A Spoken English Celebration!

10 weeks in Kadod passed by like the blink of an eye and I am now back in San Francisco. With the craziness of teaching our last few classes, saying goodbye to everyone in Kadod, and packing to come back to the US, I was unable to let you all know about the last few activities we completed with the kids. So here it is…

For our last two weeks in Kadod, our Spoken English students read, comprehended, memorized and performed an original play that Priya and I wrote, titled “The Rain Dance.” The students were extremely excited to read the play and comprehend what was going on in each of the scenes. After teaching some new vocabulary and holding role-playing activities with the play, the students completely understood what was going on in the play and started acting!

In “The Rain Dance,” a drought has caused villagers in the town of Chicago to , as their crops need water to grow. In need of rain, the villagers seek help from Shooting Star, the village leader. Shooting Star then suggests that the villagers seek aid from soldiers who have recently arrived in the village. Together, the villagers and soldiers decide they will hold a rain dance to call the rain. The idea is a success, and while everyone comes together in the rain dance, the rain falls and everyone celebrates!

The students really enjoyed acting out the play with each other and in front of their classmates! Some of the students played the roles of villagers, soldiers and a few even played the role of Shooting Star, the town leader. After the students had enough practice with the play, Priya and I decided to let them in on a little surprise: the students were going to perform the play for our Spoken English Celebration Program!

As it got closer and closer to the day of the program, the students got more and more excited! Some of them even decided to dress up to truly fit their roles.

Prahlad, Aamir and Nikhil ready to perform!

Vicky, dressed as a soldiers, accompanied by villagers Divyesh, Nikhil and Vivek

Our Spoken English Celebration and Final Program was attended by Principal Mahida and his family, Raj (President of NEF), Cat, Melissa, our entire Spoken English class, and many other students of KHS. To start off the program, Jinita, one of our 9^th standard students, sang an English song titled “My Heart is Beating.” Then, the students started the play! There were 5 scenes total in the play and each of the students in our Spoken English class was in 1-2 scenes.

All of the students memorized their lines and acted to the best of their abilities! We were so proud of each and everyone of our students. At the end of the play, the girls from our 9:00 am class also performed a Garba, (the rain dance in our play) that I choreographed and had been teaching them for the past 2 weeks.

The girls and I practicing the routine for their final performance!

The girls are such amazing, hardworking and motivated dancers!

They performed brilliantly even though we had limited practices that occurred right before our daily morning prayer and during the 2^nd half of our lunch break. After the rain dance occurred, all of the students stood up, cheering “The rain has come….The rain has come!!!!!!!” The rain had indeed come, and this ended the performance.

Afterwards, we congratulated the students for the brilliant work they have completed over the past 10 weeks. After the program ended, Priya and I realized that each of our students has grown so much in the past 10 weeks. All of the students have come so far and their hard work has truly paid off!

Now that I am back in the US, I have been reflecting on my experiences in Kadod, teaching at Kadod High School. I have realized that over the past 10 weeks, I’ve had some of the best experiences of my life. I am so lucky to have had this opportunity to develop strong relationships with such enthusiastic, thoughtful, and diligent students and I will truly miss each and every one of them. I feel like I have become a member of the Kadod High School community and I am sad that I will not be able to communicate with my students as often as I would like. However, I know that I will never forget what I have learned in Kadod and I will take what the students, teachers, and administration of KHS have taught me everywhere I go. Kadod has become a 2^nd home for me and I hope that I hope that I can continue to learn from everyone in Kadod in the future!

Thank you for reading our blog for the past few months and again, if you have any questions about Kadod High School, any of the work our students have been doing, or about Kadod, please let me or Priya know!

I hope you’ve enjoyed our Nanubhai 2008 Summer Blog!

Thanks,

Vanisha

A Remarkable Person

Dear dedicated reader,

It is unusual to meet a really remarkable person.

Last week while our director was visiting, I met one. His name is Nanubhai Nayek, and he is the namesake of the Foundation that I work for: the Nanubhai Education Foundation. As a former principal of Kadod High School, he managed the school from 1956 to 1983 and all of us had the pleasure of having tea with him.

His reputation preceded him. Having been a student during his time as principal, the driver who took us to see him at his house that afternoon expounded on his virtues for the entirety of the ride, much to our listening pleasure.

“In the time of Nanubhai,” he explained (in Gujarati translated by our director),“there was discipline in the school. No student would even think of cutting up in class – students would practically pee their pants if the principal came into a class. Teachers were afraid of being pulled into his office because they knew he’d yell at them fiercely – and he knew all the students’ names and knew all the students’ families. A family wouldn’t even think of questioning him if he hit a kid – they’d know their child had done something pretty bad. And boy, if he caught you – you were dead. There was discipline then. Once I had my shirt untucked and I still remember how he yelled at me even to this day. The board trusted him, but if they questioned a decision he made, he’d always keep a letter of resignation in his pocket and he’d take it out and say, “I’m the boss of this school and if you question my judgment, I resign!” Of course, they never took it.”

The driver went on. “He knew when kids cut school, too. If he found out someone was skipping school, he’d hop on his bicycle and go right down to the picture hall and pull those boys out of there by their ears and take them back to school. During the holidays, he’d go through all the teachers’ classrooms and test every bench and every desk and if he found anything missing, a nail, a wobbly leg, he’d make a note of it and harangue a teacher later for not fixing it. But,” the driver explained, “he was fair and generous too. For the poor students who could not afford uniforms, he’d have them come down to the school on Sundays and do grounds work for the school upkeep for a few hours and then pay them 100 rupees for the work so they could buy what they needed. But he never gave out charity – he believed the students should work hard.”

Our director echoed this, explaining that when he had approached Nanubhai with the idea of starting the Foundation a few years ago, Nanubhai had explained that the Foundation was not to give full scholarships. “Only give part scholarships, so the students still have to work some,” he explained.

The driver nodded and continued. “I have this book, The ‘Gita,” he held it up and looked back at us while simultaneously narrowly dodging an oncoming truck. “Every Saturday, Sir would read this to us and teach us how to live our lives.” He looked thoughtful. “I keep it to this day because of what he taught us then.”

My mind having been filled with these stories all the way from Kadod to Bardoli, I felt a little intimidated to meet the man behind them. As we pulled up to the gate of his large, pink house, we got out and I felt filled with a kind of apprehension.

A smiling, elderly gentleman appeared at the door of the house. “Come in!” He said enthusiastically with a wave of his hand. He disappeared into the house and we followed.

As we sat, I looked over at this man whose reputation had preceded him. He was tall and thin, but not in the way that most Indian men are thin – he had a very athletic look to him, despite being 84 years old. He was dressed in an impeccably neat white button down that had been carefully tucked into his long khaki pants. He had a stately look, though his eyes seemed far away.

He and our director chatted for a few moments in Gujarati. Our director introduced the four of us and explained that we had been doing work on behalf of the Foundation for the past two months at his high school.

Then he turned and addressed in the English of the intellectual class from the time of Raj. “How are you finding it here?” He asked us. We explained that we were happy and chatted about our work at the school. After a few moments, this topic was worn out and an awkward silence descended upon the room.

I broke it as I had a thought. “Sir,” I said, “Our director has told us that you were here to witness Gandhiji coming to Bardoli.”

He smiled. “Yes, I met him,” he said with some satisfaction. “You see,” he began, “in 1942, Gandhiji began the “Do or Die” and “Quit India” movements because he believed the Britishers should be out of India. And in that year, I took a year off from my college – I was in my second year of B.A., and I attended meetings and prayers and supported the movement.”
I was rapt. I waited for him to continue. “Hitler, the Germans, they were crooked,” he explained, “but then the British won and the next thing was for Free India.”

He continued to explain about Sardar Patel, and a number of the other Gujarati freedom fighters. He remembered when each came to the area and what they had done. After he finished, he fell silent and looked into the distance as though he were far away, transported to another time by telling these stories. To think, he had actually seen these people in the flesh!

“Sir,” our director encouraged, “tell them about your trip to the USA.”

He came back. “Well,” he began, “I have now over 100 students in the USA. And when I retired, there was a large function in 1983 to celebrate my retirement. My students in the USA wanted to do something for me, and so they arranged a trip for me.”

He told us about how the thing he was most impressed by in the US was its honesty. This surprised me. He illustrated his point by telling us the story of how he was once in a car with one of his former students and they were pulled over by a policeman for speeding. “In India,” he explained, “This would be resolved through a matter of a small bribe to the policeman and you’d be on your way. But here, it was not like this. When my student told him he was taking his former principal to the party, the policeman merely told him he could contest the ticket in court, if he so desired.” He leaned back, satisfied. “I was much impressed.”

When it was time for us to leave, I felt reluctant to go. I shook his hand and told him sincerely what a pleasure it was to meet him.

“Come back and visit,” he said in his stately English.

I intend to.

Best,
Cat

For example...

Dear dedicated reader,

Sejalben came to me the other day and asked when I was free.

My knee-jerk reaction was, “Why?” I mean, here, you never know.

“My 8th standard English class has told me that they want to meet you,” she said. “Can you come? When are you free?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought perhaps she had found a forgotten disc of her already four hour wedding video which we watched a week ago. To be fair, I enjoyed most of – er, one hour of it.

We compared schedules and settled on a period today when she had that class and I was free. “They simply want to ask you some questions,” she explained. “They have not met you and they want to meet you.” I said I’d be happy to do it.

When the appointed day arrived, I met Sejalben in the staff room and she motioned for me to follow her upstairs. The 8th and 9th grade all-girl classes are ferreted away in the same hidden part of the third floor of the school. Why they are isolated in this way I don’t know – perhaps it is related to the amount of giggling that they do.

As she entered the class, the students stood up in their customary manner and said, “Good afternoon, madam” in the same well-rehearsed, choral manner that they do when I enter my classes. She waited until she had reached the front of the room, put down her things and straightened before she said. “Good afternoon, you may sit,” in clear English. I stood in the corner, awkwardly clutching my teaching materials as I eyed the room, searching for a free space on one of the packed benches to sit.

She motioned that a few of the girls should move from the first row bench. I almost protested, but as the girls motioned for me to sit, I caved and took my place.

Sejalben turned to me, “Just wait five minutes, all right? I have to teach one of the modal verbs first, and then they will ask you some questions.”

I nodded and settled in to watch her teach. The opportunity for observation was welcome.

She began to write on the board, explaining as she went in a mix of Gujarati and English that the girls would be learning the verb “may”.

Having explained that “may” means there is some possibility, she started out with a few examples. “There are many clouds in the sky,” she wrote, “so it may rain.”

“Aishwarya has come in first place in the exam last year, so she may come in first again this year.”

“Hirel is sick, so she may not come to school.”

She turned to the girls, having explained these sentences thoroughly in Gujarati. “You understand?”

One of the girls sitting in the first bench asked her a question so quietly that I couldn’t catch it.

“That’s right,” Sejalben replied. “Another example would be, there are bombs in Surat, so there may be more explosions.”

I was taken aback. Who knew that 25 (defused) bombs found in the aftermath of the explosions in Ahmedabad in a city less than an hour away from here could be fodder for instructional example? Not me…

Best,
Cat

P.S. I'll be in Delhi for the next 5 days so the next update will be Wednesday, August 20th.

KIPP India

Dear dedicated reader,

A few days ago we visited more schools for the Foundation in the hopes of finding good sites for expansion. These visits were as equally interesting and thought provoking as the last, though for different reasons.

For the first, I offer you a profile of Mandvi High School: 4000 students, 1-12, ~100 teachers. Average class size: 115. In some of the classes that I observed at Mandvi, there were so many students in the class that the teacher had literally no room to move around and had to stand stationary next to the front row desks which were just the beginning of the rows and rows which had been crammed into the every room.

The principal of Mandvi couldn’t have been nicer but even he seemed overwhelmed by the capacity issue. “How to teach 115 when they are in a class?” He said with a shrug. “I don’t know.”

In each class I saw, some students were busily copying away what was on the board and attentively listening to their teacher while others, especially those in the back row, were asleep. Outside of the classrooms, some students sat, dozing during their physical education class, or simply talking to their friends in a field next to the school. When the principal took us on a tour of the grounds, I watched two boys in blue uniforms scramble quickly over a fence and run as they saw the principal coming. With so many students, how can one possibly keep track of them all?

Our visit here was short lived. It seemed like the kind of school that one could easily get lost in.

As we pulled up to the next school that we were to visit, Varkel, the principal of Kadod High School turned to us.
“This school,” he announced, “got one hundred percent in their exams last year.”

Kadod High School and Varkel School and all of the schools that I’ve mentioned in this blog so far, are schools whose populations are made up of at least 85% SCST students. SCST is a common abbreviation here in India meaning ‘scheduled castes and scheduled tribes’ or students for whom there are special provisions made in both the Indian constitution and the local state constitution. These special provisions can include extra resources or funding for schools that have these students, special spots reserved for these people in state administrative positions, and other types of reservations. It is, as I understand it, India’s way of addressing problems of not only representation but also histories of institutionalized inequality.

I was anxious to see what this school Varkel was doing so right with the education of these students that they were getting 100% in their exams.

After the perfunctory introductions, the principal of Varkel took us on a proud tour of the school. As directed by the Foundation, we told him that we were most interested in the English program and the computer labs, but our tour was comprehensive. As we made our way into the biology lab, he told us that the school was open 365 days of the year.

“We have school here everyday!” He announced to us, waiting for our reaction.

“Really?” I asked. “Everyday?”

“The teachers come here everyday, no days off. The students can come here anytime to study. They have school 7 days a week, half day on Sunday,” he explained.

I pondered his words and my mind flitted to my other would be life as a KIPP teacher, the one I might have been pursuing if I wasn’t here. If you are unfamiliar with the Knowledge is Power Program model, these are a network of charter schools in low-income, low-access areas in the US that have extended the school day from 7:45 am to 5 pm to increase the opportunity to impact student achievement and have half days on Saturday. Their teachers are given cell phones which they must have on until 9 o’clock at night so students can call for homework help. Could I have stumbled on KIPP India?

As we went through the school, it was clear that the principal wouldn’t be interested in an initiative like ours at his school, but I was captivated by what I saw around the school. It was 2000 students strong, similar to Kadod High School, but everywhere we went, I saw students studying, reading books. Even students with free periods who were sitting outside were reading.

The man who was assisting the principal in the school tour told me that the principal had won an award for best principal in Gujarat. “He’s also the president of the principal’s association in this area,” he confided to me. I eyed the man in question, who was in the middle of telling us about the schools’ award winning Kho-Kho team (an Indian sport that would be too complicated to explain here. Needless to say you won’t be watching them televised in Beijing).

“Three hundred of our five hundred 12th standard students go on to college,” he explained as we headed back to his office for tea after our tour. I was impressed, though saddened that this was an impressive statistic.

As we left the school, I couldn’t help thinking that I’d want to come back and observe this remarkable school more. These thoughts were shatteed by a single sentence from the principal of Kadod High School.

“What did you think of the school?” He asked.

“I was very impressed,” I said honestly.

“Yes, they are good, but not as good as Kadod High School,” he said thoughtfully. “You see, they cheat in their exams. They let their students use their books.”

I was taken aback. “Really?”

“I was appointed by the state to look into it two years ago,” he explained.

KIPP India? Perhaps not.

Best,
Cat

The Great Mangal

Dear dedicated reader,


“Madam!” An excited Hitesh drew my attention over to his bench during a writing assignment in 9D. “Are you going to see the magic show?” He asked me in Hindi, with a big smile.

“Yes,” I answered, enforcing my English only class policy. “Are you?” The students had to pay 10 rupees if they wanted to see the show, so not all the students could go.

“Yes!” He said, raising his eyebrows and wiggling his head with excitement. He could barely sit still.

As soon as I begin to think that life is going to get boring here, something new happens. With yoga class over, I was in need of some new entertainment. Lucky for me, Mangal the Great must have heard my cry.

After lunch, I walked over the school auditorium, a term I use loosely as it is really just a large, stone building with an empty inside and a wooden platform for a stage. There are some stacked plastic chairs in the back for teachers. Outside, I could see the mountains and mountains of discarded shoes that indicated the students were inside, already seated.

As I entered the hall, I was first impressed by the sheer number of students that were able to fit on the floor. The entire 8th, 9th, and 10th grades had been brought in and were sitting practically in each other’s laps on a large tarp which covered the floor of the hall. I scanned across the black haired heads on the boys’ side for Hitesh. Finally I saw him, seated in the second row of boys, chatting excitedly with the other boys while waiting for the multicolored curtain which had been erected and hung across to hide the staging area.

I took a seat in one of the cream colored plastic chairs provided for the secondary teachers in the back. I had no class until the last period of the day, so I settled in, feeling excited to watch the show.

The music started and the students’ began to clap in time: I laughed out loud. The song they were clapping to was the Michael Jackson hit, ‘Thriller’.

There was a sound of someone speaking Gujarati into an echo-ey microphone and suddenly the curtain was pulled to the side, revealing a mustachioed man with shoulder length hair striding on to the stage in a full-body glittering sequined cowboy suit, smoking a cigarette.

“NAMASKAR!” The man boomed into the microphone (WELCOME!) in between puffs of his cigarette. He followed this with a number of other greetings that I couldn’t understand. He took a long puff and then (to my relief) threw away his cigarette.

“Well, that was hardly appropriate,” I thought as I eyed the hundreds of impressionable young students in front of me.

Turning back to the stage, however, I saw to my confusion that he was still smoking. I watched as took a long, dramatic puff and then, threw away his cigarette yet again, only to have it reappear in his hand, lit, a moment later. This cycle continued five or six times and each time the cigarette’s reappearance was greeted with loud cheers from the students, particularly the boys. The hall filled with the stink of his cigarette, and that was when I realized he wasn’t the only one smoking. His set up crew, lounging on the side, was also smoking and expelling each puff towards the crowd of delighted children.

Having completed this trick, the Great Mangal uttered a few comic words that drew hearty laughs from the students and teachers as the music restarted. As the tune wafted through the air and the students started to clap again, I realized, with some delight, that this time it was Macarena.

Mangal and his merry crew continued to amaze through producing plastic flowers out of jars, boxes and other assorted containers, pulling a rabbit rather fiercely out a hat by the ears, throwing a dove around the stage (and one time missing and throwing it into the waiting arms of a boy in the first row by accident). His assistants were both young men and young women clad in messy jeans and t-shirts, all of whom could have used a little coaching on adequate stage presence.

The person from whom they should learn was one of their band itself: a chubby, mulleted man wearing a sleeveless black sequined top and loose green pants who took every possible opportunity to make his way to the front of the stage and thrust his pelvis in a robotic, strange imitation of dancing out at the audience. The language barrier kept me from enjoying the cheap jokes of most of the show, but at these moments I laughed along with the rest of the crowd.

Although his tricks were standard, the students seemed to enjoy the show very much. Afterwards, I asked Hitesh which was his favorite trick.

“Cigarette! Cigarette!” he shouted.

Lovely.

Best,
Cat

A Tour of the Technical

Last week, Principal Mahida took us on a tour of the Technical Wing at Kadod High School. Priya, Cat, Melissa and I were thoroughly impressed!

When going into the 8th, 9th and 10th standards, students at KHS can choose what elective to take. For instance, a student can choose to take technical classes (which includes technology, engineering and drawing classes), computers, home science or dairy science.

Kadod High School has 3 computer labs with approximately 70 computers total. There are 3 science labs: a biology lab, a physics lab, and a chemistry lab. There are also 4 engineering labs: mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, electric gadgets and engineering/drawing. There are 4 trades labs which include carpentry, blacksmith, welding and home science. There is also a “science park.” This is where students learn physics concepts through practical means like playing with swings to demonstrate the idea of momentum.

During our tour, we first visited the chemistry lab. Filled with tons of different chemical solutions, the chemistry lab looked similar to the chemistry lab I used in high school. The other teachers and I marveled at the selection of solutions the students made in class, which include lotions, soaps, ink and even toothpaste!

Here's a picture of the chemistry lab!

After visiting the chemistry lab, the Principal took us to the Biology lab! The Biology lab was filled with glass jars holding different plants and animals, like lizards and sea creatures, that the teacher had preserved.

The Biology lab even had a human skeleton!
Next, we visited the Technical Wing. Here students showed us some of the work they do.

Here a student is sawing a piece of metal to make a nice design.

In addition to working with metals, the students also have a wood shop.
Here are some of the items the students make in class.

It is truly amazing how precise each piece the students create is. The Principal was telling us that all the students in the class are masters of precision! The teachers really stress the importance of getting all measurements correct according to their instructions.

This precision is obvious in this wooden model of the Technical section of Kadod High School!

As I talked about earlier, some of the younger students are also taken to the “Science Park.” This is where students can play with different structures to learn about the practical side of physics.

Here’s a picture of Anilbhai demonstrating the concept of momentum with the swing structure.

Seeing the Park sure made me wish I had one of these when I was taking Physics!

The students of Kadod HS are even taught to weld and solder.

Here, a few of my 9th grade students practice their welding skills.

The Principal then took us into a lab where students were practicing AutoCad, designing different structures on the computer! In the lab, there were also many posters and light-up demonstrations teachers use to teach students about different structures of the brain, blood flow throughout the body, and how electric currents flow. The Human Biology major in me could not help but take pictures of the different tools students use to learn about the human body in Kadod! I was so impressed with the rigor of the science curriculum here!
To end our tour of the Technical Wing at Kadod HS, we went to visit the physics teacher in his Physics Lab. He explained to us some of the experiments 11th standard students do during the Practicals they have. In one lab, the teacher explained to us how students calculate the acceleration due to gravity based on the speed of a continuous pendulum. In another lab, students study the idea of resistance and current flow.

And with that mini-lesson in Physics, our tour of the labs ended. The depth through which students here in Kadod study different scientific concepts amazes me, especially when they have so many different subjects to take in school at one time. For instance, students who choose to enter the Science stream take math or biology, physics, chemistry, and biology, chemistry and physics Practicals (labs) all in the same year! I don’t know if I would’ve survived high school if I had to take all those classes together!

I hope you enjoyed the tour!

वनिशा Vanisha