Let's stop dragging pupils from school to entertain politicians

With all the problems that seem to have descended on our education system like unseasonal flash floods, some good news at last: A political leader has spoken out against the penchant of his colleagues using school children to make them feel important during public functions in the name of entertainment. I doff my hat to Laikipia Governor Ndiritu Muriithi who early this week spoke out against the anachronistic habit which forces primary school pupils to waste a whole day waiting to sing for VIPs during political events.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with pupils entertaining guests, but they should only do so when they are not meant to be in class. In fact, singing and reciting verse, even staging whole plays, is all right as a co-curricular activity for it is also a learning experience. It can be fun. What is not funny is that the pupils will have spent days rehearsing to avoid missing their steps in front of “waheshimiwa”.

DUBIOUS GRATIFICATION

Who benefits when a school closes down for an entire day for the dubious gratification of a small clique comfortably perched on a dais?

It beats reason why the organisers of such events cannot hire professional entertainers. That way, they will not only create jobs, they will also allow the leaders to enjoy more mature entertainment, something they cannot expect from teams of scared tots singing off-key about broken latrines to the dissatisfaction of all but their parents and music teachers. True, Mr Muriithi could have used a little more finesse for, after all, there is a reason the pupils were putting their misery to music, but he need not have embarrassed the poor fellows. However, his critics deliberately missed the point he was making – that using children to drive such a message is absolutely wrong.

Indeed, it is time some traditions were done away with altogether. Back in the day, it used to be fashionable to line up pupils along the road when a Head of State was passing by to show their love for their leader. It was also a way for the community to show appreciation for their leader’s "peerless wisdom". Indeed, if a school master failed to close his institution for the duration and herd his charges to the roadside, chances of him losing his job were rather high. This sort of thing was very common during the reign of the first two presidents.

PUBLIC OBEISANCE

In fact, this nonsensical public obeisance went the whole gamut when traders and shopkeepers in small towns were expected to close their businesses until the President passed through. A story goes round of a day when a former freedom fighter in a small town in Kiambu wanted to get rid of dukawallahs of Asian descent so that he and his cronies could take over their businesses. On a day he knew Mzee Jomo Kenyatta would hold a function in Ruiru town, he told them the President had ordered them not to close shop. Later, he told the President that the traders had defied orders to close up. Only one trader survived in that town after that incident.

Though I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this anecdote, it clearly illustrates what idiosyncrasies were rampant in those days. However, here we are not concerned about the viciousness of business competition; we are concerned about politicians misusing pupils. True, children need to take a break now and then, but exposing them to the day-long antics of politicians, some of who cannot govern their tongues, should no longer be tolerated. Pupils belong in classrooms not in stadiums. There will be time enough for them to be recruited as hooligans during political campaigns when they drop out of school and cannot get jobs.

NATIONAL ANTHEM

A personal note: Back in 1964, our music teacher inexplicably thought I would make a great addition to our school choir. So we spent days on end practising to sing for Mzee Kenyatta. Well, it so happened that the day we went to do so at his Gatundu home was also the day the National Anthem was being selected from among many other candidates played by the Kenya Police Band. After five of those choices had been played, Mzee asked us which tune we preferred and, by acclamation, we chose the third. Thus our beloved National Anthem was born, and I always gloat to anyone who would listen that I was instrumental in picking it.

Mr Ngwiri is a consultant editor. [email protected]