o6&15 - The Works of Man

Profiling as 'Culpable' Proof: The Student Left Behind

By Mr L Khuzwayo

"Can a school truly honour the Constitution if it abandons the very learners it’s meant to protect?"

As South Africans, we proudly proclaim the values of our progressive Constitution—dignity, freedom, equality, and education for all. But for some students, especially those who do not fit society’s favored mold, these rights remain promises on paper rather than lived realities.

Last year, during the third term—just before preliminary exams—I was removed from school. Not for misconduct, violence, or substance abuse. My drug tests were clean. My academic record was strong. But I was labeled “high-risk.” Not because of any specific incident, but because of what I might do. A decision made in whispers and speculation, not evidence.

The term “high-risk” became a verdict, not a protection. It justified pulling me from my learning environment—not because I broke the rules, but because someone feared I might.

“They didn’t ask who I was. They decided who I was.”

At the time, I was navigating deep personal trauma: my parents' divorce, domestic violence, and the instability of a broken household. Despite all this, I showed up. I attended every class, earned academic awards, and tried—tried to endure. But my pain wasn’t read as strength. It was mistaken for threat.

Eventually, I learned I’d been placed on a “High-Risk Boys” list—likely due to vulnerable conversations I’d had with SAN sisters and school counselors about my home life and emotional health. Instead of receiving support, I was investigated. Teachers made snide remarks about my background. My boarding house masters, who actually knew me, were left confused and uninformed. I was quietly and abruptly removed from school. No due process. No clear explanation.

I was told to return to the very home that the school was meant to protect me from. There, I faced isolation, verbal abuse, and was told by my own mother that I wasn’t her son. I had no access to my textbooks five days before my first paper in my favorite subject. My structure was shattered. My peace, gone. My passion for learning was met not with support, but with suspicion.

“You ask if I’m okay, as if that helps my progress. You question my sanity when I don’t speak, and when I hurt, you say I let others down. Why break my ambition?”

This experience didn’t just feel unfair. It was unconstitutional.

The South African Constitution, Chapter 2: The Bill of Rights, guarantees:

• That everyone is equal before the law and has the right to equal protection and benefit of the law.

• That everyone has inherent dignity and the right to have their dignity respected and protected.

• That everyone has the right to freedom and security of the person, including not being deprived of freedom arbitrarily or without just cause, and not to be treated in a cruel, inhuman, or degrading way.

• That everyone has the right to access information required for the exercise or protection of any rights.

  
  

Despite these protections, I was subjected to psychological harm, arbitrary exclusion, and a total lack of transparency. I was denied access to decision-makers and excluded without evidence. It was the presumption—the profile—that a boy from a broken home would eventually break.

Our legal system affirms that dignity is the bedrock of all human rights. In S v Makwanyane, the Constitutional Court reaffirmed this principle. In the Pillay case, the court upheld a student’s right to religious and cultural expression—even when it conflicted with school rules—because learner rights must come first. The Musjid case emphasized that access to education must not be denied to vulnerable learners; schools must enable growth, not obstruct it.

My experience is not isolated. It is part of a larger, quiet epidemic: institutional profiling in education. The sanctioned suspicion of students based on their socio-economic background, mental health history, or family situation.

“When fear speaks louder than facts, who listens to the Constitution?”“This wasn’t just unfair. It was unconstitutional.”

If schools are to shape futures, they cannot abandon those who need shaping most. I speak not only for myself but for every student who has been labeled before they were heard. Every learner who faced punishment before support. Every child who was seen as a problem before they were seen as a person.

We need accountability.

• Every school must critically review how it handles student well-being.

• Every counselor must remember that confidentiality is a covenant, not a report line.

• Every teacher must listen before they label.

• Every policy must serve constitutional justice, not fear-based prejudice.

  
  

If we claim to value justice, growth, and equity, we must treat every student as fully human—imperfect, complex, and worthy of support. Because this nation’s future depends not only on who we educate, but how we treat those who need it most.

References

Website Articles:

• Theirworld. (2023). South African schools exclude about 500,000 children with disabilities, says report. Retrieved from https://theirworld.org/news/south-african-schools-exclude-about-500-000-children-with-disabilities-says-report

Court cases:

• S v Makwanyane and Another 1995 (3) SA 391 (CC)

• MEC for Education, KwaZulu-Natal v Pillay 2008 ZACC 21

• Minister of Safety and Security v Xulu 2006 ZACC 24

• Governing Body of the Juma Musjid Primary School v Essay N.O. 2011 ZACC 13