the art of learning

the art of learning

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These little children sit on a wind swept terrace, on top of a tiny jhuggi overlooking a sea of slum dwellings in India’s capital city. A few days back they use to spend their times, roaming filthy lanes. Copy or slate in hand they wait for today’s lesson. A palpable energy pervades the little rooftop. A quick roll call proves that caste or creed is no bar here, the common denominator is learning!

Now what they will learn depends on the two teachers one a tribal the other a Muslim, an unlikely combination brought together by pwhy! They are willing to imbibe whatever they are taught.

A recent survey in a leading magazine proved that education in India, even if it is imparted in the best school, is way below international standards. What is excels in is learning by rote. Where it fails is in making connections. Hence though a child knows the composition of water, he/she is unable to give the composition of steam as he/she fails to make the link between the two. And the list is endless..

Today education is a number game with percentages rising to unbelievable heights and children cramming knowledge without often comprehending it let alone seeing its relevance in everyday life. I remember taking a class in the early days of pwhy where I asked class VII and VII children to identify one area where percentages played an important role. the lessons was about fractions. needless to say no one came with any answer and they were all surprised when I told them about sales whereby reduction were offered in percentages: 50% off, 20% saving etc.

I have always held that the Delors (UNESCO) four pillars of educations are essential to any sound education programme . They are:

Learning to know: Thinking abilities: such as problem-solving, critical thinking, decision-making, understanding consequences

Learning to be: Personal abilities: such as managing stress and feelings, self-awareness, self-confidence
Learning to live together: Social abilities: such as communication, negotiation, assertiveness, teamwork, empathy
Learning to do: Manual skills: practicing know-how required for work and tasks

Knowledge is useless unless the student has the ability to apply it to everyday situations. That is where our system fails us.

Unlike upmarket children, slum kids tend to start schooling at a much later stage. And unlike their rich counterparts, their living skills are tested at a very early stage. Tiny kids cross busy roads to shop for their mothers, or learn to fight for their rights when they are barely toddlers. I was surprised to see how a young five year old who had never learn arithmetic could account for the money given by his mother. I have seen little girls intuitively knowing what to do to soothe their howling sibling.

These children who by force majeure have to begin life using the 4 pillars we mention, quickly forget them as the enter the gates of a school. There the only thing they are judged is their ability to regurgitate the lesson.

Education is above all the ability to assimilate, analyze and then use the knowledge acquired and a self-respecting system should teach just that.

I will end this post by sharing a personal experience. When I sat for my French baccalaureate the history syllabus was the history from of the world from 1914 to present days. The final exam was summed up in one question: Had the allies lost the war, what in your opinion would have been the present economic scenario? (the year in question was 1967). Even if you had mugged up the entire book you would not have been able to answer the question if you did not have the ability to apply what you had learnt to a given reality. There was no right or wrong answer; you were judged by your ability to defend your opinion.

Therein lies the difference.

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pencil box to simply jometry

pencil box to simply jometry

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Where did I buy my last jometry quipped little Kiran.

For a few moments I was perplexed then it dawned on me: she was referring to a pencil box a.k.a. geometry box. I am sure many remember the rather ungainly tin box that we carried to school many years back and that included all geometry implements and pencils and rubbers.

Somewhere the word box got dropped and the tin box acquired many an avatar, but to school children from the other side of the divide the name jometry remained.

Jometry today for most slum kids is the word to define all shades and hues of the precious pencil box they carry to school.

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I sat on the edge of my bed and cried

Every morning before I set out for the day, I watch the news on TV. A old habit become more relevant since pwhy began as one has to be anchored in the reality that surrounds us.

One is prepared for news about violence and bombs. one is even resigned to the fact that a large chunk of the bulletin will be hogged by sports and bollywood. One even braces one’s self for some item on child abuse…

I switched on the idiot box expecting to see yesterday’s Baghdad blast and was in no way prepared for what was about to hit me. The lead news today was about three little girls age 6. 7 and 11 who were rescued from an upmarket home after 3 years of torture and abuse. They were domestic workers..

As one of the girls relived the belts and sticks, the chili in her eyes, and the camera zoomed on her scalded badly healed hands, I was unable to stop the tears that ran down my cheeks. Soon I found myself weeping uncontrollably: they were tears of anger, of rage, of extreme sadness, of helplessness, of shame..

The ordeal of the little girls did not stop there. Yes we have a child labour law, yes we have a juvenile justice act, we boast of child protection legalese, and are signatories to the UN convention for Children’s Rights but once rescued by an NGO the little girls spent 5 days in the cop station. The state of H does not have a juvenile home, the district magistrate – a woman – refused to comment, the law did not allow them to come to neighbouring Delhi. The perpetrators however were released on bail.

The disturbing image of the little girl with scalded hands refused to go away. 2 and half years of torment , that meant she was just 5 when the descent to hell began. And the tormentors,they lives in a city not a barren island, did no one see their plight or did everyone turn their face away as usual. And how could people treat children this way. Why did these tiny children have to work. Why are the laws made for children so full of gaping holes. How can we hope for redemption when we are not able to protect our children. Who gives us the right to shatter children’s dreams. The little scalded hands were not meant to scrub, and clean but to play with a doll, be held and caressed.

Questions that need answers but who will answer them..

God of Lesser beings are you listening


children will be children

children will be children

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I had to share this picture with you! This is a Kodak moment of the afternoon session of our bran new Govindpuri primary extension. the room we have is so tiny that it is only sufficient to lock up the meagre resources we have. Classes are held on the roof as the weather is clement these days.

Just two weeks back this centre did not exist, and most of these kids wandered on the streets. Today its is cracking at the seams and filled with laughter, joy and above all hope.

As soon as we were spotted by one of the kids, there was a scramble down the stairs to open the door and usher us into this new world. The children almost fell over each other as they ran down the tiny stairs and greeted us.

These children are just like yours and mine: eager, mischievous and eager to imbibe whatever we can teach them, still hungry for more. Their guileless trust makes us painfully aware of the responsibility that rests on our shoulders, as somehow we have become the ones who may just fulfil their wildest dreams.

But can we?


welcome back our world !

welcome back our world !

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Deepak has a brand new heart or rather has got his broken heart fixed. A huge T shaped scars is ample proof of that.

We first met Deepak almost 5 months ago when he was 8 months old. He needed heart surgery but his family did not have the required money. We raised it with the help of some kind hearts and believed that in a matter of days or at most weeks all would be well.

But that was not to be. What should have a simple walk to the OT turned out to be an obstacle race in today’s India. Deepak first encountered the hydra headed monster called reservation. any a times we was turned away from the portals of the most prestigious hospital in our country.

His tired body gave up once and his heart even stopped beating but his will to live was formidable. He came back to life again but the battle was not over, a huge abdominal abscess delayed the procedure again.

Last week D day finally dawned and his surgery was performed with success and soon he will be back to his little home and ready to start a new life.

I wonder what life has in store for him? His family is poor and illiterate. His father barely earns enough to keep the family going and his mom and granny stay at home. The one huge asset they have is a bond of love and are a close knit family.

We will slowly tiptoe out of his life, and then Deepak will be on his own. For a long time I wondered about his future as I more than anyone else know how much we have let our children down, particularly those who live on the other side of the impregnable yet invisible fence.

Deepak will soon find out that life is not fair, that the images he will see on TV – the family has one of course – are not meant for him. As he grows and starts going to school – the municipal one for sure – and may not become a drop out statistic if he is still around and come to pwhy. On the way he will see many ugly realities: reservation, caste division, child labour, unemployment and more. The god who heard his mom’s prayer and gave him this new hart will have to work overtime to protect and guide him at every step of life.

When I watch the news I am horrified to see that with obsessive regularity every day, some news we are ‘treated’ to some news item that confirms that life is not alright for our children. Yesterday we heard about the young slum kid who won a national yoga competition but found no one to sponsor his trip to the international meet in Italy.

Laws that protect children are broken with rare impunity, tender bodies are raped, used and abused. And we just emit of few chuckles of sympathy and carry on with our lives.

But each image robs me a few minutes of my sleep each night and urges me to do something more. I feel ashamed at my inability to reach out and help.

How can I say welcome back to our world Deepak..