
A hot plate for every child, every school day.
Mma Pule and Mma Selebogo run our feeding kitchen with two gas burners and decades of practice. Pap, morogo, beans, sometimes chicken. 490 plates, before the bell.
We are an ordinary No-Fee public primary school in the Dr Ruth S Mompati district. Nothing fancy — just patient teachers, full plates, real reading, and 490 children who deserve every careful morning we can give them.
Visit our school
Dumela. My name is Motlhabane Molaodiemang William, and for the better part of two decades I have had the privilege of walking this small dusty courtyard with the children of Manthestad. I want to tell you, plainly, what we believe about a child.
We believe a child is not a test score. A child is a small person who arrives at our gate carrying breakfast (or sometimes not), a worry from home, a question about the world, and a whole life ahead of them. Our work is to make the school day a place where she can put down the worry, eat a proper plate of food, ask her question out loud, and then get on with the patient business of learning to read, to count and to think clearly. I remember a little Grade 2 girl named Lerato who came to us last year having missed almost a year of school. By second term she was reading aloud to the Grade R class. That moment — her finger under the words, her teacher kneeling next to her — is the kind of victory we measure ourselves by.
We are a Quintile 2, No-Fee school. That number on a government list does not change what we owe each family. It only sharpens our commitment. We will keep our classrooms quiet enough to think in and warm enough to ask in. We will keep the NSNP kitchen running every school day so no child sits down to learn on an empty stomach. We will keep the gate open to parents, grandmothers, the SGB, the local SAPS officer who teaches our Grade 6 a road-safety lesson every term, and any neighbour who wants to come read a story aloud. The work of raising these 490 children is too important to be done by 18 educators alone, and we have never tried.
If you are a current parent: thank you for trusting us with your child. If you are a parent considering us: come and visit. The kettle is always on. The classrooms are open. We will tell you the truth about what we do well and what we are still working on.
A few honest figures, kept on the same page so you do not have to chase them through five paragraphs of marketing.
If you visit Manthe on a normal Tuesday, you will meet some of the people in these photos. These are not stock images — this is what an ordinary week looks like for us.

Mma Pule and Mma Selebogo run our feeding kitchen with two gas burners and decades of practice. Pap, morogo, beans, sometimes chicken. 490 plates, before the bell.

Our local kgosi, the church across the road, the Taung Heritage Trust and a small farm cooperative all show up in different ways — from donated readers to weekend transport for the Grade 6 excursion.

Twelve mothers and two fathers take turns helping our Foundation Phase team at arrival, lunch and dismissal. They pick up small children when small children fall down. They braid hair when hair has come loose.

Karabo, Class of 2009, now an engineer in Klerksdorp, comes back twice a term to talk to our Grade 6 about further study. He tells them about bursaries and how to write a CV. They ask him about salaries.

Our gate is open from 09:00 to 14:00 every Saturday. The library is staffed by a parent volunteer. The football field belongs to whoever brings a ball. The community helped build this place; the community uses it.
It takes a village — and our village is here.