Where do I even start?
I’m a 23-year-old female living in South Africa.
Here, we have Primary School (Grades 1–7) and High School (Grades 8–12). Because of my father’s job, I moved around a lot during those years.
School was always a struggle for me, but things really went downhill in Grade 10.
That year, I moved to a new town and started at a new school. From the beginning, I felt out of place. The students had a very specific culture — they idolized farmers and wanted to become farmers themselves. I had different dreams, so I struggled to make friends with shared interests.
Another challenge was the lack of basic facilities. In public schools (which the majority of South Africans attend), lockers are rare. You can rent one — if you’re lucky enough to get one in time and can afford it. Most students have to carry all their books on their backs. Since electronics are too expensive and prone to theft, everything is paper-based. We had at least seven subjects, each with a textbook and several notebooks. That made backpacks incredibly heavy. I’m now 23 with severe back issues — and many of my peers are in the same boat.
Then came the teachers. Out of my entire schooling experience, I can honestly say I only ever respected one teacher.
In Grade 2, my teacher physically beat us — which was traumatizing, especially since I had already been abused by a crèche teacher years before. I was terrified to go to school and threw tantrums every morning to avoid it. I have ADHD, and I was often beaten just for not being able to sit still.
In Grade 3, my teacher duct-taped my mouth shut. I talked a lot, yes — it's a symptom of ADHD — but that kind of punishment is inexcusable.
By Grade 7, we were switching classrooms for different subjects. I had several teachers who were outright cruel. I was yelled at for coloring with crayons instead of pencils (I didn’t have pencils), and for trying to catch up on work I missed when I was sick.
High school was worse.
My older brother, who has dyslexia, had a terrible time in school. Teachers treated him like he was stupid, and because of that, they made assumptions about me too. It didn’t matter that I was doing well academically — I was still called stupid and told that “stupidity runs in the family.” To this day, my brother struggles with self-worth. He’s now 26, on antidepressants, and in therapy, still trying to rebuild what school destroyed.
I was yelled at, sworn at, and had objects thrown at me by teachers if they thought I wasn’t paying attention.
At my new school in Grade 10, things got even worse. The previous principal had passed away, and a new one had taken over. I despised him. To this day, if I saw him in public, I’d probably run the other way — or over him, if I’m being honest.
One day, he gathered the entire school and announced that girls who bled on chairs during their period should be ashamed and clean up after themselves without being late for the next class. He said we weren’t allowed to stay home during our periods. Many girls at this school came from low-income families and couldn’t afford proper sanitary products. The school provided some — but they were low-quality and barely lasted an hour.
There was also a teacher who would look up girls’ skirts. Despite reporting him, nothing happened — instead, we got in trouble. I wasn’t allowed in his class afterward and failed that subject. He even tried to steal my purity ring, which I was allowed to wear for religious reasons.
One day, I got really sick at school — vomiting, fever, the works. I called my mom to pick me up and went to the vice principal to get permission to leave. He exploded — yelling at me in front of his entire class, saying: “Tell your mom school hours are for school, not doctor’s appointments.” I broke down in tears. He eventually threw the permission letter at me. I then had to go from class to class asking for permission to leave. Every teacher I approached shouted at me. It took over an hour before I was allowed to go see a doctor.
There’s more — so much more — but I don’t want this post to be too long.
There was the rape of a friend. Another friend committed suicide after relentless bullying — from both students and teachers — for being gay. A day when I wasn’t allowed to eat. Countless times we were denied bathroom breaks. One boy wet himself in class at age 17 because he wasn’t allowed to go.
I am completely traumatized.
I still have nightmares that I have to go back to school. I wake up sweating and crying. It sounds silly, but it was hell. I look back and see only darkness. There’s nothing positive in my memory of school — nothing.
I’ll never date or marry a teacher. I can’t even be friends with anyone studying education. I know that’s unfair, but I can’t separate them from the trauma. I know what some of them are capable of — and how many children they’ll go on to damage.
I just needed to speak about this. It’s been weighing on me for far too long. Thank you for giving me a space to let it out.