As the class of 2024 embark on a post-Matric future, a new generation of Grade Rs sets off into the maw of South Africa’s education system. On the 15th of January, some tens of thousand of them – some kicking, screaming or just nervous – will leave the guardian’s bossom and enter the classroom for the very first time. For those with some familiarity in the early childhood development space, this might all be just another day at the office. But for many still, it’ll be a daunting encounter.
For Ma’am Lulama Maseti, the matriarch and principal at Kuyasa’s S. S. Madikane Primary School this was supposed to be the most chaotic, sometimes tear-jerking day of the annual school calendar. Since she assumed her position in 2019, that’s how it’s always been. To her pleasent surprise, 2025 turned out pretty orderly and manageable, partly because she and her staff had been planning as early as last year to counter the chaos. In no small part, she also gives credit to the parents who came out in large numbers and the 100% attendance on the part of her fellow educators.

‘On the first day,’ she says, ‘parents turn up because they want to see the teachers who will be looking after their children during the course of the day.’ She is proud that there were no glitches or delays, everything ran like clockwork and in the whir of the well-oiled machine, she got the genuine impression that the ‘kids showed a palpable longing to learn and to follow the rules.’ A native of Middleburg (Eastern Cape), Maseti’s duties at the school have seen her embracing – and vice versa – Colesberg as a home away from home.
On our tour – spontaneous and unannounced – of the school, this is the general demeanour we were met with: an affable place where the administration lady promptly greeted our intrusion with a smile and there were enough chairs for the few parents who were there to iron out some last-minute details. In a few short minutes we were escorted to the principal’s classroom, sooner still we had her picture and comment, and were now we’ll on our way to meet the unwitting heroes of this story.
In their low-hung tables and mini chairs, there they were, hair trimmed, shoes shining, some slunk back on the chairs like they had been cast in a kindergarten version of Sister Act 2. There were the soft-spoken ones, the ones who were eager to play class prefect from day one, and the assiduous Ma’am Ntombethando Fitshane keeping a watchful eye on them all. The doting Fitshane had hit the ground running and if anybody thought that they wouldn’t be doing any work on the first day of school, they were in for a big surprise. ‘Today,’ she announced rather frankly, ‘we are going to write.’ This elicited some glancing around but no protesting grumbling.

Fitshane clearly loves her job. Been in it for five years now and a few minutes in her class one quickly learns that dealing with oonomngqushwana – the small cobs – is not for the faint-hearted. You need to keep up with the jabber (shushing it when the decibels begin to interrupt the class next door) and the sudden bursts and movements of those who are still to get used to the concept of authority and being told what to do. She handles it well our Ma’am Fitshane, talking casually and giving instructions so as to keep the young minds’ attention on her. Whether she likes it or not, whatever her contribution on these children’s lives from now is inextricably intertwined to her own legacy as a Grade R teacher – inarguably amongst the most honourable occupations one will ever occupy.
One thing that strikes me as somewhat peculiar is that I don’t hear any sniffles or see any tears. Those are usually a mainstay on the day. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘there was one who was crying earlier, but as you can see, that’s all over now and everybody is happy.’
As best she can she’ll offer a shoulder to cry on, she’ll endeavour to ease the trepidation and uncertainty that is so commonplace as the kids come to terms with school life. She’ll ensure her handbag sometimes has sweets and lollies, there’ll be pleasantries in her mouth and dispensing hugs ad naseum will be her daily tariff.
One wishes it wasn’t so, but the statistics also predict dreadful trends in the long-term. They tell us that some of these optimistic youngsters will not be sitting down to write the Grade 12 Matric finals in 2038. Owing to a myriad reasons, as many as half of them will fall through the tracks. Although the Department of Basic Education was quick to laud the 87.3% pass rate of the Class of 2024 others were far from convinced. Build One South Africa pointed out that the ‘real’ Matric pass – ‘calculated by accounting for the number of learners who dropped out or otherwise never made it to matric’ was disappointingly lower.

Only 47% of these matriculants have managed a bachelor’s pass and the 30% pass mark ‘can inflate pass rates, with the current figures cited by many as unjustifiably low,’ reads a BusinessTech article. Although the DBE hit back at the 30% pass claim, BOSA still found that anything below a 50% pass mark to be problematic. According to international standards, only around 20% of African learners are performing to global standards.
In the long-term, the Grade Rs at S. S. Madikane will be met by other problems that have been giving the education department and the country sleepless nights. Some 80% of them will likely be unable to read for meaning at age 10 and be amongst the worst-performing in Mathematics in the whole world. They might have to contend with overcrowded classrooms, seemingly untouchable unions and sometimes an education system generally years behind the requirements of the working world.
Thi might well mean that with all their enthusiasm, their eagerness to learn, they might find themselves in a system where the odds are stacked high against them. Or, perhaps, sound leadership minds will prevail in coming years and this new generation of learners might be offered a fighting chance. On our visit we saw them all; the big-mouth lawyers, the keen artist colouring in his picture book, some 60 kids on one of the most important day of their lives. No doubt they have the attitude and dreams, let’s hope the big guns will come to the party and create the sort of environment for these to be realised.
