A wise lady told me, as I was weighing the different schooling options, that no matter which school I went with, I will have to be prepared to work hard with my son. Last night, faced with playing catch up after reading through the info about the impending assessment, I was reminded of those words.
The teaching methodology here is vastly – read, totally – different to those employed in the West. P’s teachers in England did not believe in making the child feel inadequate or worse, inept. They repeatedly and calmly told their students to correct their ways. When the children played the fool, as children are wont to occasionally, they were admonished, yes, but not so strongly that the children’s feelings are hurt.
In India, sheer numbers make it impossible for teachers to try the softly, softly method. As I was waiting to enter the Principal’s office on Thursday, I had ample time to observe how teachers tackle the younger classes. A Class I teacher was heard yelling at someone beyond my field of vision – when that person moved into view, I was shocked to see a tiddler, just a little bit bigger than my two-year-old. Such a thing would be unthinkable abroad, the child would have burst into tears straightaway and the parents would have quickly met with the teacher to thrash out matters. But this 6 year old just quietly walked over to where his teacher was pointing and in two minutes, was raising merry hell from that quarter! In that moment, I felt quite sorry for the teacher, trying to contain 40-odd bundles of energy.
Having said that, I wish they had given P some leeway due to the facts that it was his first day and it is an entirely new methodology. You cannot expect a 9 year old to hit the ground running – but that is just what they expect. This, in my opinion, is too much.
P felt his first day was a success. It was, a personal one – he has faced up to his nervousness and conquered it. He walked into a strange classroom as a newcomer and walked out in the evening, feeling quite comfortable in the surroundings. He has made many new friends and despite not remembering a single name, is quite looking forward to meeting them on Monday. He has already made plans to play cricket with them at the next P.E session.
Delve a little deeper and you realise the priority of a sports-mad 9 year old is quite different to what the Indian schooling system expects. His maths teacher has scribbled across his notebook in bright red splashes “Untidy and incomplete work – meet me!” When he saw it, poor P gasped and his face crumpled. He, who was at the top table consistently through out his career at his old school in England, was now faced with not-so-positive remarks for the first time. He deflated like a pricked balloon in seconds. I was hopping mad – why couldn’t the teacher have cut him some slack? Didn’t she know it was his very first day there? Apparently no one, including his class teacher, spoke to him, asked him where he was from, checked if he was okay, is he coping – no extra consideration for a boy tat has been thrown into the deep end.
What is it about these red welts on a notebook that cut you off at the knees? Especially when they are less than laudatory? My son will face many more, I’m afraid, before he settles down into the system.
A long school day, filled with lesson after lesson of different topics, wandering around a vast and strange building had left him winded. He compared his new school to Hogwarts, at one point! When I asked him how his day was, he said ‘it was okay, but we weren’t let out even for 10 minutes!’ In England, schools make a point of letting the children run around in the playground for a few minutes – even if it is during lunch break – so that they can let off steam, instead of keeping them cooped up in lessons all day, like barn chickens. Whereas here, getting on with portions is key and while P’s timetable had 40 mins of Audio-Visual lessons that day, where he watched a movie on Ganesha, he was once again sitting down with his classmates. Little boys and girls need to be able to run free for a few minutes instead of just running from one lesson to another.
Another gripe is the fact that none of these schools have hats / caps included in their uniform. None of the children wear them, as a result. It is shocking to see children of all ages wandering around in the hot sun, with nothing to protect their tender heads.
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After doing some homework and reading with me, late last night, I think he has realised that he cannot coast on his earlier, easier way of doing things anymore. For one, he never had to sit down and write tests! For another, his indulgent teacher is back in Brentwood and he has to knuckle down, if he has to win over his new lot of teachers. A long struggle awaits my boy – I just hope the sheer drudgery doesn’t sap his energy and crush his spirit.
