4 posts tagged “government schools”

So with about ten days left in India, I'm beginning to reflect a little more on my experience thus far.  As always, my conclusions tie back to the value of education-- of cultivating a critical spirit, of introspection, and that in order to make change I have to be the change.  Everyone loves that quote by Gandhi (just look under 9/10 of your friends' Favorite Quotes on Facebook!)--"Be the change you wish to see in the world."  I think I may have misinterpreted it a bit in the past-- instead of just being the agent of change, I've found that I really have to be the subject of change.  Prescriptions for improvement of another society, system, community, or person-- they're all useless if you don't apply the same standards to your own life.  If you believe in equality, does equality mean that everyone in impoverished India, in the Third World should be living as we do in the First?  That, in fact, would be scary.  Imagine the effect if we all, as equals, were all guzzling through life with the same disregard for the environment.  We simply wouldn't have enough resources to begin talking about equality in American terms.  So maybe it's time to look a little more deeply on how my lifestyle, my choices, my vote affects others in our increasingly interconnected, globalized world.

I've had a few debates now in India over this whole concept of youth voluntarism, of global engagement.  Paolo Freire outlines in the Pedagogy of the Oppressed that in engaging with the oppressed, humanitarianism is useless--it's just another form of good intentions based on the "egotistic interests of the oppressors," based on the notion that we know best, as educated, middle-class Westerners.  Through our upbringings, we understand the world and can come and offer skills and ideas to bequeath upon the hapless.  I think many of my peers have definitely moved beyond this level of thought, and are posing more complex questions about capacity building, of "engaging" with communities, of enhancing the capabilities of stakeholders based on cultural sensitivity, etc.  But Freire keeps emphasizing that to help the oppressed, it has to come from within, that you have to become them.  Are we becoming "them" by coming to third world countries for two month stints, for eating local foods and living in homestays, for trudging through challenging environments and coming back to the comforts of our homes in the US and pat on the back for "saving the world"?  We may be learning a lot, we may carry these experiences with us for a lifetime, we may, ideally, apply what we have learned to actually change our own lifestyles at home afterwards, but are we really enabling the oppressed in a sustainable way?  What does sustainability really mean anyways?  I'd argue that sustainability comes from within, it means a lifelong commitment, it means critical dedication without expectations.  

But honestly, I can't really say one way or another what is "best."  I can definitely say that I get really irritated by all of these short-term volunteering stints-- a week in the Third World and coming back "changed."  Tell me what you really learn in a week.  Do such experiences really provoke you to think longer and harder about the politics, education, culture, and economics of these places?  Do they provoke you to look into how US foreign policy contributes to what you've seen?  Hopefully.  I recently read about a high-school girl in my hometown of Columbia, MO, and how she was applauded by the entire community, after visiting some impoverished country, for starting a shoe drive. Basically, she saw so many shoe-less people suffering in that country and her heart went out to them.  In an act of charity, she decided to collect shoes instead of presents for her 18th birthday.  Such philanthropy does not interest me, nor do I we should be applauding such people as if they are creating actual solutions for the world's problem of shoelessness.  Many NGOs here also apply similar band-aids to the cancers of this country, donating shoes and a yearly supply of bananas to primary schools.  Such quick fixes are based on good intentions and feel-good philanthropy, not thought.  And if you acknowledge it for what it is, that's completely fine.  But let's not get mixed up in thinking that good intentions are sustainable.  The road to hell, as we all say, is paved by good intentions.

Sometimes I wonder what we are actually doing at the government school level anyways.  I don't particularly think that my presence in these places is actually creating solutions tangible to them.  I'm definitely learning a lot about education, about the education system and about the nature of thoughtful interventions.  But I'm no radical, and I'm not organizing sit-ins or agitating for more teachers to the government bureaucrats.  And why should I?  I am not a direct stakeholder in this school--these are not my children.  But do I really have a stake in their success, in their development as thoughtful and productive human beings? 

In an ideal world, I wish I could find a way to radically alter the government primary schools into free institutions that create our world's problem-solvers, kids that see things they want to change in their own communities and become the agents for transforming their realities.  They wouldn't bat an eye at Americans or wealthy Indians coming in to volunteer at their school.  Through education, "capacity building" would take place at the roots.  But that's an ideal world, where there would be no complex hierarchies of oppressed and oppressors, no corrupt managers, and where the teaching profession would be valued so much throughout society that the smartest, most motivated, most dedicated people of the world would be teaching in primary schools.  

Can outsiders build this ideal world?  We may not be direct stakeholders, but indirectly, we want to see everyone--including the poorest and most exploited people in society--actively work to change the world in a positive way.  Whether its right or not, effective or not, who knows.  But we can choose to work in these environments, as outsiders, simply because we want to.  There can be no other 100% justifiable reason.  And I'm okay with that.  Youth engagement doesn't  "save the world," and if you are thinking in terms of "saving", we have more serious issues to address.  But we engage with the world because we want to, maybe not because we've found the best way, or because it may be a more "moral" choice.  It may be smarter to cut down on our lifestyles and advocate for a third party government in the US or protest every day outside of the White House for changing our farming and trade policies.  But maybe understanding life in the third world will lead us to question more about our own lives, and I've definitely found my experiences to be true to that.  And for that reason, it has all been worth it.  I've learned so much.  

Today I went to the school again, all day, stocked with ammunition-- English storybooks and art supplies.  More on that another time.  But here are some stories from the day...

After doing some English with the 4th grade class (they were teacher-less for this period), the teacher entered the class and began the ganitha (math) lesson.  The 4th grade classroom is half a schoolroom, divided with the 5th grade by a wooden partition that does not reach the ceiling.  I was sitting and watching the lesson-- the teacher copied a drawing from their textbook, and the students were supposed to follow, and write out numbers based on their thousands, hundredths, tens, and ones places.  For example:

7777 = 7000 + 700 + 70 + 7

About 15/45 of the students were actually participating in the lesson, shouting the answers and running to the teacher to have him check their notebooks.  I noticed that one kid sitting near my feet, Manikanta, was rubbing his eyes, textbook and notebook closed.  He was crying.  I asked him why, and he said it was because he didn't have a pencil.  I offered my pen, but he refused vehemently.  No kid would let him borrow their pencil.  I went to the HM's office and grabbed a tiny pencil lying around, and offered it to him.  Still, he refused.  I kept trying to console him, but he would not open his book and follow the lesson.  Nearly 10 more minutes went by, and the rest of the class had moved along.  Finally, I gave him a stern look and forced him to stand up with me, and we went through the problem together.  I kept shouting excitedly ("Verrryy Goooud" in my Indian accent) when he understood what I was asking him, and finally, he took my pen and started writing the answers to the questions.  

Later, at the end of the day, I was helping the HM fill out records to enroll the 8th graders for their SSLC (10th Standard) examinations in two years.  SSLC exams are a huge deal around here, and apparently you have to submit perfect records far in advance, with payments and photos for each child.  While we were working, a young mother came into the office and started talking to the HM about her son in the 5th Standard.  She was worried because he refuses to write, or read, or do any work in either school or at home.  She is illiterate and cannot help her son.  She has high aspirations for him.  At one point, as she was talking, she just started crying. I couldn't really make out why, but later Padmaja explained that it was because her husband drinks, and she is worried that her son will end up like him.

It's a curious phenomenon, really.  More frightening than curious, but in my second trip to India I can both feel and see myself becoming slowly desensitized to the chaos around me.  It becomes natural, and therefore one develops this skin built for protection against the sensory overload, the frustrating and backward politics, and the depravity of so much around you.

The first time I saw a beggar on the street was in Delhi, obviously, since that was the first place I went in India this time around.  There are definitely more on the streets of Delhi than in Bangalore.  I remember walking through a shopping complex with Tinku and Anand and there being an old woman on the granite footpath writing on the ground.  I was mid-sentence through something inane, I'm sure.  I couldn't speak for a moment, but we continued to walk, sidestepping the horrifying sight at our feet.  In these situations, you feel helpless.  Do you stare? Call for help? Continue walking?  

At some point, you have to ask yourself when countless people come up to you, begging for money with their dirty, sleepy children thrown over their shoulder, what can I really do to help this person?  Where is this money going? After a while, most people stop looking at them.  You stare in the opposite direction, suddenly both blind and deaf to their requests.  And I saw myself begin to do it too, desensitized.

Another example.  On Monday night, we all went for a movie.  For those of you unfamiliar with SUPERSTAR RAJNI (Rajnikanth), he is a fat, toupee-wearing, former traffic policeman now incredibly popular actor in South India.  His newest creation that we saw, "Sivaji: The Boss," is about how this multi-billionaire wants to build a hospital and school with his money, encounters some troubles, tries to marry a "traditional" Tamil girl, goes bankrupt, etc. etc.  Seemingly harmless plot, no? Well, the actual movie is impossible to give justice to.  The traditional Indian bride spends the entire movie either crying or screaming, and while she is chaste and wears a nice braid and sari during the "Reality" portions of the movie, in the "Dream Sequences" or song-and-dance numbers, she sports ridiculous wigs, scandalous outfits, gyrating around like a robot and sexual object for the old, skeezy Sivaji.  That's not a word, but I'm using it anyways.  The entire movie was awful.  Please YouTube it so I can stop trying to explain the inexplicable. 

So, back to the point-- after the movie, I was horrified.  Madhavi couldn't sleep for a while.  I couldn't get Sivaji's idiotic catchphrase ("Cool!") and theme song out of my head.  During the movie, I couldn't stand to watch most of the song sequences, so I took to watching the audience instead.  The theatre was packed full of your typical South Indian families, sitting happily as the movie blared at the highest possible volume and displayed these vulgar scenes of scantily-clad women in black leather juxtaposed with traditional scenes of a Tamil family feeding their guests and offering them tea and coffee.  Everyone seemed to have a pleasant, glazed-over look on their face.

But on Tuesday, I managed to go the entire day without thinking about it.  That's desensitization.

There is a difference between being desensitized to the harsher realities of this country and being ignorant to them.  I can no longer call myself ignorant, as a second visit has now begun with a better baseline of knowledge for what this place is all about, how it functions, and what its people are like.  I find it harder to go to the school now, and see its problems continue for another year.  But at the same time, seeing this thicker skin develop has only led more questions.  The problems I encounter in the school, for example, may seem even more difficult to deal with, even more rooted in systemic or cultural issues, but now its time to put a more informed finger on where the problems lie and find out more deeply why they exist.  

But I'll never understand Rajnikanth.  I almost don't want to, and I'm glad that I've developed some sort of tolerance strong enough to let me sleep peacefully at night after four hours of "Sivaji: THE BOSS."

After about a year, I returned to Chandranagar Government Primary School today.  Chandranagar is about 3 km. from where I live, in an urban slum.  Last year, there were 280 students for 7 grades and 7 teachers.  This year, there are 330 students, 8 grades, and 5 teachers? Maybe 6 1/2 (two have been recently appointed by another charity in the last few days).  The children and the teachers remembered me from last year, and it was slightly surreal seeing all of these kids, one year older, slightly bigger, slightly rowdier, and still not learning much.

The situation at Chandranagar has been quite rough in the past year-- 3 Asha appointed teachers gone, one new headmistress come and gone in a month, another long-standing government appointed teacher switched out to another school, and then 2 recent appointments by the government for a school desperately in need of teachers.  The 5th grade class is now taken underneath a tree.  But apparently the tree causes a lot of noise blowing with the heavy wind at times, and the teachers are afraid that branches will fall on the children!

I was greeted with the usual "Good Morning Miss!!" and smiling faces.  I was really surprised to have remembered the special handshake that they do at the end of the day.  After spending less than an hour there, I was already left in a classroom of 8th graders, alone, and instructed to do some English with them.  We read a story together, with the students competing for their chance to read, some struggling, some reading each word very well but having absolutely no clue what it meant.  At times I would stop and ask the class, in either English or broken Kannada, what "ocean," or "frightened," or "peak" meant, sometimes having to draw diagrams on the board.

One definite improvement from last year to this year has been the nutrition and midday meals situation.  Last year, the mid-day meals provided by the government came infrequently, if at all on time, and were typically tasteless and void of nutritional value.  The teachers always brought their own lunch.  This year, an NGO called Akshaya Patra, in conjunction with the Government of Karnataka (GOK), is feeding children through the kitchens of the ISKCON temple.  The GOK only pays one rupee (~2.5 cents) per head out of the cost to feed the children through Akshaya Patra's Midday Meals, the rest of the cost is covered by other donors.  Needless to say, these kids are now getting fed better tasting food in bigger quantities, and apparently even the teachers eat it as well.

These kids are absolutely adorable, of course, but it is very troubling to see just how much of the day was characterized by classrooms stuffed to capacity without teachers.  

When I asked about advocating for more government teacher appointments, the HM told me that government teachers are appointed from a group of teachers that are interested in transferring locations.  The teachers get the option of choosing which school they would like to work in, and often choose schools close to home.  So, when the HM requested 5 new teachers from the Block Education Officer, they only brought in 2 because only two chose to work in Chandranagar School.

One of the most troubling situations, apart from the lack of basic needs in the school-- adequate teachers and space-- is the 3rd grade (III Std.).  There are over 60 third standard students in one classroom, and according to the headmistress, maybe only 10 students are at the level they should be, the rest are quite far behind.  This is apparently due to the chaos of this past year.  When these children were in II Std, their teacher (Asha hired), left in October, and there was no new teacher for II Std. until the following February.  The reasons for leaving were probably for the right reasons (see last year's blog for a full account of the drama that went down), but these children suffered a lot without a consistent teacher for so long.  So many of these small children that used to be so quiet have now grown bigger and more rambunctious, certainly difficult to control all at once.  The headmistress had to tell them, as I sat to visit their classroom, "Behave so 'Miss' can go back to America and say what nice children there are here."  

The GOK has also instructed Chandranagar School to hold upper primary classes up to the 8th standard now, as last year only went until the 7th.  To keep students from dropping out, an entire grade was added, and one additional teacher certified to teach upper level science and math was appointed by the GOK.  When I was in the 8th grade class, I noticed that one of my favorite kids from last year, Selvakumar, was not in the classroom.  He was a little troublemaker sometimes, but a sweet kid that had hopes to start his own business named after the headmistress, "Padmaja Electrics."  I later asked the HM where he was.  Apparently, his father had suffered from some illness, and is no longer able to work.  Selvakumar has now left school and become the "working man."  Apparently he is working in an aluminum factory.  He is probably 13 years old.

I asked the HM what I could do for them, because apart from writing a follow-up report on the school, I'd like to spend my free time there doing whatever I can.  Part of me feels helpless, yet empowered to do something for a school lodged in a broken system.  The GOK has now established that English should be taught from the 1st grade, yet no one is currently teaching English to these children, with not enough teachers to go around.  The HM gave me the new 1 std. English workbook and a teacher's guide to go with it, and got very excited at the thought of me teaching English to the tiniest of the lot.  I'm not a teacher.  I don't know a thing about teaching.  But there is a need, so I'm reading the instructors guide and studying up.  I also need to learn some more basic Kannada, fast.  That would make things a lot easier.  But still, I can't help but feel troubled by it all-- this school needs serious changes, not quick fixes.

Doing research on how NGOs should be investing in government schools, and then acting as an NGO player in a government school itself creates an interesting work dynamic in India.  Many things are familiar from last year, and some of the same things I debated with myself then are just as relevant one year later.  In a city and a country with an 8% growth rate, construction and development occurring rapidly from one year to the next, the middle and upper classes growing wealthier by the minute, it is also startling to see just how much things have not changed, even deteriorated, in the government schools.