Queen Of Curiosity - Teacher

  Recently, I taught my Year 9 class how to plot a simple linear equation , and it turned into one of those lessons where you could see the lightbulbs go on 💡. Our equation for the day was: 👉 y = 2x + 1 At first, a few learners struggled to remember that in coordinates we always plot x first, then y — as in (x : y) . We drilled that into memory with a quick chant: “X comes before Y — just like in the alphabet!” 😄 🧮 Step 1: Understanding the Equation We started by unpacking what the equation tells us. For every value of x , we can calculate a value for y . So, I gave them a simple table and we chose easy x-values like 0, 1, 2, 3, 4. I explained that x = 0 is extra special — it shows us the y-intercept , where the line crosses the y-axis. ⚙️ Step 2: Using the “Function Machine” To make it fun, we used a little function machine idea. You “feed” x into the machine, multiply it by 2, then add 1. Out pops your y-value! This visual really helps students who need to see h...

Lobola is often celebrated as a proud African tradition — but behind the ceremonies and family gatherings lies a tangled web of patriarchy, legal loopholes, and opportunism that affects both men and women. Lobola was originally a symbol of respect — a way to unite two families and recognise the value of the woman and the relationship. It was never meant to “buy” a wife. But if we’re honest, it hasn’t always worked perfectly, and it’s not only colonialism that caused problems. Before Colonialism: Power and Patriarchy Even before Europeans arrived, certain flaws existed within traditional systems. Some families demanded excessive lobola, turning it into a display of wealth rather than a gesture of unity. In some cases, men treated lobola as a form of ownership — believing that paying it entitled them to full control over their wives. Women often had little say, and cultural expectations made it hard for them to leave unfair or abusive marriages. These issues weren’t born out of colon...

  When I was in school, the height of online cool was saying “LOL” or maybe “BRB.” If you were on MXit or had a BlackBerry , you probably sent messages like grg (“gotta run, goodbye”) or used abbreviations like ur for “your” and u for “you.” Some of us even threw in TMI (“too much information”) when a friend overshared. And honestly — seeing my old 2009 Facebook posts pop up on “Memories” now makes me cringe a little. But that’s the beauty of it — every generation’s slang feels perfectly normal at the time and slightly embarrassing later. Fast forward to 2025, and the slang our learners use sounds like a completely different language. Words like rizz , sus , cap , and no cap bounce around the classroom and online chats. As teachers and parents, it can feel like decoding a secret code — but understanding it helps us connect better with our students and their world. Why Slang Matters Slang isn’t just about being trendy. It’s how young people build identity, belong to a gro...