just wrong. How was I supposed to tell this
lady to show me, and many of the other teachers who were treated
likewise, some respect? When somebody is not in uniform, how do you
go ahead and ask him a question like she did? I guessed it was wrong
to confront her. Her husband did the same one Wednesday afternoon.
The students were preparing to go out for what is curiously named
‘Intervention’ and so I was just in class as some were leaving. I
was talking to one of the Senior Twos and he came straight to me and
asked me where my uniform was, right in front of my students. I was
so humiliated and I must have gone red in the face with rage. What a
dilemma this was! I touched him on his shoulders, for he was a more
sociable man than his wife, and took him outside and explained to him
that big things come in small packages, to which he laughed and
became my friend henceforth. Notwithstanding, I was still puzzled on
how to make sure I was never again mistaken for a student. My problem
was I could not walk around like other teachers who walked with all
the airs of teaching experience around them.
In
my Senior Two class, there were girls who a priest himself would not
fail to give a second look, no matter how many years he might have
spent in the seminary. The problem with these girls was not that they
were beautiful, but that they had realised it too. They took
advantage of this and made teaching a profession demanding a lot of
endurance from the teachers, more so the male teachers. The dilemma I
faced during my lessons was to keep my eyes off them and this was not
an easy thing, especially I who had just joined the field. Their eyes
were, of course, always on the teacher. No matter how hard I tried to
keep my eyes off these beautiful girls, who by the way occupied all
the front desks, I always found myself wondering at their beauty, and
I think everyone noticed. The boys, especially the naughty ones who,
by way of their “trade” always sit behind – noticed and started
showing no interest in my lessons. I had a hard time as it was not a
weakness of mine but of man to notice. This was among the most
difficult things I had to overcome.
Finally,
I had this problem of some students who, from the countries they came
from, could not speak any word in English. The school, being private,
admitted them as the proprietor wished, which was not really a
problem but I feel there should have been different lessons for such
students. In teaching a language, it has been proven that if the
learner of a second language is taken and settled among those who
speak it then that leaner will have better chances of grasping the
language faster, a process called immersion. I had an Indian
girl, young and beautiful, but who could not say as much in English
as a kindergarten child could. I, as the teacher of English, had an
obligation to teach her English. This could not be possible as what
she needed was elementary English which I could not teach while
teaching the rest of the Senior Twos. I had practically nothing to do
since the residing teacher himself had done nothing, may be due to
lack of pay for any extra lessons, and so I let her move along with
the others. When the time for exams came, I got wind that what they
did was to let her copy from the others. This came as a shock to me.
What was she learning then, and how did she get to Senior Two? I felt
it was very wrong because her reports would indicate that she was
doing well yet in reality she was not learning anything. But I also
remembered a proverb about doing in Rome what the Romans do. So I let
her, against my wishes.
