We Are Tired of Teaching in Shacks

Namibia cannot allow temporary classrooms to become a permanent feature of the education system

“We are tired of teaching in shacks.”

That statement, made recently by teachers in the Omusati Region, should not be dismissed as another complaint about working conditions. It should be treated as an indictment of a country that has been independent for 36 years and still expects children and teachers to spend their school days in makeshift structures.

There is something profoundly wrong when a teacher has to stand in front of a class and worry about whether the classroom will survive the next strong wind.

There is something even more wrong when a child is expected to learn in those conditions.

And perhaps most disturbing of all is that we are beginning to become accustomed to it.

That is how societies reach dangerous points.

A temporary measure becomes semi-permanent. Semi-permanent becomes normal. Normal becomes accepted. And eventually, nobody remembers that it was ever supposed to be temporary.

Namibia must not allow that to happen.

A shack is not a classroom

There is nothing dignified about teaching children in a shack.

A proper school is not simply four walls and a roof. It is an environment in which a child is supposed to develop intellectually, socially and emotionally.

It requires adequate classrooms, sanitation, electricity, water, laboratories, libraries, administrative facilities, recreational space and, increasingly, access to digital technology.

Yet some Namibian learners are still attending schools where basic facilities are inadequate.

Teachers complain about makeshift classrooms, poor sanitation and a lack of facilities for practical subjects.

How can we seriously talk about preparing Namibia for a knowledge economy while some of our children are being educated in structures that would be considered unacceptable for storing agricultural equipment?

This is not merely an education problem.

It is a national dignity problem.

The inequality we cannot ignore

The irony is difficult to escape.

Namibia is a country of enormous natural resources.

We have uranium, diamonds, gold, copper, zinc, fisheries, livestock, tourism and significant renewable-energy potential.

We speak confidently about green hydrogen, oil and gas, logistics corridors, mining expansion and becoming a regional energy hub.

Yet somewhere in Namibia, a child is sitting in a shack trying to learn mathematics.

That contradiction should embarrass us.

We cannot build a sophisticated economy while tolerating a primitive education environment for some of our children.

And we must be particularly careful about where these conditions occur.

Poor rural communities should not be condemned to second-class educational infrastructure simply because they are far from Windhoek.

A child’s postcode must not determine the quality of the education environment they receive.

Government needs a deadline, not another promise

This is where government must move beyond expressions of concern.

We need a national programme to eliminate makeshift classrooms, with clearly defined targets, budgets and deadlines.

Not another five-year strategy that eventually becomes another document on a shelf.

Not another announcement that construction will begin.

Not another tender that gets delayed for years.

A programme.

A timetable.

A budget.

And public accountability.

Government should identify every school in Namibia currently using shacks, containers, tents or other inadequate temporary structures.

Then rank them according to urgency.

The most dangerous and overcrowded facilities should be addressed first.

The public should be told how many schools are affected.

How many classrooms are required.

How much each project will cost.

When construction will begin.

And, critically, when each project will be completed.

If a school cannot be built within the prescribed period, government should have to explain why.

This is what accountability looks like.

Let us build schools, not excuses

There will always be explanations.

Budget constraints.

Tender disputes.

Contractors.

Land.

Procurement regulations.

Capacity.

Weather.

Delays.

Some of these may be legitimate.

But after 36 years of independence, they cannot become permanent explanations for permanent problems.

Government must also rethink how it builds public infrastructure.

If the traditional procurement model is too slow, explore alternatives.

If local authorities lack capacity, strengthen them.

If contractors repeatedly fail, blacklist those that deserve to be blacklisted and enforce performance guarantees.

If the problem is financing, ring-fence the money.

If the problem is planning, plan properly.

What Namibia cannot afford is to continue having children educated in shacks while spending money elsewhere on projects of considerably less consequence.

This is about teachers too

The debate often focuses on learners.

It should.

But teachers deserve equal consideration.

We expect teachers to inspire children, maintain discipline, produce good academic results and prepare young people for the future.

Yet we sometimes give them inadequate classrooms, insufficient resources and poor working environments.

Then we wonder why morale suffers.

A teacher standing in a makeshift classroom is not simply an employee complaining about an inconvenient workplace.

That teacher is trying to perform one of the most important jobs in the country under conditions that undermine the dignity of the profession.

If we want better educational outcomes, we must create conditions in which teachers can teach.

The cost of doing nothing

There is another reason government should act urgently.

Temporary infrastructure has a psychological effect.

When children repeatedly see their schools falling apart, they absorb a message, whether consciously or unconsciously, about how much society values them.

A child attending a modern, well-equipped school receives a different message.

You matter.

Your education matters.

Your future matters.

The physical environment therefore becomes part of the educational experience itself.

And there is a danger that Namibia is slowly normalising inequality.

If a generation grows up believing that shacks are simply what poor children go to school in, we will have crossed a line that is much more difficult to reverse.

That is the point of no return we must avoid.

A national education infrastructure mission

The government should therefore establish a National School Infrastructure Recovery Programme, with one simple objective:

No Namibian learner should be taught in an inadequate temporary classroom beyond a clearly defined deadline.

The programme should publish an annual national scoreboard.

Schools requiring replacement.

Classrooms constructed.

Projects delayed.

Money spent.

Contractors appointed.

Projects completed.

And regions falling behind.

Let the public see the progress.

Let Parliament scrutinise it.

Let parents demand answers.

Let teachers hold government accountable.

And let government hold contractors accountable.

There is nothing radical about this.

It is basic governance.

The question of priorities

Every government tells citizens that education is a priority.

Perhaps it is time to test that statement against the physical reality of our schools.

If education is genuinely a priority, then building proper classrooms should be a priority.

If children are genuinely the future of Namibia, then investing in their learning environment should be a priority.

If teachers are genuinely valued, then giving them decent workplaces should be a priority.

We cannot continue celebrating Namibia’s progress while ignoring the places where that progress has failed to reach.

The teachers have spoken.

“We are tired of teaching in shacks.”

We should listen.

Not tomorrow.

Not when the next budget allows it.

Not when another political promise is made.

Now.

Because the real danger is not simply that children are currently learning in shacks.

The real danger is that we may become so accustomed to it that we stop seeing anything wrong with it.

That is how unacceptable conditions become normal.

And when a society begins to regard indignity as normal, it has already begun lowering its expectations of itself.

Namibia must not lower its expectations.

Every child deserves a proper school. Every teacher deserves a proper classroom. And government owes the nation a deadline by which that promise will become reality.

Anything less is simply another way of saying that some Namibian children can wait.

They have waited long enough.