Reflections from Sydney Airport

“A Man Said to the Universe” — Stephen Crane

I am sitting in Sydney Airport awaiting a flight to Brisbane, after a week in this busy, impressive city.

My time here closed out with the Ireland vs Wallabies Rugby Test at the majestic Allianz Stadium, which apparently had its biggest-ever crowd last night. The Irish, it seems, can fill any stadium, anywhere.

Before the match, having secured the necessary pre-match beers, we made our way to a table on the concourse. As we stood there supping, two Irishmen came over and began to chat. They asked where I was from and I replied, “Leitrim” — which, in my experience, prompts 99 Irishmen out of 100 to say, “Ah, I didn’t know anyone came from Leitrim.” Except this time I had met the one in a hundred. “Which part of Leitrim are ya from?” he asked. “I’m from Drumshanbo.”

It turned out he had left Ireland in 1977, spent seven years in England, then twenty in New Zealand, before moving to Sydney in the early 2000s. His name was Hearne, and his brother had managed the Central Bar in Manorhamilton for many years — a place we used to frequent regularly. There, in the middle of Sydney, surrounded by Wallabies, Irish jerseys and plastic beer cups, was Leitrim again: improbable, insistent, and not in the least surprised to find itself at the centre of the universe.

I have also been reading the Sunday paper — The Sun-Herald — and it speaks to some interesting challenges currently preoccupying politicians and commentators in Australia. There is the familiar argument from some conservatives calling for monoculturalism: a return to “the way the country once was”, as opposed to multiculturalism, which embraces the actual realities of the country — including, rather importantly, the cultures that were here long before the first ships arrived from England.

There is also a deeply troubling awareness of antisemitism and its consequences. The Bondi Beach attack of 14 December 2025, in which gunmen targeted a Hanukkah celebration, killed 15 people and injured many more; Australian authorities described it as an antisemitic terrorist attack and the incident now sits within the broader work of the Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion. It is a sobering reminder that debates about identity, belonging and social cohesion are not abstract intellectual exercises. They have real human consequences.

A First Nations writer in The Sun Herald, Aunty Bunya Andrew, writes in her column: “The current political debate about what Australia should look like frames diversity as a problem.” She continues: “This country has never been a monoculture. For tens of thousands of years, First Nations people have been practising diversity, inclusion and belonging. Yet diversity did not mean disconnection. We remained connected through our love of Country and kinship, with shared values of belonging, respect and responsibility.”

Then there is an editorial titled, “Meddling parents do no favours for their children”. This relates to the escalation in aggressive and entitled behaviour from some parents whose children attend private schools — behaviour which has led many such schools to introduce explicit codes of conduct, contracts, or behaviour agreements to curb unhelpful parental interventions. Philip Heath, the Head of Barker College, is quoted as saying that there is an increased tendency on the part of some parents to “weaponise” disputes: calling lawyers or the police when unhappy with the school, using social media to whip up outrage, or using AI to craft complaints that then consume invaluable school resources in lengthy responses.

It was in this frame of mind — rugby crowds, wandering Leitrim men, national identity, antisemitism, parental entitlement, and airport coffee of uncertain moral quality — that I found myself thinking about Stephen Crane’s tiny poem, “A Man Said to the Universe”:

A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

The poem is almost offensively efficient. In just a few lines, it manages to do what some philosophers take several hundred pages to attempt: remind us that the universe does not owe us customer service.

The man’s opening line is magnificent:

“Sir, I exist!”

It is a wonderfully formal complaint. One can almost imagine him standing at the reception desk of existence, clutching a ticket, waiting to be called. The word “Sir” is especially comic. The man treats the universe as though it were a slightly senior administrator who has misplaced his paperwork. He appears to believe that the mere fact of his existence should matter — not just to him, but cosmically.

The universe’s reply is devastating:

“However…”
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

In other words: Noted. And?

The humour lies in the mismatch between human seriousness and cosmic indifference. The man makes what feels, to him, like a grand declaration. The universe responds with the chilling politeness of someone declining a funding request. It does not rage, punish, comfort, or explain. It simply refuses to be emotionally blackmailed by existence.

And this is where Crane’s poem brushes up so neatly against the modern problem of entitlement. There is a version of the man in the poem who lives in all of us. He is the part of us that says: I am here, therefore I must be recognised. I am offended, therefore someone must act. I am dissatisfied, therefore someone must be blamed. My child is unhappy, therefore the institution must rearrange itself immediately.

Of course, schools must listen carefully. They must act justly, communicate clearly, and be accountable. But there is a difference between legitimate concern and the belief that every discomfort is an injustice, every disappointment a failure of administration, and every “no” an act of personal aggression.

Crane’s universe is not cruel. That is the interesting thing. It is not hostile to the man. It does not say, “You do not matter.” It simply says, “Your existence does not automatically create an obligation in me.” That distinction matters. The poem is not an argument against compassion. It is an argument against inflated expectation.

The same applies to the debate about culture and belonging. To exist in a country, a school, or a community does not mean that everything must bend around one’s own preferences. Belonging is not the same as possession. To belong well is to recognise that others belong too. A healthy community is not created by the loudest person announcing, “Sir, I exist!” and then expecting the whole room to reorganise itself accordingly.

That is also why antisemitism — like all forms of hatred — is so corrosive. It denies belonging to others. It says, in effect, that one group’s presence, history, worship, grief or joy is somehow less legitimate than another’s. It turns identity into accusation and difference into threat. A society cannot be coherent if some of its members are made to feel that their very existence places them outside the circle of protection and respect.

In Aunty Bunya Andrew’s reflection, diversity is not presented as chaos or fragmentation, but as something held together by shared values: belonging, respect, responsibility. That is a far more mature understanding of community than the brittle dream of monoculture. It suggests that the answer to human difference is not to flatten it, nor to weaponise it, but to bind it through responsibility.

And perhaps that is what entitlement lacks most: responsibility. Entitlement says, “My need creates your obligation.” Responsibility says, “My need exists within a wider web of relationships, duties and limits.” Entitlement shouts at the universe. Responsibility learns to live meaningfully in it.

This is uncomfortable because we are all, at times, the man in the poem. We want effort to guarantee success, goodness to guarantee protection, and sincerity to guarantee understanding. We want the universe to behave like a decent schoolmaster: firm, fair, and available during office hours. Crane’s universe, however, is not marking our homework. It is not even sure we are in the class.

And yet the poem is not merely bleak. Its humour saves it from despair. There is something absurdly human, even endearing, about the man’s protest. He may be entitled, but he is also brave enough to speak. His “Sir, I exist!” is ridiculous — but also deeply recognisable. It is the cry behind every prayer, complaint, application, ambition, grievance, and sulk.

Crane leaves us with a bracing lesson: we should not confuse existence with entitlement. The universe may not owe us meaning, justice, comfort, or applause. But that does not make our lives meaningless. It simply means that meaning is not handed down like a receipt. We may have to create it ourselves — through humility, service, responsibility, humour, and the occasional willingness to accept that not every disappointment is evidence of institutional failure.

In short, the poem says: you exist. That matters enormously to you, and perhaps to those who love you. But the universe is under no obligation to rearrange itself accordingly.

It has read your email.

It regrets that it cannot assist on this occasion.

I’m old school when it comes to coffee: is flavouring pure folly?

Coffee, the elixir of life, the fuel of the industrious, and the comforting hug in a mug that gets me going every morning. For much of my early life, having a good coffee was a cup of Nescafe Classic as opposed to the regular Maxwell House Instant that my mother kept in our house. In any event, growing up in Ireland, the ‘go-to’ hot beverage was a pot of Barry’s Tea. Real coffee came later.

Like a lot of things that come one’s way slightly later in life, I now like to think of myself somewhat of a coffee connoisseur. So, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself sipping on a cup of vanilla-flavored coffee at my weekly meeting with Jannie, my counterpart in the school next door.

Now, before I dive into my caffeinated rant, let me set the scene. Jannie, with his impeccable hospitality, requested his charming professional assistant to whip us up a fresh pot of coffee. The aroma wafted through the air, promising warmth and comfort, but it did have a slightly different tinge to it. Then, after plunging the filter of the French Press came the first sip and the moment of revelation: vanilla-flavored beans.

Here’s the thing: good coffee doesn’t need flavoring. It stands proud and tall, like a well-tailored suit at a formal event. Flavoring is like wearing a beach shirt to a black-tie gala. Sure, it’s colourful and fun, but it’s just not appropriate, is it? When I took my first sip, I felt like I was drinking a dessert rather than a strong cup of coffee.

Let’s talk about the old-school approach to coffee. A simple, robust brew that doesn’t masquerade as something it’s not. It’s like the classic rock of beverages: bold, timeless, and utterly dependable. You know what you’re getting with a good traditional cup of black coffee—no surprises, no gimmicks. Just pure, unadulterated bliss.

My holiday ritual is generally grinding enough Masterson’s Chipembere coffee beans (Gqeberha’s finest coffee merchants and surely on of the best in all South Africa), a blend of the best of African coffee, setting up my Italian moka pot on the stove, frothing the warm milk and sitting on the deck while the waves wash on the beach just a short distance away. Pure, unadulterated, a ritual of worship to simple technology and pure ingredients.

Now, I’m not saying that there isn’t a time and place for flavouring. Perhaps it has its merits in the realm of the extravagant and the festive. Like a Christmas party where everyone is a little too merry and you need a peppermint mocha to match the holiday spirit. But on a Monday morning while discussing the educational futures of our boys and girls? I’d prefer my coffee like I prefer my educational policies: straightforward and no-nonsense.

There’s also the question of identity. Coffee, much like a fine wine, has its own character, which gets overshadowed when you start adding flavourings. It’s like putting a mustache on the Mona Lisa—it may be interesting, but it’s most definitely not an improvement. Each coffee bean has a story to tell, a journey from the lush hills of Uganda, Ethiopia or Kenya to my breakfast table. I want to hear that story.

So, to all the coffee lovers out there, I say this: embrace the simplicity of a good, strong cup of black coffee. Let it be your morning ritual, your trusted companion, your grounding force in a world filled with chaos and flavoured distraction. And next time you’re in Jannie’s office, just politely ask for the classic brew.

After all, old school is fine—and sometimes, it’s essential.

Killavoggy to Kokstad…. in the footsteps of Bishop Dr John Evangelist McBride OFM

As a boy, attending Sunday Mass at our local church was a fearsome experience. Men and women sat apart on either side of the aisle, and the sermons were generally of the ‘hell and damnation’ variety. Yes, we were destined to spend eternity in hell unless we mended our ways, and in Roman Catholic Ireland of the 60s and 70s, that meant slavish conformity to the prevailing dogma and doctrine. This was long before the emergence of the cool and prosperous Celtic Tiger Ireland. It would also be several years before the misogynistic brutality and sexual abuse that was still being perpetrated at that time by members of the church (largely with the blind approval of leaders in society) would come to light.

Which is why the visits home to Ireland by Bishop Dr John Evangelist Mc Bride remain so vivid in my memory. You see, Bishop McBride came home from Africa every few years for a long stay and would generally celebrate the Mass on two or three occasions on each visit. He was a popular and respected person in our deeply rural and humble community. When Bishop McBride was due to take the Sunday Mass, the Chapel would be full and relations would arrive from all corners of Ireland. This was out of love and respect, but also because the message he shared was so very different to the prevailing orthodoxy in Ireland at the time.

John Kilbride’s story

John Kilbride was born in a small farm house on the 12th of March 1903 in Beagh, just a short distance from Killavoggy Chapel, in Co. Leitrim. Nearly 60 years later, on 11 March 1962, I would be born a mile further down the road in Tullycooley. Like me, John Kilbride attended the local Killavoggy National School for his primary education: back in the home place in Ireland is a school photograph of the boys and girls of that school from 1912 with John at the front, wearing a dress of sorts and in bare feet. Half a century later, we would also go to the same school in bare feet.

On leaving the national school, John went to the College in Multyfarnham, Mullingar, Co. Westmeath and from his early days as a student he showed signs of a superior intellect. After receiving his Franciscan Habit he went on to St. Anthony’s College in Louvain, Belgium where he obtained his Doctorate in Philosophy, and then he went to St. Isidore’s College in Rome where he became a Doctor of Divinity of the Roman Gregoriana. He was then ordained in 1927.

Being a proud Irishman, he also changed his surname in the 30s, dropping the anglicized ‘Kilbride’ in favour of the more Irish ‘McBride’. His career in the Francisan Order was nothing short of phenomenal, and he was the youngest Provincial ever appointed in Ireland, serving three successive 3-year terms. It was a time when the Franciscan Order was blossoming in Ireland under the new government of Eamonn De Valera and McBride’s accomplishments by his mid-40s would have been more than most people would have achieved in double that age. But he was only just getting started, for he had another life’s work to complete in Africa, specifically South Africa.

Before World War II the German Franciscans had taken over the Community at Kokstad. They were interned during the war and were unable to get Friars to replace them from Germany, Dr. Mc Bride agreed to help by sending out Friars from Ireland and accepting the post of Vicar Apostolic of Kokstad himself. He was ordained Bishop of Exani in 1949 and became the 1st Bishop of Kokstad in 1951. He would remain in that position for nearly 30 years, growing a fledgling community of fewer than 5000 Roman Catholics to ten times that number.

Amongst his accomplishments were a seminary here in Pretoria (where I live) opened in 1951 with a staff of 12 Friars, which soon built up a reputation for excellence. Two hospitals, one in Bizana and the other in Lusikisiki as well as over 40 churches, schools and clinics. Through his love for and his influence with the various branches of the Franciscan Order he was able to staff the hospitals with Franciscan Sisters, making both hospitals oases of healing and models of efficent administration, where many local young women were trained to look after and care for their own people.

Over the period of his ministry, he was continually working against the oppression and interference of the Nationalist Government that came into power in 1948 and which ruthlessly set out to implement a racist ideology into every facet of life in South Africa. The Catholic Church (along with the Anglican and Methodist Churches) gave courage, comfort and refuge to those seeking a more just society. State surveillance and interference was incessant.

Back to Killavoggy

Bishop McBride’s sermons on those Sunday mornings stood out because his ministry was founded on the Franciscan way. He would speak of the infinite mercy and forgiveness of God. He preached in metaphors and parables, two of which I can clearly describe to this day. These were almost subversive in their vehement insistence on the fact that we were all actually saved and that it was never too late to gain access to eternal glory of heaven.

His parables were the Parable of the Prodigal Son on steroids. For a young and unsure boy who would grow into a shy and unsure adolescent, Bishop McBride’s teaching saved my faith. I am quite certain that his teaching did the same for hundreds and thousands of others, in Ireland and in Africa.

Kokstad

Kokstad is a small and prosperous town in an agricultural region in southeast South Africa. I’ve lived and worked in this country since 1985 and had never visited Kokstad until a couple of months ago. I went on a road trip around the country and one of my stops was the town in which my neighbor and kinsman from Killavoggy had devoted his life for 30 years.

The influence of John McBride’s ministry is powerfully present in the seat of the Diocese. He built so much, and not just in terms of planning, for the Franciscans actually built with their own hands. He brought bright young men and women to the region, he made it a place of thought, growth and hope. It’s there on the foundation stones of the buildings, in the photographs on the walls, and in the stories of those who remember his ministry. Two of his successors in the seat of Kokstad are hugely influential today: Archbishop Liam Slattery and Cardinal William Napier (also a Franciscan)

Walking in his footsteps…..

It is a long way from Killavoggy to Kokstad. John McBride made that journey at least ten times over the course of his 29 Years as Bishop of Kokstad, and made the trip back to Ireland for the last time in 1978. As I walked through the buildings in the Cathedral precinct, I thought of Bishop McBride walking on these same pathways and floors.

Yvonne Rooi is the financial officer for the Diocese and she kindly took time to show me around. She suggested that I must be only person from the Bishop’s home community to have walked in his footsteps in Kokstad. As I knelt to pray in the humble Cathedral where my kinsman had preached and taught for so long, I was transported back to those Sunday mornings in Killavoggy.

I have no idea why it took me 35 years to walk in Bishop McBride’s footsteps. I am very glad that I did. I’m sorry that I didn’t do so long ago, maybe early enough to have been able to visit him in his later years of retirement at the friary at Merchants Quay in Dublin. Just to let him know that another son of Killavoggy had set eyes on the places to which he had devoted his life, had sensed the powerful legacy of his ministry.

Then again, Bishop Dr John McBride would not have needed my validation. I know that I am incredibly proud of what his life’s ministry achieved. There were tears of pride in my eyes as I drove down the main street and headed back onto the N2 and on to the next leg of my journey.

The rich tapestry of our lives

John McBride devoted his life to the formation of clergy and religious, the bringing of the Good News to people who didn’t know it, the comforting of the oppressed and downtrodden, the empowerment of the excluded. His message was one of hope and of light. That message helped form my life and my faith and I realise now that his teaching has informed my life in a way that I have not always fully recognised or appreciated. I was never able to thank him personally, but hopefully he would have heard the gratitude in my prayer in his Cathedral at Kokstad on Thursday 12 November.

Bishop McBride – brother, kinsman, pastor – thank you, ke a leboga, baie dankie, go raibh mile maith agat. May your soul be resting in peace.

Outside the Cathedral at Kokstad

“Galway is the promise of a sunny day with definite certainties of rain…..”

“Galway is the promise of a sunny day with definite certainties of rain…..” if you’ve ever lived there, you’ll know exactly what that means.

I went to varsity in Galway, you could say I grew up there. Shared a house for a couple of years with a lad from Kerry called Tim Sheahan and a few years later we both came out to South Africa for a bit of craic … he went home after his contract was up and I stayed. We were still growing up.

My youngest brother Matt ended up in UCG too, and met Fiona, a Galway woman through and through, and after a decade together they got married and didn’t they celebrate their 24th wedding anniversary just this past Tuesday.

It was in Galway that friendships were formed, marriages made and lifetimes shaped. Every time we’re back in Ireland now with our adult kids, we make a plan to pull into the tribal city for at least a night.

It started when Rentia and myself spent a night there back in 88 on our honeymoon, and on another trip a few years later we met the writer Colum McCann in Charlie Byrne’s bookshop as we were paying for a copy of his new latest novel (at that time) ‘Songdogs’. He came over and introduced himself as we turned away from the till and told us that he’d never seen anyone purchasing one of his books before. We told him that the only book that both of us had ever shared enjoyment was his first publication ‘Fishing the Sloe Black River’ and Colum says “well that’s far too much of a connection not to celebrate with a pint or two” and we went down to Teach Ui Neachtan and settled in with Colum and a slew of arts festival types. We chatted about Heaney and Healy and McCabe, and the new democracy in SA. Before we left, Colum inscribed the book “New friendships on a lovely sunny evening in Galway.” We’ve read everything he has ever published since that evening.

Earlier this week I was in our local bookstore here in Pretoria (Exclusive Books Menlyn) and I went up to the till to buy McCann’s brand new book ‘Apeirogon’ for Rentia just to say … lots of things… and the young guy on the till says “This is a totally weird book. It jumps all over the place. Do you know the writer?” What?!! Do I know the writer?!!! So I tell him the story of a sunny evening in Galway and meeting McCann and he says “…. awe I feel so envious of you”. I suppose I should have felt bad.

There is no more beautiful small city in the world than Galway when the sun is shining, and the pint of Guinness tastes better in Galway than anywhere else. And I’ve tried it in many’s a place. Maybe OSullivan’s Bar in Crookhaven or Gus O’Connor’s Pub in Doolin or Austie’s Bar in Rosses Point set the standard … pints that were also enjoyed on crystal clear sunny evenings. But there was a sunny evening just a couple of years ago on which myself and Rentia and our two sons, Adam and Conor pulled into O’Connell’s Bar in Eyre Square where we had a few of the most sparkling pints ever. You can see it in the photo.

Here’s a poem for the time of the year that’s in it, when there’s a stretch in the evening, a bit of sun about, and pulling in a for a few pints would be the ideal way to chill at the end of the day….. especially if you’re going past Galway. And maybe the pubs will be open again by the end of the summer.

‘Promise of a Sunny Day’ by Paul McCarrick

Galway is the promise of a sunny day with definite certainties of rain

wrapped in another promise of a longer November evening

all trapped in a magician’s pocket on Shop Street who promises

you the world but gives you wrong directions to the Claddagh.

Along this trail on this Tuesday afternoon, you see men diving

into big pints of stout, drowsed, defeated, drinking the black stuff.

This plan is their first of many savage plans on the good day.

It is probably their first love; the pints, the defiance, Galway.

You hear them tell this to the women, partners, friends, patrons

with bad timing, now caught in the web of addictive tribal craic.

You see from their full-teeth laughs, their faces shaded with dread

that these pints, with the help of predictive hindsight, will be well-intended.

They love the pint of plain as only they can, but they also love whipped breaths

of wilderness that make the evening, stationary solid stones of coast and walls,

market fresh Saturday mornings. It’s what brought you here, organised madness

with enough road markings to fool you to think that, somewhere, there is control.

Galway is probably your first breaking too, the tides high enough to walk across,

the bars low enough to trip over, enough ill-judged nights had to power red heaters

for a lashing month in a smoking area for sardines. You are ten-years full of awe

and wonder and have the perfect vision of cultúr and can still deny the existence

of a fast-approaching future that blows through these busker-lined paths and

breaks cobblestone cereal bowls. You can look at anyone the way Sally O’Brien

might have looked at you on a Tuesday, but we will remember that today is still

indeed a Tuesday with all the promise of a sunny day and definite certainties of rain.

A leader’s first job is to create a thinking environment…..

I have more time to read, reflect and review in the past few weeks of this Covid-19 lockdown than I have had for years. In fact, not having to travel to work is adding three hours to my day. Somehow, I don’t think the world is simply going to collapse back into the way it was. The digital nature of our world – home, work, entertainment and leisure –  is transformed. As WB Yeats wrote over a century ago is his great poem on the Irish Rebellion – ‘Easter 1916’ –  our world is  “changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.”

So, I have decided to revisit the blogs I’ve written on this page, to update those that have stood the test of time and republish them. Hopefully, if the tech is all in working order, these blogs will also appear on Twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook.

This is the first post that is coming back for the second time and it is concerned with the concept of creating a thinking environment in our lives. When I wrote it, I intended this thinking environment to be a work environment, but with nearly all of my work colleagues over 100km away from me, my wife running her team from a new upstairs Covid-19 office, and our daughter completing her Masters thesis in the real downstairs office/study (she has been using it for more than a year and has occupational rights til the thesis is done), I realise now that thinking environments aren’t just physical or social spaces, they are relational and can exist in virtual spaces too.

Here goes…..

My friend Diane is a mentor, a coach and a comfort. Her first gift to me was the book Time to Think – Listening to Ignite the Human Mind by Nancy Kline. (Cassell Illustrated ISBN 0–7063–7745–1). It is a book that changed my views on the world profoundly (perhaps second only to the Bible). I stopped looking for answers inside myself all the time and began to recognize that answers lay in others. More often than not, those other answers were better than anything I could have found inside myself.

My role became one of listening and asking questions that helped the person to whom I was listening to go deeper in his/her own thought. Having an opportunity to attend two workshops with Nancy at GIBS in 2009 and 2011 embedded my understanding all the more. I wish that I had learned such wisdom earlier in my life. I see its power daily.

We can be thinking partners, if I……

…listen and regard you as being my equal as a thinker

…appreciate you five times more than I criticise you

… can show feelings at work and not be medicated or buried

…can give you the courage to go to the end of your thinking by not competing with you

… am keenly aware of how different we are

…want your ideas, especially when they are different to mine

As a CEO/ Head / Manager / Leader, do I ……

…recognise that my first expertise is the one that releases the expertise in you?

…see that my main task is to allow the individuals in my team to think?

…try to keep my expertise in a heavy Velcro bag next to my desk, only pulling it out when it is absolutely needed? (a loose bag or a box on my desk won’t do!)

…have the feeling that I matter profoundly in my place of work because I do not matter at all?

Getting the best out of our people…..

…means getting their best thinking

…means knowing how to offer them the best quality attention based on genuine interest.

…means believing that each and every member of my team can think for themselves better than anyone else can think for them (most especially me)

…means acknowledging them – concretely and often

…means knowing how to get them to get beyond an addiction for certainty and into a preference for responsible risk.

Transformative Listening…..is nearly a work of art

It comes from genuine interest in where your counterpart will go in their thinking, and from your courage to trust their intelligence.

…..  To be interrupted is not good.

….. To get lucky and not be interrupted is better!

….  But to know that you will not be interrupted allows you truly to think for yourself.

Questions/Ideas to keep on my desk….near my Velcro bag!

Is there something around here that I am not noticing?

Are there things I should be saying that you need to hear or know?

Tom, knowing they are not going to be interrupted frees people to think faster and say less.

CEOs / Heads / School Leaders, creating and shaping change at unprecedented rates, have to be able to think for themselves and to set up the conditions in every interaction and in every meeting that will allow people at all levels to think for themselves too – with rigour, imagination, courage and grace.

 

I would like to think that the teams I have led in the past decade have experienced a little of this. And the amazing thing is that while I have empowered and encouraged others to think, my own thinking has deepened in rich and wonderful ways. I feel surplus to requirements often: that might mean it is time to go…. and as it happens, that is exactly what I am preparing to do.

It is a good place to be.

Adverts for Vacancies at Kitsong School, Phokeng, North West Province

Calling passionate and talented teachers and school managers to join the Royal Bafokeng Institute’s fledgling Kitsong School in Phokeng, North West Province.

Kitsong Principal Advert Oct 2019Kitsong School Advert Oct 2019

First Day Back 2019 – reflections on school culture from the corridor

There is an old saying among anthropologists that fish would be the last creatures to discover water even though it is the most ubiquitous and influential aspect of a fish’s existence. So it is with school culture and teaching. Just as water surrounds and envelopes fish, shaping their perspectives and determining their courses of action, culture surrounds and envelopes teachers forming their perspectives and influencing their decisions and actions.

Teachers work within a cultural context that influences every aspect of their pedagogy and practice, yet this pervasive element of a school is elusive and difficult to define. Culture influences all aspects of schools, including such things as how the staff dresses, what staff talk about in the staff room, how teachers decorate their classrooms, their emphasis on certain aspects of the curriculum, and teachers’ willingness to change. In essence, if culture changes, everything changes.

I’ve worked in independent schools all my life and now in my current role I’m straddling the independent and public education boundary, overseeing schools instead of leading one.

As a school head, I always tried my best to stay focused on what really mattered, the enduring issues in a school. What are these enduring issues?

The first thing that concerns me is teacher morale and motivation. If they lose morale and motivation – even it be a small minority – then the energy in the school is diminished and disrupted. Wherever I’ve led, I tried to hire teachers for their hearts and their ability to form relationships with young people as much as their qualifications and intellect. People like that run on encouragement and affirmation, because that is exactly how they manage to get their students through the multiple challenges that lie before them, challenges that must be overcome by those students and not be brushed away by their teachers.

The second enduring issue is school culture and climate. School culture has been described as being similar to the air we breathe. No one notices it unless it becomes foul. The culture of a school can be a positive influence on learning or it can seriously inhibit the functioning of the school.

Several writers suggest that a school with a positive school culture is a place with a shared sense of what is important, a shared ethos of caring and concern, and a shared commitment to helping students learn. They also conclude that schools that are conducted in a culture exhibiting these positive qualities have teachers and staff members who are willing to take risks and enact reforms. In my view, if any school is to improve itself in the coming decade, the first thing it must do is to ensure that it doesn’t take its existing school culture for granted – the second thing is to avoid damaging that culture by seeking to reduce every interaction to a transaction.

The third and final enduring issue is the behaviour of its students. There is no doubt that the behaviors of young people in any school is directly and profoundly influenced by the culture in that school. Their behaviour is a symptom of their general state of happiness and connection with their school.

I am writing this as the learners of our new low fee school Kitsong are walking the corridors on their first day back after the long Christmas holidays. My office is on the corridor, last year’s energy and behaviour was affirming, collegial and hopeful. Let’s hope that 2019 sees more of the same.

Royal Bafokeng Institute launches E-Learning Partnership with Tendopro

Through the office of Mme Monei Seloho, Provincial Public Sector Manager of Nedbank, RBI was introduced to Tendopro in March 2018. Tendopro.com is a social education platform online e-learning tool that helps learners reinforce and solidify important subject concepts taught in the classroom. Revision content is developed and sourced, both locally and from international sources, and is curated and aligned to the CAPS curriculum.

The tool delivers an informative yet fun and engaging learning experience that adapts to modern ways of accessing and consuming content. Learners are rewarded with TENDOBERRIES for interacting with content and for completing revision content and activities.

Tendopro.com launched in August 2016 with Grade 8-12 Mathematics and introduced Maths Literacy in January 2017. March 2018 saw the introduction of Grade 10-12 Physical and Life Sciences, and Grade 8-12 English FAL.

The program is currently assisting over 77000 users with a target to add another 140000 users in 2018. The company’s medium to long term aim is to give every secondary school learner and teacher in South Africa access to Tendopro.com resource.

The RBI & Tendopro Partnership will augment the existing ‘School Within a School’ programmes at Thethe and Charora and will also bring much needed resource to Matale Secondary, one of our three transitioning Middle Schools who will produce their first Grade 12 Learners at the end of this year.

Our RBI E-Learning Strategy

The most advanced E-Education strategy in South Africa has been developed by the Gauteng Education Department. The Gauteng ICT and E-Education Strategy for education spells out 6 vital Pillars for successful implementation and adoption of ICT in the teaching and learning process. These are:

• Pillar 1 – Connectivity: we now have ten connected schools with Thethe identified as a lead school for an E-Learning Pilot Programme. Our thanks to Rre Timothy Talane and RBA for their enthustiasm and commitment to growing e-learning in the RBN.

• Pillar 2 – Content: digital content available through the portal for learners and teachers. RBI is already developing Kitsong as a Full-ICT low-fee school in which all learning materials are developed for online learning, a programme that is being brilliantly developed by Principal Ken Krige and young and enthusiastic professional team. This new partnership will ensure that we can take elements of that exciting curriculum to other schools and TendoPro brings the range of variety available to every single gateway discipline. The Tendopro materials are accessible online in a format that encourages the student to engage further and rewards her/him for doing so.

• Pillar 3 – Capacity: training of teachers to on ICT, curriculum and pedagogy. It is our belief that we will achieve optimum outcomes by identifying and incentivising teachers already in the schools who have a passion for IT in the educational context. We already have that at Kitsong and this new partnership will increase the levels of proficiency in E-Learning. We will create capacity at home through support from our partner company, TendoPro: teacher development will be an important part of this process.The Department of Basic Education has also pledged its support for this process.
• Pillar 4 – Infrastructure: technical support and physical pre-requisites such as power, a secure environment for ICT and devices with which to access the resource. Again, we wish to thank the RBA IT Dept for its excellent work in this regard.

• Pillar 5 – Innovation: inter-branch management and monitoring of the study, and an innovation group to foster implementation of best practice. RBI and TendoPro have committed to establishing a formal Monitoring and Evaluation framework for this project and we intend to share results with all of our partners and funders. The Monitoring and Evaluation Framework is being developed by the RBI Quality Assurance Unit and will be implemented from 1 July 2018 through to the end of 2019.

Partnership Timeline

•

15 – 22 May: All Learners in Grades 8 & 9, plus all Core Mathematics Learners in Grades 10-12 at the three connected secondary schools were registered by RBI and Tendopro.
• May/June 2018: TendoPro launched the E-learning Programme in special school assemblies at Thethe (28 May), Matale (30 May) and Charora (4 June).
• June 2018: Training of Educators and IT Coordinators will be conducted by Tendopro. Tendopro will be training Mathematics and Science teachers in the use of the resource and will also train one teacher at each school to be the on-site IT Coordinator.
• July 2018 – December 2019: The RBI Quality Assurance unit will develop and test the Monitoring & Evaluation Frameworks for the Pilot E-Learning Partnership. Implementation of the M&E process is the commencement of the 3rd Term of the school year in July and the programme outc omes will be reported monthly through to the end of 2019.
Connecting to the Programme – Provision of Devices
Our Data sugg ests that less than 65% of learners at the connected secondary schools have access to a cellphone. RBI is currently speaking to funders in order to ensure that each and every Learner in Grade 8 & 9 as well as all Mathematics Learners in Grade 10 – 12 will be able to receive a simple and inexpensive cellphone with which to engage with the learning materials. We are delighted that Royal Bafokeng Platinum has kindly agreed to sponsor the provision of these devices at Charora Secondary School and we are hopeful that we will be able to source funding for the same at the other two schools on the pilot programme.
Expected results of the project
• The TendoPro database has levels of improvement that range between 5% and 120% in terms of before and after marks in formal assessments.
• The prevailing standards in Mathematics and Science in the RBN schools (and rural SA in general) is challenging and several such intervention initiatives have failed to show impact in the past. In that light, we will be aiming to show a 10% improvement in marks from Grade 8 to Grade 12 in the first year (by December 2018) and the same again in 2019.
• We also aim to report on how many hours of additional engagement with the programme materials are required for incremental improvements in each learner’s marks.

This RBI / Tendopro Partnership is being financially supported by Nedbank. The Programme Manager at RBI is Mme Gadifele Moremi. Mobilisation of Learners and Training of Educators is being led by Mr Jerome Maggerman, MD of Tendopro. The partnership is supported by the Bojanala District Office of the DBE and the Principals, SMTs and SGBs of the three schools.

Finally, this outcome is an indication of collaboration between the various Royal Bafokeng entities, for Nedbank came to our door in the first place because of a referral from Mme Boitumelo Mputle, our RBA Shared Services HR Manager. We are stronger together.

Our colleagues Rre Ken Krige and Dr Sope Maithufi will be running the Comrades this year and the motto in 2018 is ‘Asijiki – No turning back.’ Hopefully, that will apply in our RBI & Tendopro partnership too.

The Weird Strategy Dr. Seuss Used to Create His Greatest Work by James Clear

I’m sitting in my car after having parked, waiting for a workshop with MicroSoft on setting up an MS Imagine Academy out here in North West Province. The venue is Elegant Manor, a place which was my home from home for much of last year. It is situated close to my office but I haven’t been here since October last year, an eight month gap.

The ownership has changed and the managers, Suzann and Ruth, are also long gone. It looks the same, but it isn’t quite the same. Only Rre Lucky is here still. He came to chat and we reflected on how tough times are here on the Platinum Belt. How fortunate we are to have jobs. How the time of plenty is behind us and how we’ll have to learn how to do far more with far less.

In fact, that very much what I have been doing at the company too. Stabilising after a period of massive cutbacks and retrenchments, finding been shoots to give us reason to hope and build again, establishing better processes and building capacity in small ways.

Then I opened my email and this mornings thought message from James Clear is in my Inbox. It is serendipitous because we are trying to manage better and build more within tighter constraints.

The right article for the right day.

(You can read this on JamesClear.com)

In 1960, two men made a bet.

There was only $50 on the line, but millions of people would feel the impact of this little wager.

The first man, Bennett Cerf, was the founder of the publishing firm, Random House. The second man was named Theo Geisel, but you probably know him as Dr. Seuss. Cerf proposed the bet and challenged that Dr. Seuss would not be able to write an entertaining children’s book using only 50 different words.

Dr. Seuss took the bet and won. The result was a little book called Green Eggs and Ham. Since publication, Green Eggs and Ham has sold more than 200 million copies, making it the most popular of Seuss’s works and one of the best-selling children’s books in history. [1]

At first glance, you might think this was a lucky fluke. A talented author plays a fun game with 50 words and ends up producing a hit. But there is actually more to this story and the lessons in it can help us become more creative and stick to better habits over the long-run.

Here’s what we can learn from Dr. Seuss…

The Power of Constraints

What Dr. Seuss discovered through this little bet was the power of setting constraints.

Setting limits for yourself — whether that involves the time you have to work out, the money you have to start a business, or the number of words you can use in a book — often delivers better results than “keeping your options open.”

In fact, Dr. Seuss found that setting some limits to work within was so useful that he employed this strategy for other books as well. For example, The Cat in the Hat was written using only a first-grade vocabulary list.

In my experience, I’ve seen that constraints can also provide benefits in health, business, and life in general. I’ve noticed two reasons why this occurs.

1. Constraints inspire your creativity.

If you’re five foot five inches tall and you’re playing basketball, you figure out more creative ways to score than the six foot five inch guy.

If you have a one-year-old child that takes up almost every minute of your day, you figure out more creative ways to get some exercise.

If you’re a photographer and you show up to a shoot with just one lens, then you figure out more creative ways to capture the beauty of your subject than you would with all of your gear available.

Limitations drive you to figure out solutions. Your constraints inspire your creativity.

2. Constraints force you to get something done.

Time constraints have forced me to produce some of my best work. This is especially true with my writing. Every Monday and Thursday, I write a new article — even if it’s inconvenient.

This constraint has led me to produce some of my most popular work in unlikely places. When I was sitting in the passenger seat on a road trip through West Virginia, I wrote an article. When I was visiting family for the 4th of July, I wrote an article. When I spent all day flying in and out of airports, I wrote an article.

Without my schedule (the constraint), I would have pushed those articles to a different day. Or never got around to them at all. Constraints force you to get something done and don’t allow you to procrastinate. This is why I believe that professionals set a schedule for their production while amateurs wait until they feel motivated.

What constraints are you setting for yourself? What type of schedule do you have for your goals?

Related note: Sticking to your schedule doesn’t have to be grand or impressive. Just commit to a process you can sustain. And if you have to, reduce the scope.

Constraints are Not the Enemy

So often we spend time complaining about the things that are withheld from us.

“I don’t have enough time to work out.”
“I don’t have enough money to start a business.”
“I can’t eat this food on my diet.”
But constraints are not the enemy. Every artist has a limited set of tools to work with. Every athlete has a limited set of skills to train with. Every entrepreneur has a limited amount of resources to build with. Once you know your constraints, you can start figuring out how to work with them.

The Size of Your Canvas

Dr. Seuss was given 50 words. That was the size of his canvas. His job was to see what kind of picture he could paint with those words.

You and I are given similar constraints in our lives.

You only have 30 minutes to fit a workout into your day? So be it. That’s the size of your canvas. Your job is to see if you can make those 30 minutes a work of art.

You can only spare 15 minutes each day to write? That’s the size of your canvas. Your job is to make each paragraph a work of art.

You only have $100 to start your business? Great. That’s the size of your canvas. Your job is to make each sales call a work of art.

You can only eat whole foods on your diet? That’s the size of your canvas. Your job is to take those ingredients and make each meal a work of art.

There are a lot of authors who would complain about writing a book with only 50 words. But there was one author who decided to take the tools he had available and make a work of art instead.

We all have constraints in our lives. The limitations just determine the size of the canvas you have to work with. What you paint on it is up to you.

Courage Resurfacing…. and Susan Sontag

It has been months since I bought the Sunday papers here at home in South Africa. Too much sordid news, far too much skullduggery, corruption being revealed week in and week out. But today is a Sunday and it is different: it is the first Sunday of the Ramaphosa presidency. Maybe the papers will feel compelled to change their narrative today.

In the past few days, I have been thinking about the sudden and overwhelmingly positive change in leadership, approach and intention by so many in government and in associated state entities under the new ANC leadership. So much has been written about ‘rats jumping ship’, ‘a movement towards power’, and ‘knowing which side your bread is buttered’.

How is it possible that many of the same individuals who steadfastly protected the most corrupt and venal president of our democracy could be on their feet in Parliament on Friday night roaring their approval, many with tears flowing down their cheeks? Is it all so cynical? Is it a matter of simple survival?

For people who don’t know ‘The Movement’ and who don’t fully understand the fierce loyalty and courage it took to face up to the brutality of apartheid, the loyalty of ANC cadres to their demonstrably crooked comrades is impossible to understand. Yengeni and Selebi were supported and cheered on even as they were found guilty and being transported to jail. Zuma was protected by one mob as another mob humiliated and destroyed Khwezi Kuzwayo in one of the most despicable public actions of the millennium. Under the Zuma presidency, the evidence of wrongdoing and disdain for the Constitution was so stark and incessant, and yet comrades couldn’t find the courage to do ‘the right thing’. Why?

Breaking ranks and standing up to an oppressive and racist system took immense courage: only a small minority of Black men and women ever actively fought against the apartheid regime (although it was a far bigger cohort than the tiny band of young white males who ever became Conscientious Objectors). Yet, those same courageous people seem to completely lack the courage to hold a comrade accountable. Even when the evidence is incontrovertible, even when the judge has pronounced guilt, even when there is general disgust from the general public, even when metros were being lost to the opposition in the local elections of 2016, comrades who fought the good fight against apartheid have continually been found wanting in fighting the good fight for truth and values in their own organization. And now, all of a sudden, it appears as if the better part of those same people is enabling them to finally do the right thing. Was it all about self-interest then, and is it the same now?

Susan Sontag, speaking at the presentation of the Oscar Romero Award to Yesh Gvul (“There Is a Limit”), the Israeli soldiers’ movement for selective refusal to serve in the occupied territories in 2003 spoke to the heart of the matter:

“We are all conscripts in one sense or another. For all of us, it is hard to break ranks, to incur the disapproval, the censure, the violence of an offended majority with a different idea of loyalty. …. To all out of step with one’s tribe; to step beyond one’s tribe into a world that is larger mentally but smaller numerically – if alienation or dissidence is not your habitual or gratifying posture, this is a complex, difficult process.

It is hard to defy the wisdom of the tribe: the wisdom that values the lives of members of the tribe above all others. It will always be unpopular – it will always be deemed unpatriotic – to say that the lives of the members of the other tribe are valuable as ones own.

It is easier to give to one’s allegiance to those we know, to those we see, to those with whom we are embedded, to those with whom we share – as we may – a community of fear.

… Fear binds people together. And fear disperses them. Courage inspires communities: the courage of an example – for courage is as contagious as fear. But courage, certain kinds of courage, can also isolate the brave.

The perennial destiny of principles: while everyone professes to have them, they are likely to be sacrificed when they become inconveniencing. Generally a moral principle is something that puts one at variance with accepted practice. And that variance has consequences, sometimes unpleasant consequences, as the community takes its revenge on those who challenge its contradictions – who want a society actually to uphold the principles it professes to defend.

The standard that a society should actually embody its own professed principles is actually a utopian one, in the sense that moral principles contradict the way things really are – and always are. How things really are – and always will be – is neither all evil nor all good but deficient, inconsistent, inferior. Principles invite us to do something about the morass of contradictions in which we function morally. Principles invite us to clean up our act, to become intolerant of moral laxity and compromise and cowardice and the turning away from what is upsetting: that secret gnawing of the heart that tells us that what we are doing is not right, and so counsels us that we’d be better off just not thinking about it. ”

There are those who ridicule the MPs of the ANC for getting rid of Zuma in February after having refused to do so on several previous occasions, most recently in August 2017. There are those who want to see the ANC pull itself asunder in order to remove every last ounce of loyalty and comradeship.

There are those who want to see President Ramaphosa embark on a wholesale clear out of Ministers and MPs with ties to the Zupta Patronage system. There are those who say Ramaphosa himself is unfit to be President as he sat next to Zuma for over five years and protected him on several occasions. There are those who jeered on Friday night as President Ramaphosa paid tribute to his immediate predecessor.

Those people have not fully considered immense risk that comes with breaking ranks. To be out in the cold in the worst place to be.

Many of those people – practically all of those people – are conscripts to a particular ‘tribe’ too.

Courage can exist just underneath the surface of compliance and fear. We are seeing that courage surface again.

Right, I’m off to buy the Sunday papers!