I think the Nanubhai mission and my personal mission, just struck me. We are going to start evaluating students’ spoken English skills, both within our spoken English classes and within typical textbook classes. These evaluations will measure the effectiveness of the program through evaluating the improvement in the student’s spoken English abilities from the beginning of the year to the end of the year. Having to do these evaluations I have been thinking about my students’ English abilities. I started analyzing my best and worst case scenario students and both types of students make me nervous for success.
The students are making my experience here so worthwhile. I think all of these students will make a lasting impact on my life. They are helpful, appreciating, and mostly hard working. Many students are working extremely hard to succeed and have such a desire to learn. Most of my behavior problems are due to overzealous students that cannot control their excitement to answer a question. Even the students that are silent shy, and quiet, which is most of the girls, still excite me. I see more and more students approaching me and speaking to me in simple English. Even these small steps I feel are vast improvements.
My new sense of mission here is about bridging the gap between the have and have nots. Children here have unlimited opportunities, if you have the money to pay for private schools and tuition classes. Students in the English medium schools have the ability to go to school and understand the material in their classes, since many subjects are taught in English at the college level. Because the classes are taught in English, students that have been going to a Gujarati medium school now have to learn their profession in a language they cannot speak and have difficulty understanding. Many of my students have huge professional goals and to reach this point it is essential that they have skills in English.
The classes are divided into A, B, and C. Each standard is divided this way. The A classes are the most talented students and the other classes are the lower functioning students. The students in the B and C classes are in a trap. They had been put in these classes after having attended government schools. Even if these students improve they are stuck in the lower class, which makes it difficult for them to be challenged.
Spoken English classes is not split up in this way. There are no A,B, and C students, but all students taking the same class with a similar goal in mind, to improve their English skills. There are no tuition payments; there is nothing to limit their ability in understanding and speaking in English.
The students that I have in my class are amazing because they have stuck it out and now are committed to the betterment of their skills. At first kids came just to satisfy their curiosity. Once they realized how difficult the class was they would slowly disappear. Now my students are of many different levels, but they still come and try their best to succeed. None of the students lack in confidence. Whether it is confidence in the one word that they struggle to produce or if it is the confidence to tackle the complicated structure of an entire paragraph.
If my students stay with the spoken English classes they are bound to make dramatic improvements in their spoken English ability. From the small number of students that will improve I think there will be a new benchmark for spoken English ability throughout the school.
Here is my new mission and I am going to fully work for these students. I want to be innovative in my approaches with them so that they will never grow bored of learning. I want to continually give them endless opportunities to gain the confidence and to get a handle on the language.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Factory and the Dairy
Being welcomed into homes is common place here. Even with HUGE language barriers. We point and laugh and eat the most delicious foods together. One man showed us his family pictures and treated us to delicious fresh mangoes and lychees. He even showed us his barn full of prized cows. Another man invited us for Mexican pizza, burritos, and the best ice cream I have ever eaten.
On Sunday afternoon we went on an outing to Mudhi, a nearby town to Bujipura. We were invited by one of the teachers from Mudhi High School. We went to the dairy where they make the most delightful milk. I thought I really loved strawberry milk, but the cardamom flavored milk is out of this world.
At the home of the teacher, her husband served us our milk on a tray and did everything in his power to make our stay enjoyable. He picked roses and fruits for us on several occasions throughout the afternoon.
We went into a factory that makes a rice product used in dishes here. It is rice that is made to be flattened. We walked into the factory and discovered that it is like being in a blizzard of dust. They also must heat the rice, so the temperature outside of 100 degrees now became about 130. We squint our eyes and cover our faces to prevent the dust from entering our lungs and from burning our eyes. The women factory workers live in this dust seven days a week, working 13 hour days. They don’t wear masks, they just simply put their sari or dupata over their hair and they let the dust fall on top of them. Their kids also sit in the dust watching and waiting for their moms to finish their shift. There were also men in this factory, but they did not seem to be taking part in the “dirty” jobs.
After witnessing the struggles of these workers we were off to see a rich guys mansion. This man keeps a second home in Mudhi complete with statues, 100s of mango trees, five watch dogs, at least three staff members, five cows, and beautiful porch swings, a staple in any Indian home. We sat in his lawn and were fed, by our gracious hosts, raw mango and guava slices with salt. This is quite delicious! We should not even eat mango in the states, it is a crime after eating mangoes here. They are INCREDIBLE.
At the end of the day we were sent back on our rickshaw, paid for by our hosts, to ponder the craziness of the weird dynamics of India. Poor and rich side by side is just simply common place.
So Much Stuff
From the very first day arriving in India I have felt the heaviness of my material self. It all started with persistent men trying to take the weight of four bags from me. As they hosted a fifty pound suit case onto their head and on top of the little, now weighed down, rickshaw. I thought of how ridiculous this looks. No family, just me carrying this infinite weight around all of India. I literally felt like passing out running with my bags to catch the train. Lyndi and I together had 8 bags, which weighed around fifty pounds each. We didn’t even know where we were going to find room for the bags on the train. We were desperately searching for someone to take our bags for a reasonable price, but the official bag carriers that Cat told us about were no where in sight. All of this stress was because of this unnecessary weight I decided that I needed to bring to India.
Now how ridiculous I feel coming into a country where everything is half the price. The tailors and farmers can live on a couple of dollars a day, where I am used to spending more on just a single cup of coffee.
I am now literally floating in stuff. My “necessary” items are under my bed around my bed and overflowing out of my two shelves. I load up my America size back pack for class and find that I am even carrying more and more outside of my bag. The teachers don’t have large classrooms full of materials and resources. They sit at the staff table with a drawer and one small locker space. The large oversize teachers’ bags of the states are laughable here. The teachers sit around the table laughing at the size of my bag as they hold up their own tiny purses that seems to meet all their needs. They pass around the container of markers I have with over fifty colors. They cannot understand why these items are necessary for my classes, as they carry pieces of chalk and a duster to class. The text books here are small and paperback, weighing a third as much as the huge hard cover text books of America. I can’t begin to imagine the price difference.
The bottom line is that I question the value of all the American crap set out to better student achievement. The school I left in North Carolina had less than half of the students passing end of grade level tests, where here the students are passing at much higher rates. These kids come to school with no shoes sometimes and you can be sure that they are not getting free breakfast or lunch from school. They simply come to school, maybe walking and hour to try and succeed. The students see the importance of success because they are able to see people struggling all around them.
Now how ridiculous I feel coming into a country where everything is half the price. The tailors and farmers can live on a couple of dollars a day, where I am used to spending more on just a single cup of coffee.
I am now literally floating in stuff. My “necessary” items are under my bed around my bed and overflowing out of my two shelves. I load up my America size back pack for class and find that I am even carrying more and more outside of my bag. The teachers don’t have large classrooms full of materials and resources. They sit at the staff table with a drawer and one small locker space. The large oversize teachers’ bags of the states are laughable here. The teachers sit around the table laughing at the size of my bag as they hold up their own tiny purses that seems to meet all their needs. They pass around the container of markers I have with over fifty colors. They cannot understand why these items are necessary for my classes, as they carry pieces of chalk and a duster to class. The text books here are small and paperback, weighing a third as much as the huge hard cover text books of America. I can’t begin to imagine the price difference.
The bottom line is that I question the value of all the American crap set out to better student achievement. The school I left in North Carolina had less than half of the students passing end of grade level tests, where here the students are passing at much higher rates. These kids come to school with no shoes sometimes and you can be sure that they are not getting free breakfast or lunch from school. They simply come to school, maybe walking and hour to try and succeed. The students see the importance of success because they are able to see people struggling all around them.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Aluna
“But Ma’am, why? It is for good husband!” The 12th standard girls are right; in retrospect, I should have at least tried to participate in the five-day fast for the Aluna festival. Every unmarried girl in the village followed the strict rules of the fast in hopes of finding a good husband: they ate grains only once a day, only sweets that are home-made, and no foods cooked with salt. In the villages of Gujarat, that really limits what you can eat— I was not sure if my body could handle it after being sick and not having eaten meat for the longest time in my life. But for a good husband, why not? It would have been an experience!
I did have the opportunity to observe and participate in many of the other events and activities that are part of Aluna’s festivities though. When I walked into Spoken English on Monday morning, the girls looked at my hands and exclaimed, “Ma’am! Why no mendhi?” All of them had freshly applied mendhi on their arms and hands—intricate and creative designs, as different for each girl as their fingerprints are. They were each wearing a colorful salwar kameez to celebrate Aluna (while the boys still had to wear uniforms). “Teacher, I do your mendhi!” So during the thirty minutes between Spoken English class and Morning Prayer, I had a crowd of girls around me drawing flowers and curlicues on my arms with impressive speed. Every girl here seems to have an innate talent of creating beautiful mendhi designs; they control the tube of henna with swiftness and no hesitation. Upon returning to the staff room after Morning Prayer, I was about to start correcting students’ notebooks when the other teachers intervened: “Don’t use your hands!” They joked that having henna on your hands is to have forced leisure time; one must guard her hands carefully and blot it with a mixture of sugar and lemon juice to make the mendhi dark. Supposedly, the darker the mendhi, the more your husband will love you!
During the week of Aluna, the school held some kind of competition for the students every day, including a 
mendhi competition, aarti competition, hair styling competition, and fashion competition. I was impressed in particular with the aarti competition—about sixty students, both boys and girls, participated, and everybody had such unique ideas! They had an hour and a half to finish making the aarti, or the decorated plate of lighted wicks used at a puja. As the competition began, everybody pulled out their own pans and colorful materials, from feathers and beads to flowers and nuts to mirrors and colored sand. Primary students and higher secondary students alike all worked intently, carefully placing each object and strategically laying out the design. As the students began to finish, they added the lamps and lit the wicks; soon the entire room was full of beautifully lit aarti plates. The smell of incense lingered in the air as the judges walked around the room, while curious students crowded the windows of the prayer hall to see who might win the competition this year.
During the week of Aluna, I discovered that my students had talents that I never knew about. It was another big step in getting to know them!
More on Aluna next time, so look out for more updates!
Namaste and thank you for reading,
Milly
Balancing the "Star-Struck" and the "So Over It."
Hello readers,
As time passes, it’s interesting to have our days divided into the two different worlds of the English and Gujarati mediums… each day brings its own mini culture-shock. In the Gujarati medium I have the sense that many of the students remain a bit “star-struck.” I’ve glimpsed giddy girls clapping their hands in delight that I’m coming to their classroom before rushing back to their seats to greet me with an enthusiastic “GOOD MORNING, MA’AM! HOW ARE YOU?” as I walk in, after which I can’t hide my amused grin.
Because of the lower English comprehension level in the Gujarati medium, my teaching takes on a more theatrical quality, and I’m increasingly prone to gesture, act out, and make voices for different characters—I feel like it’s my job to make the stories come alive for the students, so that they’re really focused on understanding what happens next. One of the biggest tendencies I’ve had to fight is the trap of speaking too quickly. Even when I feel like I’m speaking slower than normal, this is often too fast for my classes, especially the younger standards, who are dealing with my foreign accent and pronunciation on top of everything else. In the absence of slide-show technology or a printer (though Pamela and I are planning on investing in one of those soon!) I’ve started to find success in drawing pictures on the board, gesturing wildly, and finally (it seems) finding the right speaking tempo. The amount of Gujarati translation the kids end up with varies depending on which co-teacher I’m working with during the day, and some teachers are eager to jump in and over-explain things, while others sit back and watch me do my thing. I felt highly rewarded yesterday, however, when Vijay Sir, one of my more silent co-teachers, watched my full lesson and actively chose not to provide any Gujarati translations. When the kids seemed a bit confused, he merely backed me up and said, “Listen carefully to Madam! You will understand her explanations.” I repeated myself, while speaking slowly, drawing, and acting, and the kids were able to follow! The story I was explaining was “The Black Bull,” which is a Jataka Tale that tells of one of the Buddha’s previous lifetimes before he became the Buddha, when he was born as a black bull. During the first paragraph the kids encounter the line, “In these lives, he is known as the Bodhisattva, or the Buddha-to-be.” To explain “Buddha-to-be” I asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, and wrote those things on the board. We ended up with an “engineer-to-be,” a “doctor-to-be,” and a “policeman-to-be,” as well as many more enthusiastic hands that there weren’t time for.
Often-times, I’m not sure if the silences that follow my comprehension questions signify confusion regarding how to answer (the students must wonder, Should we use English or Gujarati? What is the proper way to answer the question? Can I just read this passage from the story?...I get a strange mix of all the above) or confusion regarding what in the world I’m saying. Lately, though, by using simple sentences with them, repeating them, and sometimes dropping hints, one kid in the room will suddenly thrust their hand into the air, and “Oh! Ma’am!” at me excitedly, hardly waiting until they’re called on before they stand up and answer. These correct answers are, I hope, encouraging not just to me, but to the other students as well! It’s great to see even the sixth and seventh standards answering me in English, rather than Gujarati. On a few occasions I’ve even been able to coax full sentences out of them; the correct sentence is then written on the board, and the class copies it into their notebooks.
By now, the English medium students have, for the most part, “gotten over me.” This isn’t necessarily a negative thing, it just means that they’re reverted to their typical, mischievous middle-school selves. Now that the students have adjusted to my pronunciation and the novelty of a foreign teacher, I’m left faced with the time-old task of just keeping them interested in the lesson. During a usual class session, this isn’t unmanageable, but during the Library periods that I’ve been asked to take, I’ve been trying to switch things up from the usual routine and have met with an excited and chaotic response! For one thing, I’ve tried to begin the class by allowing the students to choose their own books to read. This seemed only logical to me, since I only ever wanted to read the books I was interested in. Isn’t that true for all of us? But it seems that the students are accustomed to having their books doled out to them, like unappealing rice gruel, and are forced to sit through the thirty five minutes in bored-to-tears silence, mouthing the words of the story or staring blankly into space. Considering this history, it’s no surprise that they have no idea how to conduct themselves when given the freedom to choose their own stories… the students battle over books, claim they need to trade two or three times, and rush out of their seats before being called. After some trial and error, I’ve concluded that I need to give the class printed hand-outs to better hold their attention and still their questions. Handouts are something they never receive on a usual day since printers aren’t common and supplementary material is usually unnecessary when following the government curriculum. Still, I hit up the internet café two days ago to print some Reading Log sheets that the students can use to record their progress, and write down the title of their book. This way I can make a master list that absolutely WILL NOT change, so that we can hopefully finally start the activity that I have in mind: For four weeks, the students will read the same book (and hopefully complete it), while logging the pages they’ve read each week. The students are divided into three teams, and the winning team will be selected based on a couple of categories: one is cumulative pages read, and the other is a poster presentation, which will include a character description, plot summarization, and plot synthesis. Extra points for added details and creativity. The groups must also figure out a way to combine everyone’s individual posters to make one collage-style presentation. It seems that this activity may max out their group collaboration skills, but I’m hopeful that it will be fun and interesting for them. If the kids are overly lively… well, at least they’re excited!
Today was especially fun in the Gujarati medium because it was the Science Fair, and I got to wander around and look at all the little contraptions the students had hooked up together. There were lots of light bulbs, fire alarms, solar-powered lights, wind-powered lights, and even some water purifiers and a water alarm (perfect for rainy season!). Most of the kids wouldn’t attempt to explain their creations to me in English, but I got one well-rehearsed Gujarati explanation from a girl who looked to be in about 6th standard and was undeterred by my blank look, as well as some very neat English explanations from my 11th Standard kids. (So proud.) Pamela had her camera with her, so there should be some nice technicolor pictures pending!
As it is, it’s late. Time to call it a school night.
Namaste,
Dalena
As time passes, it’s interesting to have our days divided into the two different worlds of the English and Gujarati mediums… each day brings its own mini culture-shock. In the Gujarati medium I have the sense that many of the students remain a bit “star-struck.” I’ve glimpsed giddy girls clapping their hands in delight that I’m coming to their classroom before rushing back to their seats to greet me with an enthusiastic “GOOD MORNING, MA’AM! HOW ARE YOU?” as I walk in, after which I can’t hide my amused grin.
Because of the lower English comprehension level in the Gujarati medium, my teaching takes on a more theatrical quality, and I’m increasingly prone to gesture, act out, and make voices for different characters—I feel like it’s my job to make the stories come alive for the students, so that they’re really focused on understanding what happens next. One of the biggest tendencies I’ve had to fight is the trap of speaking too quickly. Even when I feel like I’m speaking slower than normal, this is often too fast for my classes, especially the younger standards, who are dealing with my foreign accent and pronunciation on top of everything else. In the absence of slide-show technology or a printer (though Pamela and I are planning on investing in one of those soon!) I’ve started to find success in drawing pictures on the board, gesturing wildly, and finally (it seems) finding the right speaking tempo. The amount of Gujarati translation the kids end up with varies depending on which co-teacher I’m working with during the day, and some teachers are eager to jump in and over-explain things, while others sit back and watch me do my thing. I felt highly rewarded yesterday, however, when Vijay Sir, one of my more silent co-teachers, watched my full lesson and actively chose not to provide any Gujarati translations. When the kids seemed a bit confused, he merely backed me up and said, “Listen carefully to Madam! You will understand her explanations.” I repeated myself, while speaking slowly, drawing, and acting, and the kids were able to follow! The story I was explaining was “The Black Bull,” which is a Jataka Tale that tells of one of the Buddha’s previous lifetimes before he became the Buddha, when he was born as a black bull. During the first paragraph the kids encounter the line, “In these lives, he is known as the Bodhisattva, or the Buddha-to-be.” To explain “Buddha-to-be” I asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, and wrote those things on the board. We ended up with an “engineer-to-be,” a “doctor-to-be,” and a “policeman-to-be,” as well as many more enthusiastic hands that there weren’t time for.
Often-times, I’m not sure if the silences that follow my comprehension questions signify confusion regarding how to answer (the students must wonder, Should we use English or Gujarati? What is the proper way to answer the question? Can I just read this passage from the story?...I get a strange mix of all the above) or confusion regarding what in the world I’m saying. Lately, though, by using simple sentences with them, repeating them, and sometimes dropping hints, one kid in the room will suddenly thrust their hand into the air, and “Oh! Ma’am!” at me excitedly, hardly waiting until they’re called on before they stand up and answer. These correct answers are, I hope, encouraging not just to me, but to the other students as well! It’s great to see even the sixth and seventh standards answering me in English, rather than Gujarati. On a few occasions I’ve even been able to coax full sentences out of them; the correct sentence is then written on the board, and the class copies it into their notebooks.
By now, the English medium students have, for the most part, “gotten over me.” This isn’t necessarily a negative thing, it just means that they’re reverted to their typical, mischievous middle-school selves. Now that the students have adjusted to my pronunciation and the novelty of a foreign teacher, I’m left faced with the time-old task of just keeping them interested in the lesson. During a usual class session, this isn’t unmanageable, but during the Library periods that I’ve been asked to take, I’ve been trying to switch things up from the usual routine and have met with an excited and chaotic response! For one thing, I’ve tried to begin the class by allowing the students to choose their own books to read. This seemed only logical to me, since I only ever wanted to read the books I was interested in. Isn’t that true for all of us? But it seems that the students are accustomed to having their books doled out to them, like unappealing rice gruel, and are forced to sit through the thirty five minutes in bored-to-tears silence, mouthing the words of the story or staring blankly into space. Considering this history, it’s no surprise that they have no idea how to conduct themselves when given the freedom to choose their own stories… the students battle over books, claim they need to trade two or three times, and rush out of their seats before being called. After some trial and error, I’ve concluded that I need to give the class printed hand-outs to better hold their attention and still their questions. Handouts are something they never receive on a usual day since printers aren’t common and supplementary material is usually unnecessary when following the government curriculum. Still, I hit up the internet café two days ago to print some Reading Log sheets that the students can use to record their progress, and write down the title of their book. This way I can make a master list that absolutely WILL NOT change, so that we can hopefully finally start the activity that I have in mind: For four weeks, the students will read the same book (and hopefully complete it), while logging the pages they’ve read each week. The students are divided into three teams, and the winning team will be selected based on a couple of categories: one is cumulative pages read, and the other is a poster presentation, which will include a character description, plot summarization, and plot synthesis. Extra points for added details and creativity. The groups must also figure out a way to combine everyone’s individual posters to make one collage-style presentation. It seems that this activity may max out their group collaboration skills, but I’m hopeful that it will be fun and interesting for them. If the kids are overly lively… well, at least they’re excited!
Today was especially fun in the Gujarati medium because it was the Science Fair, and I got to wander around and look at all the little contraptions the students had hooked up together. There were lots of light bulbs, fire alarms, solar-powered lights, wind-powered lights, and even some water purifiers and a water alarm (perfect for rainy season!). Most of the kids wouldn’t attempt to explain their creations to me in English, but I got one well-rehearsed Gujarati explanation from a girl who looked to be in about 6th standard and was undeterred by my blank look, as well as some very neat English explanations from my 11th Standard kids. (So proud.) Pamela had her camera with her, so there should be some nice technicolor pictures pending!
As it is, it’s late. Time to call it a school night.
Namaste,
Dalena
love aaj kal
As my friends, parents, professors, and especially boyfriends know, I am obsessed with love. I love the concept of love, the idea of it, the feel and action of it. Senior year in college I did an honors thesis called "1,372 for Love," a collection of love poetry I wrote, and I've spent countless hours reading and thinking about the language we use to talk about love. Needless to say I'm aware the English language has some pretty strange ways to talk about love.
So I was understandably amused when I found myself in front of a class of 14 year old boys, trying to get them to create a narration for a story called "The Romance" in spoken English class. The activity, called the story jigsaw, involved them looking at three different stick figure drawings, narrating the drawings, and then putting them in order. The first drawing was of a stick figure girl and a stick figure boy with a heart over his head.
The question was, "Why does the boy have a heart over his head?"
"Because he is loves the girl!" someone answered.
"Yes, but the correct way to say this is "he loves the girl, or even 'he is in love with the girl.'"
They looked at me like I was crazy. I sighed. Then I wrote "fall in love" on the board.
"Who knows the word 'fall?'" I asked. No one knew, so I acted it out. "In English we say 'I fall in love.'" I pretended to fall again, then pointed at the ground. "The love is there on the ground, and I FALL into it," I said emphatically, falling into an imaginary pit of mushy feelings, hormones, and heartbreak. All the boys laughed. I felt ridiculous, but not because the boys were laughing.
I felt stupid because the phrase is so stupid! What kind of stupid language am I teaching, anyway??
The final question I asked the class was "Why does the girl not love the boy" (the final stick figure drawing is of a girl running away from a boy while yelling "NO!"). A very bright student raised his hand.
"Because the boy is not handsome!"
I laughed really loud. "Very good!"
If only it were that simple...
So I was understandably amused when I found myself in front of a class of 14 year old boys, trying to get them to create a narration for a story called "The Romance" in spoken English class. The activity, called the story jigsaw, involved them looking at three different stick figure drawings, narrating the drawings, and then putting them in order. The first drawing was of a stick figure girl and a stick figure boy with a heart over his head.
The question was, "Why does the boy have a heart over his head?"
"Because he is loves the girl!" someone answered.
"Yes, but the correct way to say this is "he loves the girl, or even 'he is in love with the girl.'"
They looked at me like I was crazy. I sighed. Then I wrote "fall in love" on the board.
"Who knows the word 'fall?'" I asked. No one knew, so I acted it out. "In English we say 'I fall in love.'" I pretended to fall again, then pointed at the ground. "The love is there on the ground, and I FALL into it," I said emphatically, falling into an imaginary pit of mushy feelings, hormones, and heartbreak. All the boys laughed. I felt ridiculous, but not because the boys were laughing.
I felt stupid because the phrase is so stupid! What kind of stupid language am I teaching, anyway??
The final question I asked the class was "Why does the girl not love the boy" (the final stick figure drawing is of a girl running away from a boy while yelling "NO!"). A very bright student raised his hand.
"Because the boy is not handsome!"
I laughed really loud. "Very good!"
If only it were that simple...
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tough Love
The most heartbreaking thing happened to me last Friday: because each and every student in my 8th standard boys class - the devious yet endearing lot - lapsed into repeated bouts of violence, I absolutely lost my temper at their lack of decorum and they really lost their temper back. Class ended with me storming out, telling the boys not to bother coming back to class, and them yelling back that they didn't want class anymore. I regretted the shouting match as soon as I got home and realized how much I actually do love them (I have told Milly so many times that, for the first time in my amateur teaching career, I will most probably shed tears on my last class with these rascals), and the fear that they would actually not come back to class and outright reject me took over for the rest of the weekend.
Well, I sheepishly walked back to Bajipura today for my afternoon class, and lo and behold! All of my students (I mean all of them), were waiting for me in their seats. In true form, they all aloofly asked me what I was doing coming to class when I had threatened that I wouldn't, and I (childishly) reciprocated by asking them what they were waiting for since I obviously wasn't there for class, and things were really tense. Then as soon as I put all of their notebooks on the table, they eagerly jumped out of their seats, laughed, grabbed their notebooks, fished spare bits of chalk out of their pockets for me to write on the board with like they always do....and then the impossible happened: THEY WERE BETTER BEHAVED THAN THEY HAD EVER BEEN BEFORE.
We had such a wonderful class, our mutual affections are rekindled, and GOSH have I learned a big time lesson. Kudos to Meghan for patiently telling me so many times how very forgiving children are - my boys really just left the past in the past, better than I was able to do. So me possibly (probably) crying on my upcoming last class - the three day countdown, yikes! - still holds, but I am so grateful that my relationship with my students has been healed, and made stronger. And, well, let's be completely truthful: absence really does seem to make the heart grow fonder...
Well, I sheepishly walked back to Bajipura today for my afternoon class, and lo and behold! All of my students (I mean all of them), were waiting for me in their seats. In true form, they all aloofly asked me what I was doing coming to class when I had threatened that I wouldn't, and I (childishly) reciprocated by asking them what they were waiting for since I obviously wasn't there for class, and things were really tense. Then as soon as I put all of their notebooks on the table, they eagerly jumped out of their seats, laughed, grabbed their notebooks, fished spare bits of chalk out of their pockets for me to write on the board with like they always do....and then the impossible happened: THEY WERE BETTER BEHAVED THAN THEY HAD EVER BEEN BEFORE.
We had such a wonderful class, our mutual affections are rekindled, and GOSH have I learned a big time lesson. Kudos to Meghan for patiently telling me so many times how very forgiving children are - my boys really just left the past in the past, better than I was able to do. So me possibly (probably) crying on my upcoming last class - the three day countdown, yikes! - still holds, but I am so grateful that my relationship with my students has been healed, and made stronger. And, well, let's be completely truthful: absence really does seem to make the heart grow fonder...
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Girls and Jewelry - the Remix
As the girls club (more exciting group name to be decided by the girls upon my departure, impending!) has recently kicked off, I think it only appropriate to give credit where deserved: the Madhi principal Modi-sir gets all of the kudos for being so absolutely supportive - not only did he recruit all the girls for me before I even asked, but also he has given me each and every one of the girls’ free class slots so that I can speed up the 8-week curriculum into the 2+ weeks that I have left.
The girls are also wonderful and certainly deviate from the norm; that is, while the younger girls in my Spoken English class tend to be a bit reserved and shy, these 12th standard girls are anything but! They are outgoing and talkative and creative – all very exciting and making my job as facilitator a lot easier, and they really set an upbeat tone that leaves everyone excited.
They really seem to be enjoying the various teambuilding games that I have played with them, but also very successful was our first real exercise and discussion! In this activity, I divided the girls into lots of small groups, and each girl received a handful of beads, different colors; the ultimate goal was to walk around and trade beads with each other until all the beads in their hand were of a single color.
The catch? Some girls could not move from the place they were rooted, some had to keep their hand behind their back and not look at what color they were giving away/ receiving, others had to give up whatever was asked of them, and finally, some girls did not even know the rules of the game and had to try and figure out what was going on. Of course, there were also the very few privileged girls who had all of their capabilities about them.
The discussion portion related the game to the larger societal view, and we talked about all the inequalities we see in
Thanks for reading, more updates coming soon!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Supah Stahs
Today I went in search of statistics and demographic information about Madhi High School, and in the process I got to spend some quality time with my fellow caste-member (he never fails to remind me!), the very sweet and endearing Darshenbhai Shah, head secretary and expert on all the things Madhi. With only a few language related barriers, I found out lots of information that is really very interesting.
I was surprised to learn that all of the teachers keep an exact tally of scheduled caste and scheduled tribe students in each and every classroom; this information is required by the government so that adequate financial assistance can be offered to the students and families, and while I had learned from Nanubhai orientation that the schools we work with have a very high number of tribal students, seeing the actual numbers really drove the point home for me in a whole new way; well over 50% of each standard is part of the scheduled tribe, and while it seems obvious, the lower performing C, D and E sections of each standard – composed entirely of students coming to Madhi from neighboring villages – were overwhelmingly tribal.
We do like to joke that the town of Madhi, with its two main streets and many shops (and restaurants!) is like civilization when compared to the town of Bajipura, so imagine my surprise when I learned that most of our students do not even come from Madhi. It absolutely blows me away that students coming from very small villages a considerable distance away from the school, with few resources and opportunities drawing them to school, and instead, several life realities pulling them away, still manage to be such dedicated and engaged students in the classroom. After taking a poll of my very motivated Spoken English class, I learned that the majority of the students make the trek to class from various villages scattered all over the place, an entire hour before school even starts, on top of their tuition classes and other commitments. My little 9th standard superstars!
Thanks for reading!
Pardon my delinquency...
...but this entry, and the two that follow in rapid succession, are quite old and only now am I posting! Enjoy!
For a country with such a large population, it is incredible how
For example, while in
While it does not quite warm my heart the same way when our students accost me with questions about what caste I am in, quickly followed by yells across the 70-student-deep classroom to notify every other Vaishya/Vanya pupil that they do have something in common with Mansi Madame after all (copy-paste this exact same scenario to the Madhi secondary office, but here I also garnered a dinner invitation from the head secretary, who happens to be a Shah as well), it is possible to extrapolate to a bigger picture: even across such huge economic, linguistic, cultural, lifestyle divides, it seems part of the local mentality to forge some kind of common ground with almost anyone.
Especially after reading about how the political preferences in Gujarat are leading to isolation of the less advantaged, I do want to believe that in the small, daily choices and interactions, the people in this state feel a lot of unity over the many overlapping parts of their very separate lives. Everyone manages to be connected to everyone else, somehow. So
Cross your fingers, and thanks for reading!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Modi is Coming!
One day, several weeks ago, Hansa-ben told me, “Milly, there is no Spoken English tomorrow!” Hansa-ben, an English teacher in the secondary school, is a mentor and like a mother to me; she has been very supportive of me and the other NEF teachers, and often invites us to her house right down the street. “We will come to school at 7:30 A.M.!” I was very confused, as school normally starts at 10:30 and my morning Spoken English classes are held at 9:15. It was only after some confused questioning that I finally understood—Narendra Modi was coming to town!
If you ask a Gujarati child to name some of the most important people in India, s/he would probably say Mahatma Gandhi, Shah Rukh Kahn, and Narendra Modi. (And maybe cricket player Sachin Tendulkar too). Narendra Modi is the chief minister of Gujarat—a very powerful man. So for him to come to the villages was, naturally, a big event. All afternoon, the students asked me, “Teacher, tomorrow you go to Valod?” Or they would say, “Teacher, Modi come to Valod!” I soon found out that Valod is another village, slightly bigger than Bajipura, about 5km away, and the students were coming to school early to go join the procession to welcome Modi.
So the next day, I went to school earlier than usual to see what this was all about. Having missed breakfast, I was buying a samosa from the snack stand next to school—when I heard students screaming from behind. I whipped my head around, and to my utter surprise, I see a truck full of 9th standard students leaving the school! It was one of the most memorable sights ever: 80 students were standing on the back of a cargo truck, swaying back and forth and falling over each other, as the truck maneuvered through the warzone that is the Indian highway. “Hi Teacher!” they all yelled as the truck zoomed by. I don’t know if I was expecting them to be on a school bus, but I was quite shocked and amused to see a truckload of laughing kids. I could not believe I had forgotten my camera!
When I arrived in Valod with the other teachers, the students were already standing in three straight lines along the village’s main street, holding green, orange and white flags. But they could not contain their excitement! When the teachers told them to stay in line, they resorted to jumping up and down in one spot. There were delegations from other local schools as well, but I must say, the Bajipura students were looking especially crisp in their uniforms.
Twenty minutes passed, and there was still no parade, no Modi. “They’re running on Indian time,” one of the local teachers whispered to me. So I took out the samosa I had bought earlier and was enjoying my late breakfast when Bharat-bhai, a math teacher and the academic dean, found me and exclaimed, “Milly! You like samosa?” My mouth full, I managed to say, “Mhmm!” as he motioned the other teachers and me to follow him to the fried food stand nearby. “You try this,” he said as he and the other teachers urged me to try one fried food after another. It is unbelievable how addictive Indian street food is; I had been careful not to eat anything off the streets until then, but it was like discovering a whole new world of vegetarian heavenliness! As we stuffed ourselves full, everybody agreed that Meghan and I have “very strong stomachs.”
An hour later, there was finally some movement down the street. There was a procession of some important looking people, and there was a dance performed by local students to welcome them. But still, there was no Narendra Modi. I found out later that the patriotic parades took place all over the Surat district by Modi’s mandate, and he was not able to (or maybe was never supposed to?) come to Valod. Nonetheless, the students were excited to be part of the event—they had huge grins on their faces as they marched down the street, proudly carrying their flags.
Modi may not have come to the village, but there is no doubt that the students have tremendous pride for their country. “I love my India” is probably the most common English phrase around here. Bajipura’s English Medium students begin their morning pledge by saying, “India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters.” India is growing rapidly; although “development” has not quite reached all corners of the country yet, it is the new generation that will continue India’s growth. When we talked about future careers in Spoken English, I found out that my students have big dreams—many aspire to become doctors, engineers, and lawyers. It is not easy being from a tribal or lower caste family in rural India, but I hope and I pray that the students will truly be the future leaders of the India that they love.
Namaste and thank you for reading,
Milly
Sunday, July 19, 2009
"Teacher pleeaasse!"
In the last month, amidst so many new sights and smells, I have been learning to live with some new roles as well. First, I am a foreigner living in a very small village and second, I am a new faculty member of Madhi High School. Both of these have been an interesting and exciting adjustment.
The population of Bajipura hovers around 5,000 and there is not a move I make that goes unnoticed. By now, the community knows that I like to run early in the morning, I like buying saris at the Sunday market, and that I need ice cream or chocolate at least twice a week. Even one of my students who lives in a different village knew that I bought bananas last week! It can be a strange feeling to know that people take note of everything I do but I don’t let that stop my day to day life. Often, our attempts to blend in by wearing salwar kameez or saris can actually set us more apart. Slowly, we are becoming a fixture, not just an attraction, here in Bajipura. I was happy when I was asked to join two important cultural events that sent me door to door with the other women in the village asking for blessings. Even though we could not communicate sufficiently, there was an understanding that went beyond words.
Madhi High School is about 10k from where we live in Bajipura and every morning we are picked up and taken to school in a van. The commute to school is something that I enjoy because every day I see something new. The road to school is lined with fields of sugar cane and rice patties and is shared by cars, freight trucks, motorcycles, bicycles, goats, cows, pedestrians, and tractors. Many times we have to stop for cattle and even once for two goats butting heads in the middle of the road. The river is also a shared place; it is where people wash cars, wash clothes, bathe and even where cattle find respite from the heat. It is astonishing to see what an economic divide there is here. On the same road to school there is a fantastic mansion flanked on either side by utter poverty where people use pumps to gather water and electricity does not exist. It is exactly these people that we are hoping to help; rural people thirsting for opportunities.
The students at Madhi impress me. Many come from tiny villages and despite such a lack of resources (and sometimes even a lack of electricity in the classroom) they are still dedicated to learning, at times with overwhelming eagerness. My first two weeks of teaching started slow as the students adjusted to me and I learned how to interact with them. After they became comfortable with me they showed me just what they are capable of. My questions almost never go unanswered and the difficult part is picking just one student to answer. Their hands go up with impressive speed and if they feel that perhaps I didn’t see it they start to wave with an urgency reserved for life and death situations. Just in case I still didn’t see them, they start to call out “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher pleeeaassse!” When I pick one student to answer the others let their hands fall with a disappointed sighing sound, until the next question that is, when their hands once again fly up with speed.
Greetings from Surat!
Dalena here. Mine and Pamela's apologies for being MIA up till now--finding time to come to the internet cafe while balancing our increased schedule has posed a bit of a challenge, but we are reportedly getting the internet connected at our house tomorrow (fingers crossed that this is true!) after which updates--and pictures!--should come more frequently.
To bring everyone quickly up to date: Pamela and I just finished our third full week of teaching at Khatiwala High School in the English and Gujarati mediums. Surat is a fantastic town, full of lots of little luxuries including a movie theater, a 4-story mall, a Big Bazaar (the Indian equivalent of Wal-Mart, where they sell essentially anything your heart could desire, so long as you're not craving non-veg foods), and a handful of mainstream Western restaurants (McDonalds, Subway, and Pizza Hut). Our routine here consists of waking up around 6 or 6:15 in order to be at school by 7:10 to teach in the English medium, which goes until 12:30. I've picked up classes in the 6th, 7th, and 8th standards which I teach on a rotating schedule, taking two classes per week, which gives me the welcome opportunity to see the same students all week. After 12:30, we return home to lunch and break for a couple hours, before returning to school at 3:25 to teach in the Gujarati medium until 5:45. In the Gujarati medium, I teach the 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 11th standards--each section of each class once a week. Teaching in each medium has its own distinctive flavor: the English medium kids are incredibly high-functioning but also overly verbose (especially on topics unrelated to the lesson), while the Gujarati medium kids seem enthralled with the lesson, but keep mum when I try to get them to respond in English!
Whenever I get the chance, I'm trying to work with both mediums more on getting comfortable with original composition work in English, something not highly touched upon in the government curriculum. They're used to regurgitating answers, or copying sample composition works, rather than conveying their own original ideas, so I hope to get them to stretch that ability! Some exciting opportunities have come up relating to the supplementary material at the back of lessons, which the teachers usually skip over. Regarding one poem I taught to 7th Standard, "Punishment in Kindergarten," by Kamala Das, the supplementary material included an explanation of metaphors and compound epithets, and workin with students to come up with their own. The kids had a firm grasp of similes, and were able to give me numerous examples they had memorized from their textbooks ("as proud as a peacock"; "as timid as a church-mouse"; "as straight as an arrow"...) but were surprised to learn it was possible to take out the words "like" and "as" and simply say that something IS something else. After demonstrating this possibility with the example, "My mother was a monster this morning," (this got a big laugh from the whole class) I was finally able to get some fine responses, including "the students were animals," "the road was a snake," and "school is a zoo."
Compound epithets (two words joined together by a hyphen which describe a noun, according to the students' texbook) are a part of language I don't recall learning about, so it was a learning experience for me, as well! Kamala Das uses multiple compound epithets in her poem, including "honey-coloured sky," "blue-frocked woman," and "steel-white sun." My 7-B class in particular jumped on this part of speech and gave me some great descriptions including, "cane-furnished house," "well-dressed teachers," and "elephant-coloured sky." While I'm not sure exactly what color this last one brings to mind, I appreciated the creativity! I'm now noticing many more compound epithets in my own reading...
Saturdays at school are a fun experience as well, as every alternate Saturday the students engage in different group activities, including a Spelling Bee, a Fancy-Dress Competition, and, two weeks ago, a Talk Show Debate. I had the chance to watch the 10th-12th standards debate about the topic, "Do Indians excel more in India or abroad?" which the students argued passionately (and loudly!) about, denouncing racism in America, emphasizing the need for change in India in terms of improving living conditions and eradicating bribery in business, and even praising Barack Obama as a symbol of change in America. At one point, an 11th Standard student turned to me directly and asked me, "Excuse me Ma'am, but are the Indians in America happy?" What a broad question! I could only tell him that my own friends from college seemed happy, but I couldn't speak for all the Indians in America. At the end, the Principal unexpectedly asked me to bring the event to a close with my own remarks. After a pause, while I waited for the students to quiet down, I tried to sum up the strong points of the conversation. One of the first points that had been made, I remarked, was one of the best: that it shouldn't matter whether Indians live in India or in America, they have the potential to excel in both places. What is important is to be aware of the challenges of living in each place. America does have it's own problems, among which racism is one, but they too can have a voice if they choose to live in America and help to change the problem. It was good to see such expressions of patriotism and also pushes to change being voiced in the same room. One female student was particularly heartening with her cry that "The world is a community! India is just part of the community, and all the parts of the community need to take care of each other. If India becomes the next superpower, we will again have the same problem as with America, and there will be more war..." Good words to remember as students from both "parts of the community" converse more! I'd like to see Pamela and I implement her idea of organizing pen pals between our students and those in the US... it seems like it could bring some very worthwhile dialogues at all age levels.
My internet time is up for the day, but I'll be in touch with more updates and photos soon!
Thank you for reading,
Dalena
To bring everyone quickly up to date: Pamela and I just finished our third full week of teaching at Khatiwala High School in the English and Gujarati mediums. Surat is a fantastic town, full of lots of little luxuries including a movie theater, a 4-story mall, a Big Bazaar (the Indian equivalent of Wal-Mart, where they sell essentially anything your heart could desire, so long as you're not craving non-veg foods), and a handful of mainstream Western restaurants (McDonalds, Subway, and Pizza Hut). Our routine here consists of waking up around 6 or 6:15 in order to be at school by 7:10 to teach in the English medium, which goes until 12:30. I've picked up classes in the 6th, 7th, and 8th standards which I teach on a rotating schedule, taking two classes per week, which gives me the welcome opportunity to see the same students all week. After 12:30, we return home to lunch and break for a couple hours, before returning to school at 3:25 to teach in the Gujarati medium until 5:45. In the Gujarati medium, I teach the 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 11th standards--each section of each class once a week. Teaching in each medium has its own distinctive flavor: the English medium kids are incredibly high-functioning but also overly verbose (especially on topics unrelated to the lesson), while the Gujarati medium kids seem enthralled with the lesson, but keep mum when I try to get them to respond in English!
Whenever I get the chance, I'm trying to work with both mediums more on getting comfortable with original composition work in English, something not highly touched upon in the government curriculum. They're used to regurgitating answers, or copying sample composition works, rather than conveying their own original ideas, so I hope to get them to stretch that ability! Some exciting opportunities have come up relating to the supplementary material at the back of lessons, which the teachers usually skip over. Regarding one poem I taught to 7th Standard, "Punishment in Kindergarten," by Kamala Das, the supplementary material included an explanation of metaphors and compound epithets, and workin with students to come up with their own. The kids had a firm grasp of similes, and were able to give me numerous examples they had memorized from their textbooks ("as proud as a peacock"; "as timid as a church-mouse"; "as straight as an arrow"...) but were surprised to learn it was possible to take out the words "like" and "as" and simply say that something IS something else. After demonstrating this possibility with the example, "My mother was a monster this morning," (this got a big laugh from the whole class) I was finally able to get some fine responses, including "the students were animals," "the road was a snake," and "school is a zoo."
Compound epithets (two words joined together by a hyphen which describe a noun, according to the students' texbook) are a part of language I don't recall learning about, so it was a learning experience for me, as well! Kamala Das uses multiple compound epithets in her poem, including "honey-coloured sky," "blue-frocked woman," and "steel-white sun." My 7-B class in particular jumped on this part of speech and gave me some great descriptions including, "cane-furnished house," "well-dressed teachers," and "elephant-coloured sky." While I'm not sure exactly what color this last one brings to mind, I appreciated the creativity! I'm now noticing many more compound epithets in my own reading...
Saturdays at school are a fun experience as well, as every alternate Saturday the students engage in different group activities, including a Spelling Bee, a Fancy-Dress Competition, and, two weeks ago, a Talk Show Debate. I had the chance to watch the 10th-12th standards debate about the topic, "Do Indians excel more in India or abroad?" which the students argued passionately (and loudly!) about, denouncing racism in America, emphasizing the need for change in India in terms of improving living conditions and eradicating bribery in business, and even praising Barack Obama as a symbol of change in America. At one point, an 11th Standard student turned to me directly and asked me, "Excuse me Ma'am, but are the Indians in America happy?" What a broad question! I could only tell him that my own friends from college seemed happy, but I couldn't speak for all the Indians in America. At the end, the Principal unexpectedly asked me to bring the event to a close with my own remarks. After a pause, while I waited for the students to quiet down, I tried to sum up the strong points of the conversation. One of the first points that had been made, I remarked, was one of the best: that it shouldn't matter whether Indians live in India or in America, they have the potential to excel in both places. What is important is to be aware of the challenges of living in each place. America does have it's own problems, among which racism is one, but they too can have a voice if they choose to live in America and help to change the problem. It was good to see such expressions of patriotism and also pushes to change being voiced in the same room. One female student was particularly heartening with her cry that "The world is a community! India is just part of the community, and all the parts of the community need to take care of each other. If India becomes the next superpower, we will again have the same problem as with America, and there will be more war..." Good words to remember as students from both "parts of the community" converse more! I'd like to see Pamela and I implement her idea of organizing pen pals between our students and those in the US... it seems like it could bring some very worthwhile dialogues at all age levels.
My internet time is up for the day, but I'll be in touch with more updates and photos soon!
Thank you for reading,
Dalena
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Introducing Bajipura!
When I first arrived in Bajipura, it was around 2 pm, the hottest hour of the day. Seeing about three elderly people in the entire village, I thought, my goodness I’m in the middle of nowhere! But I soon found out that in the (relatively) cooler mornings and evenings, the village is full of life; there are children playing in the streets, students walking to and from school, workers commuting, and families socializing on outdoor bench swings (which every household here seems to have— we are determined to get one for our apartment too).
There are about 5,000 people living in the village of Bajipura. As we walked down the street to explore the village for the first time, I noticed that many of the newer houses have ornately carved doors and walls that are brightly painted in yellow, red, orange, green and blue. Every several hundred feet along our main street, there are temples of various faiths; there is one right in front of our apartment as well, and twice a day the songs of prayer ring throughout the entire street. There is also a river that runs through Bajipura; in the afternoons, there are women washing clothes, children bathing, and water buffaloes grazing on the green grass. My favorite spot is the bridge, where I can dangle my legs and read a book or do some writing—but some child would always manage to find me and curiously ask what I am doing!
All 5,000 people probably knew about us foreign teachers the day we arrived. The children were the first 
ones to greet us; any time they see us, they would stop whatever they are doing and scream out, “Hi Teacher!” Walking through the village, there is always some family that invites us into their home—the first several weeks were the peak of mango season, so every household would kindly offer us ripe orange mangoes that no matter how many I had eaten, I could not resist. Despite our non-existent Gujarati skills and the villagers’ limited English, we all somehow manage to communicate with smiles and wild gestures. Every week there is somebody new to wave to while strolling down the street.
On Sundays, Bajipura is at its liveliest. From the morning until the afternoon, there is an outdoor market that extends from the heart of the village to the river banks; the village square fills up with booths and vendors selling everything from clothes and jewelry to kitchenware and vegetables to samosas and shaved ice. There are mountains of chili peppers that reach up to my waist, and racks of clothes that seem to go on forever. We try to practice our awful bargaining skills, only to realize that the vendor is selling for a price lower than what we suggested!
Bajipura has proved itself much livelier than I had initially thought—and despite its small size, every week there is something new that I discover.
Namaste and thank you for reading,
Milly
Thursday, July 16, 2009
"I am very lucky"
Hey everyone – it’s Kitty teacher here; formerly known as Kirsten. It didn’t take long for me to get a petname – no one ever gets my name right, no matter what country I’m in! I really do love the name chosen for me in India!
It’s been a month now since I began teaching at Madhi High School. I can honestly say I’ve never been a part of a teaching experience quite like this before. Each day I encounter something new and I’m blown away by the eagerness of the students. I have one class in particular that impresses me with their knowledge and desire to learn. I’ve started meeting with 5 of these students and we call ourselves The Super English Club (this name was chosen by the students!). We meet twice a week during lunch recess and I bring them fun poems to discuss and teach them silly idioms that we laugh about when I explain to them the meaning of sayings like; “I’m all ears.” Things we say in our everyday conversations become extremely funny when you try and explain them to someone learning your language. These 5 kids are among the brightest of my students . I started to notice how they would turn and help their classmates with information I was teaching when they were confused. I got to thinking how peer mentoring could be used in the classroom so, Meet, Dhuval, Khrunal, Riddhi and Pooja have become a part of an experiment with me. Each week I look forward to hearing what they have to share with me about their readings and I find myself so excited when I see them helping their peers in my classroom. Pooja and Riddhi both would like to go to Medical School in the United States. They plan to come back to India and open hospitals. Dhuval and Meet dream of becoming scientists and inventing new products to help their country become successful. Dhuval says that he will become the richest man in the world through this. I have no doubts this could happen. Khrunal – small, bright eyed, immensely intelligent Khrunal – aspires to Presidency. They are all 13 years old and dreaming. In this India, will these dreams become realities? Will the dreams of their youth be thwarted by hardship and obstacles, exams and financial difficulties? I have so much hope for the positives for them.
Today I received a note from one of my 8th Standard Spoken English students named, Akashi. Entitled "I am very lucky", here is what she writes:
I am lucky because Miss Kitty teaches for me. My family loves me. I have two very good friends named Tuishu and Reshmu. I am very happy of my self.
Your lovely student,
Akashi
Even after this short time, I think that I am the lucky one to be teaching them. Until next time…peace from Bajipura, Gujarat. Enjoy the pictures of some of my students at Madhi High School, Madhi, Gujarat.
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