It was Mark Twain who said, “I never let school, interfere with my education.” And that perhaps sums up the process of “schooling” that young minds have been subjected to over the years.

However, with all apologies to Mr. Twain, at least in pockets of urban and rural India, we can take pride in the fact that we have taken large strides forward in our quest to make the learning process more meaningful for the child. One can hear the sounds of laughter and pleasure from the classrooms at least in the foundation years of primary schooling. Credit for this should go to all stakeholders who view the child as the fulcrum: schools, teachers and parents. There is more courage and space to experiment, more acceptance of different learning approaches, and above all more willingness to share and learn and believe that the process of teaching is also a never ending journey of learning … each child and class and era gently but firmly nudges the practitioners to find new ways that make more meaning, so that education in schools is For life, From life.

The authors are partners in Edcraft, Hyderabad, a firm engaged in making teaching-learning materials, conducting workshops and providing consultancy services. They can be reached at edcraft94@gmail.com.

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Many parents today want to give time to their children but find it very difficult. They end up feeling guilty and frustrated. And when an opportunity does present itself, they do not know how to use it.

Quite a few schools are making a roaring business out of this situation. Parents are promised that their children will be kept engaged even after school hours. I am not finding fault with any school that offers to take care of the children until their parents are ready to come home. It is better that children go to such schools than stay alone at home with little to do, for an idle mind is the devil’s workshop! How difficult it is both for the parents and the children to tackle this situation!

There can be no argument about the fact that today the home is an extension of school. Homework, tuitions, project work, preparation for competitions, television and an occasional family function – these are things that comprise the content of a home.

Missing from the list are some old elements – grandparents, reading and … parents!

The devastating effect of all this is the inability to do anything but to place oneself (the parent and the student) at the feet of a school that creates that content of engagement. Safe and easy! Everyone does the same! So what can go wrong?

Plenty, if you ask me. It is only when our homes are treated as spaces of creative engagement that our children will lead a rich vibrant life. In this context we need to explore what makes a home a centre for meaningful engagement. Parents and families cannot walk away from areas of responsibility that are primarily theirs, not the school’s.

Parents have to recognise the need to provide facilities for children to engage themselves in. Like a study space, a collection of books, entertainment corner to house their toys and games, and, if possible, a computer with an internet connection. We should do whatever we can and whatever is within our means to make our homes, homes for the children and not extensions of their school.

Questions and the tone which the adult adopts while asking questions also play a very important role. The most crucial is the tone. Sometimes it is possible that children carry work home. Parents need to give the child the feeling that the onus of completing that work is on the child. If the parent shows over enthusiasm, the child may not own the process and it is then that the parent begins to nag. Any repetition of the same takes the joy of learning away from the child. It is important for the parent to give the child that space.

Parents are most effective when they extend support rather than direct help. For instance, they can share their own experiences or expose the child to new experiences. The opportunities are plenty.

It is not right to expect schools to discipline children. School and home must be partners in this regard. Discipline begins at home. The best models are parents. Schools can enforce discipline in an unemotional manner but the measures taken tend to be limited in scope and are mechanical. The discipline that the parent engages in encompasses forgiveness and compassion too, therefore, is wholistic.

Parents need to take the onus of transmitting culture. Children need to be taught how to respect work and those who work. Both boys and girls should be encouraged to participate in housekeeping activities, gardening, running errands and shopping. Children need to feel good about what they do. It is not uncommon in some families that children are rewarded for the work they do and provide one source for their kiddy banks.

Spiritual, social and emotional domains also form a part of home-grooming. Value systems are transmitted from parents to children. Are we equipped enough to live up to that expectation?

With so much at stake, is it not criminal to allow schools to walk into our precious lives in the guise of providers of knowledge and skills that the children would need for a bright future?

The author is Dean, Indus World School, Hyderabad. He can be reached at gjayaprakashrao@yahoo.com.

English is a West Germanic language that originated in England, and is the first language for most people in the Anglophone Caribbean, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Ireland, the United Kingdom, and the United States (sometimes referred to as the Anglosphere). It is used extensively as a second language and official language throughout the world.

A majority of children, in most government schools in India, belong to the economically weaker sections of the society and speaking in English is not something that comes easily to them. While our students understood the language, what was necessary was a little confidence and persistence on our part to help them speak the language as well.

The author is an English language teacher at the Corporation High School, Chennai.

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Communication skills, especially in English, are the need of the hour. Fluency in English is the magic key to a wide variety of job opportunities.

Keeping this in mind, in 2004, Linguaphone, an international English Learning Programme, was introduced in 10 schools of Chennai Corporation. The main objective was to develop English speaking skills among the less privileged children who have had little or no exposure to English thereby enhancing their employability.

The project involved training English language teachers to use the Linguaphone kit. The kit is easy to use. It comprises audio cassettes and books. The method followed is very simple:

• Listen, Read.
• Listen, Repeat.
• Listen, Understand and Speak.
• Listen and Write.

The author teaches in Chennai. She can be reached at nagarajan.vnaga@gmail.com.

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Most students in middle and high school opt for Sanskrit as a language option because it is easy to score full marks in it. This could be at the behest of friends or parents and others. It is a pity that Sanskrit should become merely a medium for marks and that the larger role it plays in our lives is completely sidelined.

In the age of the silicon chip it is not surprising that the top of mind image of Sanskrit among children is to do with marks. We cannot expect students to relate to it as the language of gods or hope to get them excited with esoteric adjectives like classical, divine and sacred language. Here are some startling facts that could excite your class:

The author is a freelance writer based in Hyderabad. She can be reached at sujata117@yahoo.co.uk.

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If your child were to skip college education entirely, it would be a matter of great concern to you. Nevertheless, if she did well in life, acquiring life skills, employment and happiness, it would tilt the scales for you, and be of great interest to all parents, and certainly all children. In Learning the Heart Way, 30 year old Samyuktha recounts her experience of opting out of formal college and yet embarking on a continuous programme of education and skills.

Born to unorthodox parents, her father gave up his bank job to farm in his native village, Samyuktha schooled at Kalakshetra in Chennai. Taking a year’s sabbatical after 12 years in school to explore one’s interest is not unheard of these days. (Free from School by Rahul Alvares talks about the author’s sabbatical to pursue his interest in reptiles. He later became a herpetologist.) Samyuktha’s initial idea was simply to take a year off. But during that time she came across The School (inspired by Jiddu Krishnamurthy’s teachings) in Chennai which had an open-ended three year programme for higher education. While the course envisaged a close engagement with Krishnamurthy’s philosophy, it also allowed for work in four to five different areas of interest and a formal distance education Bachelor’s degree. Samyuktha bravely opted for this.

Samyuktha started her education at The School with weaving, painting, dance, physics and history, and registered for a distance education course with IGNOU. At the same time, she made several short trips and undertook many apprenticeships – learning origami, a trip to the Narmada valley, working in a theatre production, a two month stint with a weaver family in Andhra Pradesh – all this during the three and a half years of the programme. A particularly touching part of the book is where Samyuktha describes how she had to grapple with her ego when she used to be introduced to people as doing B.Sc through correspondence. A correspondence course always gives people the idea that the person pursuing it is not good at studies, or that the person cannot spare time for formal education as he or she is working, or even that the person is too old to attend college. It was painful for Samyuktha to be put in any of these slots, and she recounts how she had to explain, everytime there was an introduction, the whole story of why she was doing a correspondence course to help her feel better.

A major part of the book deals with Samyuktha’s interest in weaving, and the chapter is appropriately titled, `A love story in colour.’ While weaving was only one of the subjects she chose in the first year, Samyuktha decided to take up weaving as her primary subject for the rest of the course. Why did she do so? She writes, “Weaving is a creative activity involving the mind as well as the hands. It satisfied my urge to work with people, in this case the weaving community. It opened up many other avenues for the future like creative design and marketing.” Samyuktha spent time weaving and travelling to places where weaving was a primary employment. She travelled to Saidapet in Chennai, Kanchipuram, and Benares. She also enrolled in a one-month training course in weaving, dyeing and block printing in Chennai. Her final stint during her three year programme was an exciting two months in Adilabad in Andhra Pradesh, where she stayed with a weaver family, set up a pit loom and wove fine cloth. In Samyuktha’s words…

`How can I describe how it felt when I gave three metres of cloth to my weaving master, Shankaran anna, back at Chennai? Or when my father got a kurta stitched with the material?…. How can I share in words the joy and pride felt when I wore an outfi t stitched from the cloth I had woven and heard people exclaim unbelievingly, ~What! You wove it yourself?’ My younger sister looked approvingly at me and said, `Now I can tell everyone that my sister is a weaver.’ (I wonder how many of us and our children would take pride at learning a craft?)

Samyuktha successfully completed her bachelor’s degree with a gold medal from IGNOU and went on to do textile design, and from what little I know of her, is happily married, with a baby to boot and successfully employed.

More important, she lists what she thinks her differently slanted learning gave her – a sense of independence and confidence, integration of higher education with her life and personality, and the necessity to develop a sense of direction, commitment and willingness to put one’s energy and soul in one’s work.

Is this a book of exotica alone? Quite naturally, any reader – parent or child, would wonder if this was possible for him/her. There are likely to be a number of pre-requisities – a sound school education, predisposition to hard work, initiative to start activity, and stamina to sustain it, supportive family, and also very important, continuous exposure to creative people and ideas. This is not to say that these are necessary preconditions; it is possible that without any or all of these conditions, children could do well if they decide to drop out of formal education.

“The purpose of writing this book is to show to readers – yes, there are options. You can choose how you want to pursue your higher education: how you can work systematically towards realising your dreams, in areas of your choice, if you want to. In the process, you will learn about yourself, what you like the most and fi nally, what really makes you happy. But this book is also to demonstrate to parents and students that there may be other interesting ways of going about the whole business of higher education. That we can dare to dream. Dare to think. Dare to be different.”

The book has a provocative foreword by Claude Alvarez – a foreword which supports Samyuktha and her venture wholeheartedly and critiques the education system ferociously. Attractive cartoons by the author herself dot the entire text; they not only serve to relieve reading, but give us a fair pictorial idea of Samyuktha literally dancing thaka-dheemi-thak, through all the pages of the book.

The reviewer works with the Hyderabad Book Trust, which publishes alternative low cost books in Telugu. She can be reached at gita.ramaswamy@gmail.com and hyderabadbooktrust@gmail.com.

How to order :
Other India Bookstore, Next to New Mapusa Clinic Feira Alta, Mapusa 403507, Goa.
Tel : 832-2263306/2263305
Email: admin@otherindiabookstore.com
Website: otherindiabookstore.com

At a very young age, school-going-children are taught that the capital of India is New Delhi. From the time they begin to wield the mighty pencil, the idea that every sentence is to begin with a capital letter is repeatedly dinned into their tiny heads by the teacher. We have a capital letter, and we also have a capital for a country or state. Children, who are generally very curious about things, seldom ask if there is a connection between the two ‘capitals’. Are they related? Do they come from the same source? If your common sense suggests they probably do, then you are right on the money.

The word ‘capital’ is derived from the Latin ‘caput’, meaning ‘head’. The ‘capital’ of a state or country is the ‘head’ of the state/country. In what way is New Delhi the ‘head’ of India? Well, it is the place where the head of the government is situated; in other words, it is where the seat of government is located. As to why the first letter of the first word of a sentence is invariably capitalised, the answer is fairly simple – the first letter is the ‘head’ of the sentence. As it comes right at the beginning of the sentence, it has to be capitalised.

We have seen so far that ‘capital’ can refer to the ‘head’ of a country or the ‘head’ of a sentence. But what about the ‘head’ or ‘caput’ on our shoulder? Are there words which can connect ‘capital’ to human heads as well? Yes, there are. Whenever someone commits a crime, our judicial system requires that he stand trial (this is assuming that the police manages to apprehend him!). The accused is not immediately thrown into jail for a lengthy period; he is presumed innocent till found guilty in a court of law. It is only after a lengthy trial, when he has heard both sides of the argument, that ‘his Honour’ decides the fate of the accused by giving his judgment. If the crime is heinous enough, the Judge might decide to give the felon the death penalty. Such punishments are usually called…. once again, you’re bang on… capital punishment.

Why is the death penalty often referred to as ‘capital punishment’? What does this form of punishment have anything to do with the ‘head’? In countries like India and Pakistan when a judge condemns an individual to die, he is usually hanged by his neck, and not by his head; in so-called ‘developed’ countries like the United States, the prisoner is either given a lethal injection or ‘fried’: tied to a chair and electrocuted! So where does the head come in? You must remember that capital punishment has been in existence for hundreds of years. In the old days, how were convicted felons put to death? Do you remember the line the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland chants as a mantra whenever someone does something wrong? Yes, it’s ‘Off with his head’. And that’s exactly what the term capital punishment meant in the bygone days – chopping off one’s ‘capital’ or head. It is from this act that you get the word ‘decapitate’: the prefix ‘de’ means ‘off’ and ‘caput’ as you know means ‘head’. So when you cut off someone’s head, you ‘decapitate’ him.

Just as we have lost sight of the fact that the word ‘capital’ means ‘head’, there are many other common words which we use in everyday contexts which mean ‘head’. Take for example, the word ‘chef’. Nowadays we use it to mean ‘cook’. But this word of French origin is related to the word ‘chief’ and both mean ‘head’. Five-star hotels boast of a ‘Head chef’; this title is quite absurd because the term literally means ‘head head’.

Cabbage is a word that we have encountered several times in this column. Germans are contemptuously referred to as ‘sauerkrauts’ (meaning ‘sour cabbage’) by the British. Do you have any idea what the word cabbage means? The word comes from the Old French ‘caboche’ which in turn comes from the Latin ‘caput’ meaning ‘head’. Therefore, when people talk about the ‘head of cabbage’, they are talking about the ‘head of a head’! Rather strange don’t you think?

Perhaps all this talk about capital is making your head spin! Common sense suggests that I bring to an end this private conversation, this little tete-tete. Do you know that the word ‘tete’ comes from the Old French ‘teste’ meaning ‘head? A tete-tete therefore is a ‘head to head’. Before you clobber me on my ‘caput’, I think I better stop. Capital idea, did you say?

S Upendran teaches at The English and Foreign Languages University, Hyderabad. He can be reached at supendran@gmail.com.

Elizabeth Motwatle, Dubai.

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To begin on a cliché is helpful sometimes. Personally, for me, it sets the ball rolling and the writing process begins. Hence, I start with one. Here goes then…

In a country long obsessed with Bollywood, cricket and religion, there is clearly a need for new obsessions. Since it takes time to invent new ones, we could identify them from the existing pet ideas that often go unnoticed.

Walking around in random neighbourhoods in Delhi and Hyderabad, the most common poster that catches your eye is “Speak fluent English within 15 days”. While some promise a longer guarantee period, others are replete with misspellings in the boldest font they can have. They are interestingly named as well. Some are perhaps named after the instructor, such as Venkat or Aakash, others believe in propagating faith systems by surrogacy, such as Radhaswamy or Shiv-Shambhu. There are those that sound like Irani cafes in Hyderabad and go by Moonlight or Rose-way and then there are others that use attributes associated with speaking English, like ‘Self-confidence’ centre, or ‘Impressive Words’ Institute. While these are only a handful of names that I’ve seen on posters and pamphlets, my personal favourite, where I’d have gone, had I the need, is Elizabeth. Using the Queen’s name for a place that purports to teach “Her English” is certainly a mark of authenticity and quality.

I also had the doubtful fortune of knowing some folks who attended one of these programs and insisted that I speak to them in English. My aunt, who usually talks to me in Punjabi, once unsettled me at the entrance of her house when she spoke in her thick-like-cream accent, “How doo you doo?” And I smiled apologetically to mask my “suddenly not doing so great” demeanour. She got confused and nervously uttered, “Thank God” and I followed suit. Understandably, she was trying to get as much practice as possible but how could she do it with me when all our lives we had only known each other’s rustic Punjabi selves?

Another cousin who had lived all his life in a small town in Uttar Pradesh picked up a book at random to learn everyday English phrases and learned by rote sections of it, just like he would for exams. When he visited us one summer with his newfangled anglicised self, he looked in the mirror before addressing me. Apparently, he had only learnt to exclaim in English, and without context. So when I told him that my best friend was coming over, he looked pensive and said “What a shame!” I smiled at this subtle disapproval and told him that he would be staying over. His response was “Bravo!” He beamed at me for appreciation and I blessed him with both hands.

Another unenlightened relative of mine who once travelled from Punjab to Delhi on a plane for the first time complained of jetlag. She bandied the word about as if that was the most natural bodily response to any air travel. The third time she did it, I was compelled to explain it to her that she wasn’t jetlagged but just a wee-bit excited. She grimaced and muttered something under her breath to the effect that I thought I knew too much. Though I did, to cheer her up, I had to tell her I was just pulling her leg. That certainly got her confused, as she looked down at her leg for signs of elongation!

And on several occasions I have encountered this obsession to speak in the English language or drop English words that sound impressive. One feels like a trophy offspring if one can speak fluent English if none else in the family do. I’ve been through many such performances at family get-togethers where speaking ‘good’ English or merely reading the newspaper to the rest of them was a hot item. That was then but now I refuse to be subjected to such abuse. And of course it’s the speech that matters. Understanding is mostly irrelevant. For good reason, too! If only the Queen herself was to witness one of these performances or attend the English speaking course at the Elizabeth Institute!

The author is a PhD student at the University of California at San Diego, USA. He can be reached at pawansinghh@gmail.com.

The Vikramshila school in Bigha (a small village, about 3 hours from Kolkata) was started in 1997 as an experiment in alternative curriculum, to see how village life (and livelihood) could be linked with school learning. In its decade long journey, the school has evolved into a community hub, a resource centre and a role model for the village, leading the way not only in education but in all aspects of village life. The school revived traditional methods of cleaning ponds, while bringing in modern methods of water testing; it led an active campaign to convince the farmer community to switch to organic farming by adopting a piece of land and proving the benefits of organic farming. One of its greatest achievements has been running a successful mobile library. The culture of reading and libraries had died down in Bhiga over the years, and it was important to revive it in view of the Internet revolution, now knocking at the doorstep of our villages.

Although there was a library in the Vikramshila school which was open to all, no one used it apart from the children of the school. Finally Arun Sain (Principal) and his team decided that if the community wasn’t coming to the library, then the library would have to go to them. This was the genesis of the Mobile Library in Bigha Village. They started out in August 2006 with the 5000 books which were already in the school library, and decided to build an enclosure attached to a motor cycle to ferry the books. One of the teachers would drive the motor cycle and also serve as the librarian. At this point we had many questions: Who would read the books? What kinds of books would they prefer? What route should the mobile library take in order to ensure maximum coverage? And how should they ensure that the existing libraries in the area would be revived as a result of renewed interest in reading? Finding answers to these questions was not simple, but this is how Arun da and his team went about it.

To start with they did a survey of the number of people with reading abilities and their occupations. Based on this they decided to further customise the choice of books made available in the library. Next, in order to maximise the opportunity of advocacy through the library, they decided to establish three carefully chosen hubs which would serve as parking stops for the mobile library. The first was a village which used to have a vibrant community library, now non-functional; the second was a village with a library in a high school, also non-functional; and the third was a village that had never had any kind of library. At each of these villages a vantage location, usually outside a high school, was identified as the stoppage point. The librarian would take the mobile library from Vikramshila school to each of these three parking stops once every week. He would start in the morning, making brief stops at the villages along the way, issuing and taking books back, and remain parked till evening at the parking stoppage. He would return in the evening via the same route, once again issuing and taking back books. There was also a local coordinator (a youth volunteer) appointed at each of these locations. The coordinator would know the local community and assist in the smooth functioning of the library.

The first pitfall came when they realised that on their way to the three designated parking stoppages, they would be covering 52 villages and four busy village markets. There was an overwhelming response from the most unexpected quarters, and an urgent need to increase the number of books. When the number of books was increased, the weight of the books was too much for the motor cycle and it had to be converted into a three wheeler. High school students were borrowing the predictable titles: novels, children’s books and reference books to assist in their studies. But the main reason for the success of the mobile library among the rest of the community was that everyone was able to find a book that was of immediate interest to them, even if they were not in the habit of reading for pleasure. Technical books on agriculture and pisciculture have been a huge hit with the farming community. Recipe books, books on mythology and herbal medicine are borrowed repeatedly by housewives. The most unexpected reading community emerged from the vendors at the village markets who borrow collections of short stories in the morning to tide them over the lean hours of the afternoon and return them in the evening when the mobile library returns to Bigha.

We know that the library has been a resounding success because Arun da is already talking about graduating from the three wheeler to a four wheeler to take the mobile library to villages. The large community library that was defunct for more than 10 years has also started showing signs of resurrection.

The author works for Wipro Applying Thought in Schools and was earlier with Vikramashila. She can be reached at kanupriya.jhunjhunwala@wipro.com.

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