I Did it, Mom! I Did it!

This Blog is based on the numerous emails from Grade 10’s after they returned from their ten day hike in the Cederberg in December this year.

Heading off: Destination Cedarberg

In her recently released book 'Good Morning, Mr Mandela ', Zelda La Grange wrote that President Mandela often told her that ' Your mind is always stronger than your body'. History has shown us that he, himself, certainly revealed that personal trait often enough in the trials and personal challenges of his own life!

Every boy who volunteered for the Grade Ten Challenge this year - and completed it - has returned with a full understanding of that sentiment expressed by Mandela.

'I wondered (before the camp) why you kept calling it the Grade Ten Challenge. Now I am in no doubt!'

'At the time, I thought that the Grade 8 and 9 camps were testing, but we had no idea what was coming this year!'

I am a firm believer in Rites of Passage for our boys as they advance on their journey to Manhood. Appropriately, these meaningful milestones of life should be celebrated with family and supportive adults who have been part of their journey to adulthood. Confirmation, Blazer ceremony, Valedictory, Prize Giving, Founders' Day, 21st, Wedding Day.  The  empathetic and reassuring presence of adults at these ceremonies is important as it sends the message to the young traveller on his personal journey that he is valued and respected.

The Grade Ten Challenge has a loftier goal as parents cannot, and indeed must not, be there.  The challenge is a learning experience which emphasizes choices and decision making which the individual boys have to make on their own.  It tests their resolve as well as their friendships.  As they look at the timeless mountains, questions of spirituality are raised. The bottom line is that the decisions made on this camp have to be made without the well-meaning guidance of parents.  For nearly all the boys, it would be the longest period of time which they have been away from their parents.  Homesickness would undoubtedly be a factor. In short, this experience was destined to be the most demanding challenge of their 16 year old lives.

Arrival

Over the ten days that these boys trekked over the Cederberg Mountains, they were forced to take charge of their own growth. The experiential learning that took place over this time has so far been  unmatched by any other activity in school.

The sheer physicality of this Sisyphean exercise was the central theme running through all the feedback from the boys. 'It tested me in ways that I have never been tested before,' was one insightful comment. Another boy was typically blunt in saying 'that it was the most difficult physical and mental thing I have ever done in my life.'

'When we walked,' commented another, 'I would completely zone-out and day dream so that I didn't notice the distance we were walking.'

Making the choice of giving up or not seemed to be a constant negative thought among the boys. In reading their comments, I was reminded of a description in Lewis Pugh's book ‘Achieving the Impossible’ of the tough times he went through in his quest to earn the famous sandy-coloured beret of a SAS soldier.

200 soldiers started the course of which the final challenge at the end of three years was known as ‘Battle Camp’. For two weeks, he had to battle his way through winter rain, snow, sleet and howling winds over impossibly difficult Welsh terrain. All the time, there were officers deliberately placed on the route, urging him to give up; telling him that it was too dangerous and that he was risking unnecessary injury; reminding him that their friends were at home not going through all this pain; and the most persuasive argument of all was that no-one would blame him for giving up as he had already gone through so much.

He knew only too well that if he were to take up this easy option, there would be no award of the sandy-coloured beret.  120 Wynberg Grade Tens might recognise his sentiments:  ‘We had to find reserves of physical and mental strengths we didn’t know we possessed’.

Out of 200 who started in his group, only three claimed the sandy-coloured beret.  The Wynberg boys who successfully finished the Challenge will receive a lapel badge which displays a simple ‘Ten’ against the outline of mountains.

It was very evident in the emails to me that our boys heard the same voices - except that their persuasive voices were in their own heads and sometimes in the comments of the boys around them.

Intuitively, most of the boys realized this. 'During the hike I had a lot of time to think, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. Thoughts reminding me of how much my feet, legs and back hurt and how long and hard the hike was. There were also thoughts reminding me of how comfortable my bed was at home, and how nice the food always was;  thoughts telling me that I couldn't go on , and that giving up is so easy.  There were also positive thoughts. The thought of making my school, parents and myself proud was something that motivated me and kept me going. The thought of overcoming this difficulty and not giving up gave me strength to keep going.  Above all, there was the thought of being able to say that I made it.’

It was not only their own personal tenacity which enabled the boys to complete the challenge, but virtually all of them acknowledged the positive role played by their friends.  For some, friends became as close as family.

'I certainly learnt who my true friends were - because in that tough environment you needed them.'

Another boy was appreciative of the bonding value of friends. 'When we were struggling, we motivated one another. I strongly believe that the hike would have been much harder if it hadn't been for our friends.'

Some also had to learnsome hard truths. ‘One of the boys in our group was not co-operating. He would eat the group’s food on the sly but not help cook dinner…..  I lost all respect for him.’

To balance it out there were some feel-good stories:  'On the second day, we were on the top of a mountain when we heard that one of our group had fallen back and was badly dehydrated.  Eight of the group immediately put down their bags and went back two kilometres to help him. For the remainder of the hike, we allowed him to set the pace and we followed behind.'

Judging by the comments, the highlight of the hike was the rest day. The boys were allowed to swim and to laze around. 'Proper' toilets were also a much appreciated feature of the day!  Letters from parents were handed out that day which evoked moving responses.

'I decided that however hard the hike was from then on, I was going to make my parents proud of me.'

Another boy really opened up.  'I felt much closer to my father after reading his letter.'

And then this one.  'We re-read our letters every day at Quiet Time. I know that some of us even shed a tear or two..'

Initially the daily Quiet Time was not taken seriously but after parental letters were read, it became much more meaningful. 'At first, Quiet Time was taken as a joke, but as the days ticked over, it became more important to us.'

This thought was echoed in this comment:  'My parents told me to appreciate the opportunity of being on the Challenge.  As I started thinking more about it, I realized that the same applied to my school and family.'

To notice one's surroundings is not a trait immediately associated with an adolescent boy. 'You cannot imagine the beauty of the mountains, the rock formations, the colours, the trees.... To see a sky so full of stars and to watch the shooting stars made us forget the cold....'

At the conclusion of the Challenge, I was waiting at school for the return of the boys on the busses. Their faces clearly showed the paradox of their experience. Pride was striving to trump the obvious weariness they felt. One boy alighted from the bus and abandoning all normal adolescent reserve,  rushed to hug his mother. He soon gave up the struggle to hold back his tears. 'I did it, Mom. I did it.'

Home again!

Surely there can be no greater justification for Grade Ten Challenge than this single comment? As parents and teachers we cannot give pride to our boys - they have to earn it themselves.  Clearly this young man took ownership of his own accomplishments.

I silently applauded that mother who had the courage to send her son away on this challenging and lengthy hike exposing him to discomfit and struggle.  I wonder if she will ever know how much she has enriched his life?  She has consciously given him one of the greatest gifts a parent can give her son - the opportunity to develop his own pride, his own confidence, his own self esteem.  This intoxicating discovery of inner strength will give him power for the rest of his life.

The school journey which began with her letting go of his hand on his first day of Junior School now took another giant leap forward in his quest to become a responsible adult.

At the same time we can all sympathise with the boy who told me that he found the experience rewarding 'but to be honest, I won't be walking up Lion's Head for a while!'

Following the Flag to Twickers

Crowds arriving at Twickenham

‘You do not have to worry about finding the ground in time, mate.  Just follow the crowd.’  So said the man at the Wimbledon ticket office when I enquired how I would find my way from Twickenham railway station to the stadium.

In retrospect, it was a really stupid question even for someone who was clearly a rookie Saffer miles   away from home.  When I alighted from the train, I found myself immediately swept along in a swarming crowd of white-shirted people.  Dotted here and there were the familiar green and gold jerseys and every now and again, we would catch one another’s eye and give a nod of recognition. Although it was a very mild day, I felt the need to put on my jacket as a cold breeze enveloped us, reminding everyone that it was officially winter in the UK.

I had hardly put on my jacket – a Wynberg branded one – when I heard a shout from across the street.  ‘Hey, Wynberg!’  A young man with a broad grin came over to me holding out his hand. ‘SACS!’  he said with pride.  I commiserated with him before discussing the chances of a Springbok victory in the match ahead.

Walkway at Twickenham

Grant Esterhuizen, organiser-in-chief of the London reunion dinner, had invited Ricky Farrant and me to the test match between England and South Africa at Twickenham.  We had been instructed to meet outside the Marriot Hotel entrance.  As predicted by the railway official at Wimbledon, I arrived well ahead of our meeting time and certainly experienced no trouble in finding our rendezvous point.  As I had time to kill, I wandered round the stadium admiring the statues and especially the walkway with its famous names etched in stone.  I spent some time reading the names which made me even more determined to ensure that a Walkway of Wynberg names comes to fruition in the 175th year of the school.  We aim to build it from the Memorial Gates above the bank of Hawthornden field around to the nets and will invite families to immortalise the names of generations from their family who have attended the school.

Walkway of Wynberg Names - artist's impression

In due course, Grant and his entourage arrived. Ricky was once again regaling the group about what my dog had allegedly done to his veldskoene all those years before, when he expressed an urgent need to quench his thirst. This, naturally enough, met with a chorus of approval.   We presented our tickets at the gate and made a beeline for one of the many beer stands dotted around the stadium.  When I saw that the beers were six pounds each, I immediately lost my thirst.  No matter how parched one was feeling, forking out a R100 for a beer would undoubtedly cause a vast amount of internal damage to the stomach linings.

No sooner had we finished the beers and I was wondering how I was going to reciprocate the round, when Grant (fortunately) announced that it was time to go up to the hospitality area.  The lift in that part of the stand was not working so we had to walk up what seemed like twenty floors – which resulted in Ricky Farrant’s thirst returning with a vengeance.  The hospitality suite had clearly anticipated this and we found tables groaning with food and drink.

No sooner had we started tucking in, than Grant announced that we had to go to the Lion Gate and have photos taken with the flag.  Luckily the lift was now working and we found ourselves sharing the space with Springbok, Francois Louw.  We gave the nod of South African recognition when he suddenly spotted the badge on my jacket.

‘Ah, Wynberg,’ he said.  ‘I was there for Grades One and Two.’  Before I could utter the usual chirp which I give in these circumstances:  ‘Well, imagine how good you could really have become if you had gone all the way through to matric!’, Grant jumped in and demanded a photograph.

Wynberg Links: chance meeting with Francois Louw

So another historic photo has been added to the journal of the 175 iteration of the Flag around the world.

At the Lion Gate

We found throngs of people around the Lion Gate as the arrival of the teams was expected.  ‘How will folk know we are here?’ I asked Grant.

‘Wave the flag,’ he suggested – and so I did.  The immediate response was the emergence of Brandon van der Westhuizen out of the crowd.  So the next historic photo was added to the journal.

We hung around for a while but we were never going to find anyone in that crowd and Ricky was making constant reminders that his thirst was returning. So back up to our hospitality area we went.

Half an hour before game, we went to our seats in order to enjoy the atmosphere of a stadium of 82 000 spectators.  It was right up there with two other great spectator experiences of my life – being at the stadium to watch the archer shoot the flaming arrow to light the Olympic flame at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics and the second was being part of the Welsh singing ‘Bread of Heaven’ and ‘Land of our Fathers’ at the opening of the Millennium Stadium before the Springbok match in 1999.

Until last Saturday, that match was an historic occasion in that it was the only time the Welsh had ever beaten South Africa in a rugby test match. Although it was only on television that I was experiencing the second Welsh victory on Saturday, I noted that the singing of the crowd was just as emotional and uplifting.

A packed and noisy Twickenham is hard to beat as a spectacle and sporting experience.  The announcer set the tone when he announced as South Africa ran on:  ‘Let’s welcome our friends from South Africa… The S-P-R-I-N-G-B-O-K-S!’

The crowd cheered politely. I couldn’t help wondering what the Newlands crowd would have done if the announcer had welcomed our friends from Pretoria so warmly - the B-u-l-l-s?  I was so struck by this, that I bought a scarf when I left the ground which was half Springbok and half English and had the date of the match on it. What chance is there of a half WP and half Bulls scarf being a commercial success at Newlands?  If any good can come out of the Phillip Hughes’ recent unfortunate death in a cricket match, it can be to remind us that sport is not war – and is just that, sport.   I thought the announcer at Twickenham had it right that day.

At anthem time, we sang Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika lustily.  ‘Not a bad effort,’ I remarked proudly to Grant when we had finished.  ‘Wait for this…,’ he said presciently.

I have never heard anything like it.  The Queen would have considered herself well and truly saved if she had heard the enthusiasm with which that Twickenham crowd belted out their national anthem.  It was a spine-chilling experience, evoking goose bumps. ‘That nearly turned me into a Pom,’ I announced to all and sundry around me at the conclusion of the singing.

Not quite – but it was a near run thing.

It was drizzling when the match started which resulted in a spectacular rainbow over the stadium.  ‘Well, that’s it then,’ said a spectator near me in his white jersey . ‘What an omen to start the game – a rainbow for the Rainbow Nation…’

This gloomy home town prediction was in the balance right up to the final whistle – by which stage the clouds had gone and it was a perfect evening – both from a weather and a result point of view.

Back in the office, with a depressed Ben Thompson (Wynberg's Director of Academics, our 'Englishman in the Cape')

I take away many many memories from my day at Twickenham – but there was one which I wish the Newlands crowd would adopt.  When Pat Lambie stepped up to take the first penalty, a notice flashed up on the screen:  ‘Respect the Kicker’ and the stadium went dead quiet.  Now THAT is how sport should be played!

I was due to fly back the following evening but spent the morning at the Tower of London admiring the ceramic poppies.  It was a moving experience knowing that every one of those 800 000+ poppies represented a young life snuffed out in its prime.  Every day, at sunset, during the time which the poppies were still in position, 150 names were read out - followed by the Last Post.  Relatives of those 150 names were invited to be part of the proceedings.  A moving and worthy tribute.

Twenty four hours later, after an uneventful flight, I was walking across the fields to my office.  The school was in exam mode but a few boys were playing a game of soccer.  I greeted them – but in the intensity of the game, they hardly noticed.

‘So did you lot behave while I was away?’ I said to them.

Only one boy paused momentarily.  ‘Oh, have you been away, Sir?’ he said before tearing off to take the pass.

Welcome Home.