There were two back to back discussions on education on national TV yesterday evening. One was a recording of the Hillary Clinton Aamir Khan event at St Xavier’s Mumbai, and the other was a live debate with the new education minister and a handful of educationists, NGO reps, students and parents. I sat riveted for two hours as for the first time much of what I have been harping about was being debated. It was music to the ears. For the first time people were talking of school education and the need to give every child quality learning. Many new ideas were mooted. The grade system in preference to the incomprehensible and unjust percentile system, choice rather than marks to decide what stream a child would enter, introduction of vocational subjects and more.
Though the two debates were very different they touched on many common concerns one of them being quality of teachers. Both forums accepted that teaching had to be given more social acceptance. In today’s world you became a teacher because you were unable to become something else. Both forums felt that this was a skewed view and needed to be redressed and many possible solutions were mooted. One person even talked of setting up an Indian Education Service on the lines of the Indian Administrative Service, something I have been suggesting for a long time. It was wonderful to hear the idea mooted on national TV in front of decision makers!
The debates continued touching on many valid points aiming at ensuring that every child gets the opportunity to achieve his or her potential: inclusive education, caring teachers, quality education etc. Many questions were asked and answered and yet something was missing. Each time one touched on the subject of giving quality education to ALL children, answers remained vague and one could even sense an air of unease. You see only one half of India was represented, the other was absent. Solutions proffered to this disturbing questions seemed more like hand outs, the zeal to reform and redress was strangely absent. Once again one fell on the value of programmes like the SarvaShikshaAbhyan, or in other words a parallel system as one needed to respect the society of schools! To a question from a young girl on how to teach English to poor kids, as it was her ability to speak English that had got her to be present in this distinguished forum, the answer was to try and excel in one’s own language. It seemed as if English, the real even field leveller was only for the chosen few.
I would have liked at least one person to talk of the common neighborhood school.To me it would be the panacea to all the ills that plague our education system. A common school where children of both Indias could learn and grow together taught by the best talent available: a pipe dream maybe, but one that I will hold on to till I breathe my last.
Parkour is a discipline that appeared first in France, more similar to a martial art than to a sport, focused on moving from one point to another as smoothly, efficiently and as quickly as possible using the abilities of the human body. It is built on the philosophical premise that any obstacle, physical or mental, can be surpassed . This is the wikipedia defenition or what parkour is! I guess in every one’s mind it entails physically and mentally fit human beings. Not quite so. Our special children partook in parkours thanks to Marie and Tiphanie two occupational therapists from France. It really did not matter whether you could walk or not, hear or not, think or not this brand of parkour was for everyone.
A stick between two chairs, a ball on a bench, two hoola hoops, a bucket and some stools were all that was needed to create our very own set ofparkours. Everyone completed his or her parkour, even Manu who has not been wanting to move much since his terrible illness. It was truly touching to see children crawl under or jump over things, throw balls or simply reach out to an object. The outside world had suddenly entered the four walls of our special class. Things that till that very instant were normally denied to those like our special kids became part of their little universe. It was overwhelming and I could not suppress the tears of joy that flowed unabashedly. Every child surpassed his or her physical and mental ability and came out a winner. Thank you Marie and Tiphanie for this very special moment.
You can share some of these very special moments here.
With you, for you, always is the motto of the police of our city. Each time I see these words slapped on the side of a vehicle or on a larger than life poster I instinctively recoil. Nothing could be more untrue and the last encounter you would want to have is with the police. Somehow stepping into a police station is an experience one would not wish for anyone. It is the last place you will get help or justice.
It is with extreme sadness that I read about the young girl who had committed suicide because the police failed to act against those who regularly eve teased her. Instead of getting the justice she sought from the protectors of law, the family was subjected to harassment and intimidation. It was too much for the young girl who decided to end her life. The reason for which the police behaved in this manner was that the eve teasers belonged to some well connected political family! The police is not meant for the poor, the helpless, the downtrodden or simply the innocent.
It is sad that the police in our country still behaves as a force created by the coloniser to beat the colonised to submission. It is just that the colonisers have assumed a new avatar: that of the unscrupulous politician or the moneyed men. And no matter how many nice soundings mottoes they invent, the essence remains the same. Once you don the uniform you are given the liberty to act as you please.
We too have had our encounters with the police and each has been distasteful and vile. If we need to repair any of our centres, before we can lay the first brick the beat officer is at our door his palm extended for blood money and no matter how hard we try to appeal to his better side, it is all in vain: once you wear the uniform you lose your better side forever. If we try and go to the police station to seek some assistance, we are viewed with such suspicion that we beat a simple retreat. And how can I ever forget the case of a young woman taken in by the police because a piece of jewellery had disappeared from the house she worked in? The jewellery was found and the information given to the police station but the poor young woman was gang raped by the posse on duty. Th next day an officer did take the men to task and the woman was offered monetary compensation but that one night changed her forever and scarred her mind. She today suffers from deep psychoses.
The poor girl who committed suicide last week must have suffered extreme humiliation and known that her life too was scarred forever. She simply decided to take it away and she did. And no one could do anything to help her, specially not those who profess to be with you, for you, always!
It must seem as though you are surviving on promises wrote a friend I had sought support from. It seems like another message from up there. There seem to have been quite a few in the past days. Propitious or ominous only time will tell. I would rather believe the former.
Times are tough for all and yet promises abound each time you reach out to someone for help. Another friend asked candidly how we survived the first years hoping that maybe we could find some forgotten ideas. My mind wanders back to those days. It was easy then as I had an inheritance to dip in. But no inheritance is big enough to fulfill all the dreams you have and the pot of gold disappeared quicker than one would have thought. And then came the panhandling years that are still very much alive. Yes, pwhy has lived, thrived and survived on the generosity of those one reached out to. And even if you did not always get what you sought, words of encouragement and promises always abounded to ensure you did not give up. And then a miracle big or small came your way and you were out of the woods for some time at least.
Along the way and after many false starts we crafted our sustainability dream, planet why! We had hoped to see it happen by 2010 but recession made it take a back seat and the years of soliciting got a new lease of life. Have we really survived on promises? I guess so as promises uplift your sagging spirits and give you the strength to carry on. Promises of help, promises of support, promises of assistance. But I guess what makes us truly survive are the unvoiced and tacit promises I made to myself: that of giving Manu a home till he breathed his last; the promise to see Utpal conquer his morrows. There is a plethora of such promises I have made to myself each time a child walks into my life and my heart. And yes it is those promises that make me go on, even when times are dark and scary.
Don’t despair! Something will come along, and not just because it has to but because no one will let anything happen to the Project wrote a friend in a mail that dropped my way this morning. Did she sense that I was terribly troubled, or was this a message from the heaven’s above, I do not know. But the warm words felt like balm on a hurting heart! Wonder who the no one is; maybe my friend the God of Lesser beings who has always been there for us.
It is true that I am worried: our sponsor a child programme is just not taking off the way I would have liked it to and compassion seems to have gone AWOL in this times of recession. Each day we get our share of blows big and small and can only take them standing and not dare move. Many may wonder why one does not close shop or at least cut costs. The question is valid and deserves a proper answer. One cannot close shop because too many morrows depend on us: whether it is those of the little and bigger children in school who risk the danger of dropping out were we to shut our doors or the motley crew of special souls who can only claim their right to laugh or smile within the four walls of their project why class. In all we are talking of 800 morrows, no mean number you will agree. One cannot close shop because Manu and Anjali would be on the streets as they have no family but pwhy.
As for cutting costs believe you me we have tried our very best. Our classrooms are jam packed, our teaching staff is minimal and our administration the leanest possible. Moreover we cannot move out of the flat where Manu and Anjali live because no one is willing to rent their premises to house lost souls like them. The only thing we have managed to do is make maximum use of the space available and hence the rooms in the foster care house 4 classes during the day. So the only option available to us is to try and reinvent our ways of seeking help and hone our ability to make people see with their hearts. Something will come along is what I have to believe. So help me God!
There were two back to back discussions on education on national TV yesterday evening. One was a recording of the Hillary Clinton Aamir Khan event at St Xavier’s Mumbai, and the other was a live debate with the new education minister and a handful of educationists, NGO reps, students and parents. I sat riveted for two hours as for the first time much of what I have been harping about was being debated. It was music to the ears. For the first time people were talking of school education and the need to give every child quality learning. Many new ideas were mooted. The grade system in preference to the incomprehensible and unjust percentile system, choice rather than marks to decide what stream a child would enter, introduction of vocational subjects and more.
