Making the leap to Berlin is the dream of many state politicians. Giorgina Kazungu hatred has fulfilled him. On Wednesday she was still a member of the state parliament for the SPD in Rhineland-Palatinate. Less than 24 hours later, on the morning of September 1st, she started her new job in the capital. However, Giorgina Kazungu-Haß not only left state politics behind when she moved to Berlin, but politics in general. Her new job: teacher. Her new job: a primary school in Berlin-Lichtenberg. Your new plenum: the 4c. She felt “like a fish in water” on the first day, says Kazungu-Haß on the phone. Because her new job is her old one.
A member of parliament who turns his back on politics to go back to school: That is of course a nice story in this late summer, when state after state begins the new school year under the sign of the worsening teacher shortage. Kazungu Hate knows that too. She is leaving “with a heavy heart a great faction and an extremely exciting political task,” she was quoted saying goodbye to the SPD. “But I have decided to support my fellow teachers again during this challenging time.”
That sounds suspicious again in its exhibited selflessness. But if you talk with Kazungu hatred, about politics, school and of course about changes, then it turns out: Sometimes society can simply need a person exactly where that person would like to be.
Giorgina Kazungu-Haß was born in Koblenz 44 years ago. The first half of her surname comes from Kenya, like her father, the second, like her husband, comes from Hassloch, which is easy to remember. She studied German and Protestant theology to become a secondary school teacher, worked as a teacher and deputy head of an integrated comprehensive school, had four sons and moved into the state parliament in Mainz for the SPD in 2016. After 15 years of school practice, she was mainly concerned with school politics, most recently as chairwoman of the education committee.
“I treat myself to living out my personality more.”
Whoever makes educational policy is often at schools, and the more noticeable the shortage of teachers there became, the more often Kazungu-Hass asked herself during her visits whether she shouldn’t stay there. Whether she shouldn’t go back to doing the job she learned and in which she is needed, instead of complaining in the state parliament that nobody wants to do it. And she asked herself that too: Wouldn’t she want to go back to work in a job where she could change something for the better, immediately, on the spot. “Self-efficacy” is how Kazungu hates it. And one can ask whether it says more about her or politics that she lacked this good feeling in parliament. “I treat myself,” she says, “to live out my personality more.”
And in Berlin. Which turns her double change – new job, new city – into a biographical-demographic win-win situation. Hardly anywhere else in Germany is the shortage of teachers as great as in Berlin, especially in elementary schools – and Kazungu-Haß just wanted to go to the capital. She and her family found an apartment after just four days, “we shouldn’t tell Berliners about that.”
As a mother, teacher and ex-politician, she now has “a 360-degree view” of the school system, says Kazungu-Haß. She experiences how the Corona crisis weighs on the children, “many have to learn to learn first”. She sees how the career changers who have to fill many gaps in Berlin in particular and do not enjoy the best reputation are getting involved. And she believes that she brings with her a greater understanding of education policy, which is often hard to come by. The legendary Berlin school chaos is likely to put this announcement to the test soon.