Landmark Community School (LCS), the only high school in Glenmore sat on a big compound mostly covered in grass. A wire mesh fenced the compound and a security post stood at one end. The premises looked well maintained and suitable for academics. Huts, orchards and farmhouses surrounded the school though tens of metres away.
"Big school in a cold and windy environment." I voiced out my first impression as we moved through the security post.
Mr Roddak nodded. "It's always windy here. During winter, it blows cold. In summer, it blows hot. But we sometimes have cold days in summer. And at night, it's always cold no matter the season. You'll have to protect yourself from harsh weather."
The man took me around the school premises giving me a general idea of how it functioned. Three student buildings stood parallel to each other. The fourth, the Admin Block, was for the management staff. Mr Roddak, the vice-principal and other clerical staff had their offices there.
The last structure, the Staff Block, stood further down from other buildings. It had a large space in front for parking cars. All the buildings had paved cemented areas for walking.
The principal must have put a lot of energy into making the school suitable for studies. Maintaining such a compound in a village didn't come easy. I looked at the man and nodded twice. "I'm here to work, sir."
"We need your skills, Mr Mutetey. You come highly recommended from Dekkers. Please don't disappoint us." Though he looked composed, I sensed a tone of helplessness in his voice.
It was hard to tell if he was black, coloured or white. His light complexion suggested that he was of mixed race. And his pointed pencil-length nose gave him away as a Caucasian. But then, he spoke Xhosa with the accent of someone raised in Qunu. I gave up trying to ask where he originated. Such a question might even make him doubt my competence.
With the cursory survey around the school over, he led me to the vice-principal's office.
"Here is the man we've been expecting – Mister Mutetey. He'll be here for four weeks."
Her face glittered as she turned around to size me up.
"Oh, a giant in the school," she said. The two schoolgirls with her stretched their necks to catch a glimpse.
As we traded greetings, the vice-principal reminded me of my mother. She sounded like a caring woman who looked after everyone working with her.
"I'm happy to meet you, ma'am." I bowed slightly.
"Welcome, my son. I hope you'll enjoy your stay here."
Her smile was natural – the type a mother flashed to her kid when pleased. She was likely in her late fifties or early sixties. Her grey hair, dropping cheeks and plump stature indicated so.
"She will be the one to provide your groceries," the principal said.
"Okay, sir." I recalled having been told at Dekkers that the school would provide for my feeding and accommodation.
The vice-principal dug into her drawer and brought out a sheet of paper which she pointed at me. "Take this and go through."
I collected it with both hands and scanned through – a code-of-conduct document meant to guide temporary staff and consultants like me.
Amidst other directives, I found the third item on the list rather amusing:
"Teachers are forbidden to have romantic affairs with their students; whether or not the teacher teaches such student(s)."
I downplayed the instruction knowing that I didn't need to be reminded. Their students wouldn't even appeal to me, so, the question of dating them would not arise. Those standing around the woman even looked unappetizing.
The short walk with the principal from the Admin Block to the Staff Block was a dramatic one. Students swarmed behind us as if in a road-show. Some came out of their classes while others peeped through the windows.
I thought the principal would ask them to return to their classes. Then I recalled that it was still too early for lessons – they were all supposed to be on the assembly ground.
Pupils trudged out in their numbers to catch a glimpse of a tall man in their school premises. That I dwarfed their principal – the tallest man in the school before I showed up – made me more prominent. I must have been the tallest man they ever saw, judging by the manner they made gestures by raising hands above their heads.
Those directly behind us tried jumping several times to match up with me. Their actions reminded me of my days in high school when new intakes came asking if I ate beans three times in a day.
Right away, the students started mumbling all kinds of names:
"Mister Pezulu!"; "Umude Umude!"; "Gentle Giant!"; "Man Mountain"; "Moving Tree!"; "Touch the sky!"
Though the appellations across grades differed, the senior students were particularly vocal. When the noise became unbearable, the principal waved at them to move away. Yet, a few still had reasons to peep at us.
Cane in hand, a woman of average height and plump build went around urging the students to leave their classes.
"That's Mrs Avo, the Life Orientation teacher," the principal said, pointing at her.
"Okay." Being the first classroom teacher I came across, I gave her a studied look.
Her dress mode spoke volumes about her fashion sense. She wore an African-print top, a tight-fitting skirt, a sling-back pair of shoes, and a head-gear made from chiffon. She tied her head-gear in a way that would appeal to a taxi rank tout.
"I hope Yenzo won't dress like this when older. Never ever."
The manner she ran after the pupils belied her big size. Not even the tight-fitting skirt, nor the shoes, hindered her from pursuing the pupils.
As we walked past, I waved at her and flashed a courtesy smile. Being a new chap around, I didn't want to be called arrogant.
She blushed, waved back with both hands, and dropped the cane. "All those gestures for me?" I thought she must be friendly with a new staff.
She then picked the cane and her voice rang out louder than before. "Go to the assembly ground now!"
Many of the students grumbled as they strolled to the Admin Block where they gathered for the morning devotion.
"That witch is around again. She is never tired of beating us," a girl said, pointing at Mrs Avo. Soon after, a group of boys described her as the biggest slut they ever knew.
Their remarks didn't surprise me. Students generally said awful things about their teachers when irritated. Soon, they would still have things to say about me, methinks.
As we got into the staff room, the noise that greeted my walk-in was a bit unsettling.
"Heeeeeyyy!"
One would think I was a government official that came to commission a borehole water project. I had no idea what the principal had discussed with them previously, but the rousing chants and buzzes warmed my heart.
The current Mathematics teacher, Vivian, was introduced to me first. "Miss Vivian Riles currently takes the final year students Mathematics. I think you'll be working closely with her. She will stop taking them because you're here, but will continue after you have completed your task," Mr Roddak stated.
He then turned to her. "Here is Mr Mutetey, your new colleague, neh?"
Thinking of being warm to the lady stepping aside for me. I quickly crouched a little and stretched both hands. "Nice to meet you, Miss. I'm Jack Mutetey." Her name sounded outlandish, so I was eager to hear from her.
"Same here, Mister Mutetey," she replied in a high pitched voice that reminded me of someone I'd met before. I switched on my keen eyes, but couldn't recall any previous meeting. She returned the look with a smile.
Vivian didn't pronounce my name correctly. I wanted to tell her so right away, but since we'd be working closely together, there would be enough time for corrections later.
Unlike the foreign accent I thought she would use, our dear Maths teacher spoke in a typical Port-Elizabethan Xhosa accent.
Light skinned, neat and reddish nails, average height and pretty, Vivian's well-powdered face glowed under the fluorescent lights. The smoothness of her face loosened a button on my shirt. Working with her would be fun, I imagined.
Perhaps thinking in the same vein, she said: "I'm sure you have a lot of information to share with me concerning the new CAPS curriculum."
"Very well. We have a lot to discuss on it."
"I'm ready for it all."
Mr Roddak thought we would get along well. We had to, anyway.
He walked me to the other teachers' desks. Men and ladies of different ages and personalities shook hands with me. A few of them looked like retirees with their bespectacled faces and long dresses.
Younger ladies who had been in the school for three years or less were also there. They all looked attractive in their own way. The school had few male teachers; those that taught English Language, Physical Science and Life Science.
Seated in a group at the corner were interns posted there for their teaching practice. They'd been deployed to Landmark from the Walter Sisulu University.
The friendly teachers smiled, waved and teased me repeatedly. I felt happy to have been received in that manner. Perhaps, we would get along well.