A Brief Introduction to the Tanzanian Education System

Tanzanian education begins with 7 years of primary school in which Swahili is the medium of instruction for all subjects except English. Six years of secondary education follow, during which the medium of instruction is English for all classes except Swahili class. Testing conducted prior to entering secondary school and every 2 years thins the student population (those who fail do not continue) until the end of secondary school where another test is used to determine eligibility for 3+ years of tertiary (university) education.

The system can be summarized as 7:4:2:3+ meaning 7 years of primary school, 6 years of secondary school (further subdivided into 4 years of Ordinary level and 2 years of Advanced level) and 3+ years at university. Experience indicates that this summary has important exceptions, as would any similar attempt to describe the American education system in a single paragraph. For example, some private primary schools begin teaching students all classes in English only.

When the abrupt shift in language of instruction happens upon entry into public secondary school, many teachers continue to use judicious amounts of Swahili to smooth the transition. It is students in their first year of secondary education who I have been teaching for the past four weeks (this was meant to be a short term assignment in order to provide practical experience prior to site assignment) and I can report both hearing of a significant gap in language abilities from other current Peace Corps Volunteers, and seeing one at the school where I have taught. Within any class of 50 students, a diversity of ability and performance will exist, but such language barriers are especially distressing because in classes this size, more so than performing poorly, I see that some students simply do not understand basic instructions in English. Now, clearly these students have come to class, want to and are willing to learn. Difficulties such as these immediately call for personalized attention which I was frustratingly ill-able to provide during this brief, 4-week introduction to teaching. Perhaps more concerning, I may never be able to provide as much attention as I would want given the size of classes I may find at my site: one current volunteer I spoke with said he had over 300 students in his classes, all told.

At this point, one might shake one’s head and dismiss such a mid-education language transition as foolish. I think that to judge so quickly would be an unproductive mistake, and have instead felt compelled to study the history of the Tanzanian education system to understand and properly evaluate its current state, a task which I consider an ongoing responsibility of mine. I have found the brief history of, current statistics about, and future goals in Tanzanian education which follow to be illuminating.

Forty-one years ago, Tanzania was not so named, a colony of the British. Following independence in December 1961, Tanzania “inherited a system of education which was in many respects both inadequate and inappropriate.”*2* Racial and religious discrimination was quickly brought to an end. As there were 11,832 children in secondary schools, only 176 of whom had made it to the 6th and final year of secondary education, expansion of the system began in earnest. *2*

From such humble beginings, Tanzania has steadily increased secondary school enrollment, from 41,178 in 1970 to 67,292 in 1980 to 150,300 in 1990 to 261,896 in 2000 and 524,325 in 2005. Despite such steady gains, Tanzania has one of the lowest secondary education enrollment percentages in sub-saharan Africa. In the year 2000, only 5.3% of “mainland cohort age groups” (which I take to mean students of appropriate age) attended secondary education (anyone who knows the equivalent statistic from the US, I’d be grateful). Only about one in five students who entered primary school eventually continued at the secondary level. Most effected are low-income, rural students who are often unable to fund the private tutoring which many students rely on for secondary school admission.

Other Peace Corps Volunteers in Tanzania and myself are priveledged to play a small role in the development of the TZ education sysem at a time of rapid expansion. This expansion is to be driven by ambitious goals that will dramatically change the population structure of secondary education by 2010. As seen in the pyramids below, enrollment at secondary schools is to be pushed from 345,000 in 2003 to 2,500,000 in 2010.

*insert*

Many challenges confront this expansion. From 1995-2002 the failure rate among all Ordinary level secondary students in mathematics averaged 73%. In a system where educational improvement is vital, such rapid expansion will make even maintaining the current quality of education a challenge. This can only be done if a corresponding rise in the number of qualified teachers occurs to match the burgeoning student population. Another “key issue is that there are so few textbooks and so little laboratory equipment in schools. Public schools receive only the equivalent of $.61 per student per year to purchase printed references.”*1* The secondary school where I have completed my teacher training, for example, has over 1,700 students but no library, and issuing books for classes seems the exception rather than the rule.

In the face of these and other challenges, the people of Tanzania have taken an ambitious set of goals upon themselves. Peace Corps volunteers from the United States, myself included, feel priveledged to be a part of such a worthwhile cause. By serving as teachers at the secondary level, we immediately perform a much needed service, and are hopeful that many of our Tanzanian students will continue their education at teacher training colleges, themselves becoming teachers, helping to meet Tanzania’s need for trained, qualified professionals.

In the face of such challenges, armed with such lofty goals, it is important to situate Tanzania’s education system in its historical context and take its past successes as reason for optimism. The following quotation from Julius K. Nyerere, Tanzania’s first president, is as relevant today as when written about the Tanzanian education system in 1967:
“It is worth reminding ourselves that our present problems… are revealing themselves largely because of these successes.” *2*



In preparing this I have relied heavily on:
*1*Msuka, Proden, Makota. Peace Corps Tanzania Teacher’s Handbook. 2006.
Especially pages 7-13 and 190-204.
*2*Nyerere, J.K. “Education for Self Reliance.” 1967.
A highly recommended article for anyone interested in philosophy of education.

My students from Form 1 and myself. This was our second picture, and I instructed them to "make a funny face or be crazy."

Hopes

In my first entry, I wondered about whether I would be able to find people with whom I could connect: true friends. My familia has taken me in as one of their own: walking around town with me, explaining many facets of Tanzanian culture, giving me a bed, my own room no less, suffering through my attempts at Kiswahili, preparing meals for me, teaching me to prepare meals for myself in the future, unexpectedly driving me to school in the morning, and I could go on… Soooooo, though Morogorro may be extremely different from where I am sent to teach for 2 years (still have not yet been told, will be told in 2 weeks), it has filled me with optimism. Isolated as this as yet unknown location may be, I know that I already have made such friends, even familia, here in Tanzania.

Howl at the Moon

All is silent. Suddenly, a single cry pierces the night, and a contagion of echoes begins, as the sound spreads, surrounding my family compounded on all sides. I had never questioned what might cause dogs to howl at the moon. But the sight of these mangy creatures during the day, each rib standing out on a barrel shaped chest, skin pulled tight in hunger, makes all the more plausible my dada’s claim that it is not loneliness that causes these sharp-than-deep cries, which always and only have come in large numbers, but hunger.

Gongo Party

Passing through a darkened, dirt floored, dirt walled hallway, a metal door is open and a hanging sheet are thrown aside. WE enter another dirt framed enclosure. Two old women are dancing while smoking cigarettes. Against 2 walls of the 15x15 foot room, which curves up at the sides, and even more in the corners, giving me the feeling of standing on the lip of a mud bowl, sit 10 men each on 2 benches. Clothing in different stages of tatter but similarly dusty, the men do not visually separate from their surroundings with any immediacy. On this low-lying bench they look dejected, faces watching or glazed over in states of stupefaction. The eyeballs of one are oddly rolled upward in his skull as his mouth hangs open. An acquaintance comes forward, speaking with us excitedly. I look down and see his 2 children whom I have seen about the neighborhood on several occasions sitting in this very room where these men sit and these women dance. I am told gongo costs 250 shillingi (<25cents)>

View of Mikumi National Park at Sunset.