Prize-Giving

Prize-giving is that time of year when school children are awarded for their hard work. They dress up in their best school uniform, sing a few songs, and receive awards for their achievements.

All I have ever asked is that my children do their best, so whether or not they attend prize-giving is, on the one hand, irrelevant. On the other hand, if your daughters both get acadamic colours and your one daughter is made head media prefect for the following year and your other daughter was the top academic achiever for the entire Grade 4 and your son read the most books in Grade 2, then yes, ek is baie trots op hulle.

But that is where my love for prize-giving ends. The rest becomes a cultural anthropologist's/sociologists dream-come-true.....

For starters the parents are crammed into a school hall so tightly that there is no hope of escaping in a quick or orderly fashion. You have less room than an economy class aeroplane seat, and there is no climate control. So it's hot. And you are inevitably sitting next to some beautiful but big African momma who is taking up her seat and 3/4 of yours. And did I mention that it's hot?

Next, all parents must listen to the headmaster give an address on some would-be interesting topic (I say would-be, because when it's hot and cramped, nothing is interesting except water slides and cooldrink). The first year we were here, we listened to a fascinating speech on the brain. Last year it was the pygmy elephants of Borneo (I kid you not). This year it was on Imperial measurements vs. the Metric System, spanners, and how the Chinese do twice as much homework as Americans.

Thirdly, when the thunderstorms finally come to cool the air, you can't hear anything anyway, the biscuits get soaking wet, and you are left wondering how to get to your car which is parked way out in the farthest corner of the rugby field.

However, because it is highly important to my children, we put on our best faces and behaviour and try to enjoy every moment (but if we keep scorecards on how many times the headmaster says, "I read another interesting fact about the fruit bats of Northern Mexico..." can you blame us?)

I leave you with this word of advice: should you ever find yourself in a similar position, it really helps if you pretend you're a cultural anthropologist and you're doing research for your doctoral thesis. Trust me.