It’s a Bizarre Bazaar Life

Since Priya and I moved into our house in the middle of the main bazaar road, I have had the opportunity to truly experience the village life.  Sometimes it can be extremely noisy as the cars and chakras zoom by, honking incessantly and the cows and other assortment of animals moo, bark and howl, attempting to relax on our front porch.  Other times, I’ll be sitting on our front porch, trying to catch a breeze and countless people walk by, slowly, staring at me the whole way as if I were sitting on a parade float, instead of a porch.  While I could do without these experiences, I have come to appreciate my bizarre bazaar life.  We have incredibly friendly, helpful neighbours.  For instance, in our first week here we had countless problems, such as power outages, a leaky stove, and lack of the necessary kitchen utensils, but our neighbours always came to the rescue.  They bring us snacks, invite us over to watch T.V. and lend us anything we ever need.  Our flat neighbours even loaned us a swing for our front porch! And they gave me an incredible gift, a mosquito zapper which looks like a badminton racket.  And they can also really come through when you find yourself in a difficult situation.

On Friday, I travelled to Surat, the city about two hours away by bus.  The U.S. Consulate decided to come to Gujarat for one day, so I took this opportunity to travel the short distance to add additional pages to my full passport.  As with most tasks in India, it took the full day to find the Consulate, request pages, go to the bank and get a draft for the correct amount, and fill out the necessary paper work.  At last, at 6:00pm, I headed to the bus station to travel home.  I waited and waited but the bus never came.  An hour later, I spotted Vikrambhai, the peon at Kadod High School and we waited together for the Kadod bus.  Finally, a bus arrived, over an hour and a half late and by this time quite a crowd formed.  We ran to hop on the bus, pushing our way through a mob.  Somehow, in the midst of the madness, someone had opened my purse and stole my wallet.  When we got on the bus, I realized this and the people sitting near me tried to assist.  My wallet contained my cell phone, about Rs.2000 ($40), my American debit card and a USB drive.  We searched and asked around but to no avail. It was gone.  Thankfully, my passport was in the safe hand of the U.S. Consulate or this situation could have been greatly exacerbated.  Vikrambhai graciously offered to pay for my bus fare and stood near me the whole overcrowded ride home. 

As we reached Kadod, I suddenly became aware of the fact that within minutes everyone in the village would find out what happened.  That is another bonus or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it, of living in a small neighbourhood- everyone knows everyone else’s business.  I was already quite embarrassed and worried they would lecture me so this was the last thing I was ready to deal with.  I wanted to go home, cancel my credit card and climb into bed after a long day.   Vikrambhai walked me home and continued onto the school, which was close to where he lived.  While I was rehashing the store to Priya, she received a call from Amrithbhai, our neighbour who works at the phone booth.  He called to make sure I was okay and offered to report my stolen phone.  Seconds later, Principal Mahida called to make sure I hadn’t lost my passport and to see if I needed anything.  Another five minutes later a couple of other neighbours came over to make sure everything was alright.  No one lectured me; they were merely concerned about what I had lost. Throughout the weekend, I was randomly checked on.  And while I feared the attention I would receive for my unpleasant story, I am so grateful for the comfort and concern of my bazaar friends and neighbours.  And living in a foreign country on the other side of the world, it is vital to have people I can count on in any situation.

We're Getting There

A few weeks ago, Yogeshbhai, my co-teacher, and I made an agreement that if I taught him how to speak English more fluently/accurately, he would teach me Hindi. At the get-go, we had a pretty hard time communicating with each other. For example, I'd say something like, "We should think about how we can get the students more interested in their English lessons." He would stare at me for a couple of seconds then turn back to his work hoping that whatever I just said didn't need a response.

Since then, we've taken huge leaps in our ability to communicate with each other. We plan class lesson plans together and talk about what works and what doesn't. But there's still more work to be done. We had this conversation a few days ago:

Me: What exactly do people mean when they say Muhje samaj pari?
Yogesh: (says something that I just could not understand) Do you understand?
Me: ... No.
Yogesh: I know. (laughs and puts up his hand for a high-five)

Teaching Broken English is Broken English Teaching

For the students of Kadod High School, "essay-writing" does not mean the opportunity to exercise reason, give thoughts expression or otherwise practice the craft of writing. Rather, the teacher hand-copies a passage selected from the "Book of Essays," a slim volume with various editions prepared for each of the secondary grade levels (all are penned and approved by Gujurat's Board of Education). Meanwhile, students copy the passage verbatim into their notebooks. These notebooks are then given to the teacher, who is expected to grade her students solely on the merit of their ability to duplicate.

For a teacher, relegating students' powers of expression to pre-packaged uniformity is (at least, if I am any juge, it certainly ought to be) a pedagogical sin. More than a century has passed since Oscar Wilde wrote in his celebrated De Profundis,

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."

Putting aside the irony of my own present reliance on "someone else's opinions," I can't help but marvel how from my current station in rural Gujurat, the quotable Mr. Wilde is (unfortunately) as timely as ever.

It would be bad enough if the worst outcome of this exercise in mass-production was the stunting of my students' creative growth and the effective strangulation of their intellectual apertures. Yet, I find it still worse that that the material my students are expected to copy is riddled with grammatical errors and altogheter bodes a lack of fluency and basic compositional coherence.

It would be difficult to overstate the frustration and sadness I felt when I was told that when (remarkably, not "if") the passages from the book are incorrect, I am to content myself in teaching strictly according to what they read. The logic here, I've gathered, is that students are tested according to the book, so that is how they should be taught. Teach them how to use the English language properly, and they may well be penalized for it on their life-making (or breaking) state-sponsored exams. Teach them to pass their exams, and into the workforce they'll carry the mantle of substandard language skills; a legacy which has barred many generations before them from competing with urban Indians for the chance of a better quality of life. Herein lies a profoundly discouraging dialectic.

How can I even hope to effect the quality of English instruction in this community, my community (if only for a year), if I'm to carry out orders from the top-down which, in no uncertain terms, ask me to teach my students that incomplete fragments may pass as sentences; that run-on sentences are perfectly copacetic; that prepositions are optional and capitalization is but a caprice (all of this, coming after I tell them the author's name is, 'George Bernard Show')?

I wonder how Gandhiji might respond to the irksome panegyric which I transcribed for my 11th graders earlier today:

"India got freedom...Mahatma Gandhi helped the backward people...Let's pray to God that another Gandhi of that stature should incarnate in order to liberate our Mother India from the prevailing fear, hunger and corruption."

Not least for the fact that Gandhiji was himself born and bred not terribly far from Kadod, shouldn't we be teaching students that they are the ones who can "liberate" Mother India? That Gandhiji did not fight for the freedom to shackle students to the status quo? That India didn't "got" freedom; it achieved it by daring to demand the possible in spite of what was? That Gandhiji never saw people as 'backward,' only as people? Does it go without mentioning that he could not have seen the day when India's banner would fly over the Red Fort if he hadn't had at his disposal the language skills necessary to make the plight of colonized Indians a priority on the international agenda at the 1931 Round Table Conference (then hosted by the British, in English)?

These are the questions that raced through my mind as, against my every will, the chalk in my hand mechanically traced the lines quoted above. The bell rang. Class was dismissed and my students eagerly adjourned for recess. I waited until every one of the seventy-two of them had made their exit before I erased everything I'd written.

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I'm a big believer that, at least from here on out, the power of ordinary people working together is a force to which Prime Ministers (as much as Kings and Presidents) will always be beholden. International grassroots efforts, from the Red Cross to Al Qaeda, have time and again demonstrated how nonstate actors are changing a world too long divided by political geography. At Nanubhai, we've boldly staked our interest in transforming rural education in India. For those of you reading this from overseas, I want to tell you that on the ground, I believe we're doing the best we can. But Gujurat is in need of educational reform from the top-down. As Gujurat's irrepressible Chief Minister Modi has declared this to be the "Year of Education," I'd encourage you to help us think of ways to hold his administration as accountable for Kadod and Madhi as he must be for Surat and Ahmedabad.

I left school today feeling rather discouraged because I know, we can do better. India can do better. I've seen it. But the notion that 'better is possible' is not the glimmer of hope; it is the beckoning call of work to be done, at least as much by those of us in the classroom as in the halls of Parliament. I will keep you posted as each of us here tries to surmount the formidable challenges that lie ahead.

A Little Handball Hoopla

Friday was a lively day at Madhi High School.  When I stepped foot inside the gate, there were twenty men unloading gravel and spreading it around the school grounds.  I was happy because this meant that I would no longer have to hop over puddles on my way to classes.

When I got upstairs, the students happily greeted me and asked me if I was going to stay for the Handball Tournament that would be starting at 11:00 am.  I agreed to attend and continued walking to the staff room to find out what was going on. The teachers explained that we would have a half day of classes and then the District Handball Tournament would be held on our school grounds.  Several teams from all over the area would be arriving to compete for the title.  This explained the sudden need to maintain the school grounds!

As I taught my classes all morning, my students clearly could not concentrate as they were anxious for the games to begin.  From 10 am onwards, buses entered the school grounds unloading the other high school students.  The last hour of my classes was an uphill battle to keep my students focused.

At 11:00 am sharp, Madhi students rushed home to change into their cool clothes and returned to the school within minutes, not to miss a second of the action.  I was also intrigued because recently I have been craving sports entertainment (my home baseball team, the St. Louis Cardinals are competing for first place and every day I hear updates).

After the teams lined up and sang the national anthem, the games began.  The first game was full of action. The handball court is slightly smaller than a basketball court and the teams run from end to end, passing the ball back and forth several times each minute.  It seems incredibly exhausting.  Also, from my observations, I gathered that handball is a combination of soccer, except there's no kicking, rugby and American football, except there's no tackling and netball, a popular African sport.  The match lasts about 30 minutes with over twenty goals or points scored in each game.

The second match included Madhi High School.  It was amazing.  We scored continuously and only allowed one point to the opposing team.  After the excellent home match, I stayed for one more game, in which two girls' teams showed their skills.  While I couldn't stay for the full tournament, I later heard that Madhi won the  tournament! It was a great afternoon full of fun competition and socializing with my friends and students from school! Enjoy the short video!

Kho-Kho Competition

One of my classroom routines in Spoken English class is to ask students what they did last night, and 9 times out of 10, I get the same response: Last night, I played kho-kho. What was this kho-kho? It sounded a lot like a board game to me, so that's just what I assumed it was.

This morning at Spoken English class, a few of the boys told me that the school was having a kho-kho competition and that I should go and watch. "Sure!" I said. I imagined a bunch of students sitting in the auditorium, huddling over boards and game pieces. I'll stay for a few minutes, say hi to my students, and head back to the staffroom, I thought.

After teaching third period, Yogesh, Dave, Apeksha, Adarash, and I headed to the competition. "It's at the third ground," Yogesh told me. The third ground? That's just a huge field by the hostel. Students are playing board games there? On the other side of the bridge connecting the third ground to the rest of the school, we saw a mass of students surrounding a playing field marked with white powder, much like a football field. We got closer to find students in team uniforms running and chasing each other down a line of other squatting team members. Each time a player was tagged out, the audience wooped and hollered. I tried to figure out what the point of the game was by watching, but after a few minutes, I just felt more confused.
I found Dhirenbhai, the computer teacher, standing on the opposite side of the field, so I went over and asked him to explain the rules to me, and it all started to make sense. Here are the rules in a nutshell: How to play kho-kho

We came when the first half of the finals were underway, and the Kadod team, made up mostly of juniors and seniors, were the chasers. The opposing team finished the 7-minute half tagging out 4 members of the opposing team. Here’s a picture taken of the Kadod team during half-time as they kept repeated to themselves over and over again all they needed to do was to prevent 4 of their teammates from being tagged out to win.
The whistle signaled the start of the second half. There was shouting. There was diving. And there were some very close calls. Two Kadod players were tagged out within the first 2 minutes of the half. I could feel a wave of anxiety spread over the onlookers. But then Jaunti, Kadod’s star player, stepped out onto the field. Even in the wet mud, Jaunti was able to maneuver swiftly away from chasers, making split-second decisions to cross over the line to avoid falling into traps. One minute passed, then two, and then three. Out of frustration, players of the other team began lunging at Jaunti desperately. Each time he was able to avoid begin tagged, Kadod fans would jump and cheer to push him on. The final whistle blew, and Kadod was victorious 4-2! All at once, the students rushed the field and lifted the players onto their shoulders. It was an awesome display of school spirit.

With this victory, Kadod will play in the district competitions on August 30th. Since most of you readers are probably new to this sport, you have no other team to root for besides Kadod, so wish them luck!

Happy Birthday Emily Teacher!

On Wednesday, August 4th, I celebrated my birthday at Madhi High School.  I was previously informed that I needed to buy enough candy to distribute to each of my classes as well as the other teachers so on Tuesday evening, I went to the store and bought over 300 pieces of my favourite fruit candy, Falero!

When I woke on Wednesday morning, I decided to go all out and wear my new sari.  I rushed over to our neighbors and politely asked in broken Hindi if she could help me pin and wrap the yards of fabric that make up the outfit. After I was dressed, I grabbed my bag of candy and headed to Madhi.

When I arrived at school I was greeted by all of my Spoken English students wishing me "Happy Birthday".  I was so surprised they knew, but then I remembered they had asked me several weeks earlier when my birthday was. When we went to the classroom, my students formed a circle around me and presented me with gifts.  I proceeded to open them and found that they had gotten me a few figurines, several pieces of jewelry, beautiful cards and various little trinkets.  I was so touched that they made such a big deal of my birthday.

The rest of the day, I handed out candy to anyone who I passed.  Everyone shook my hand and wished me many happy days in this new year. I even handed out candy to all of my friends in the village.

All in all, it was a great birthday.  I ended it with all of the fellows.  We celebrated over Chinese food at our favourite restaurant and mango lassis at the ice-cream shop.

Curious Minds

The best part of my day is when I have my women’s initiative group. The girls in my group are so intelligent, enthusiastic, and curious about life. It’s refreshing to be around people who can’t wait to answer questions or find an answer to one. Their input is always surprising and they say things I sometimes don’t expect.
Today, I had the girls write a question, any question about their body, growing up, puberty, or just anything general that they want to know the answer to. The questions are anonymous to spare the girls any embarrassment later. One of the questions was, “When you were little were you fat or thin?” I smiled at the reflection of the past, “I was chubby. I didn’t outgrow my baby fat and I wasn’t happy because I thought my body would never change but then it did!” One of the girls face lit up relating to what I was saying.
The next question was, “I want to be an engineer, will I be?” It took me a minute to collect myself because I was so touched by this question. These girls want to make something of themselves. They want to be successful but they just don’t know what the process is. Now that I am leaving in a few days I just can’t seem to detach myself from them. I want to fill them with as much information as possible about anything-everything!

Our new Ghar

After many long weeks of living out of our suitcases, Priya, Emily, and I finally moved into our new house. The house looks almost antique with carvings on doors, walls, and cabinets. The first floor has a sitting area, middle room with a swing, and a kitchen. Upstairs there are two more rooms. There is enough room to roam around and scatter things and just be in your own space. My favorite room is the sitting room because the sun light hits the room just right while I sit and read a book on a soft bed.
So far, we’ve had a few adventures with our house some of them include making chai as the first welcome to our house, then making pakora (fried onion in batter), and lastly adopting a cat named Chandler. The name was picked by Priya and Emily who constantly quote the show, “Friends”. We are excited to see how much we can decorate the house and make it our own in the time that we will be there.

Marvelous Mumbai

On Tuesday morning, Priya, Eric, Felicia and I departed the village of Kadod for a two-day trip to Mumbai (Bombay).  We took a bumpy bus to Surat where we caught a train to Mumbai. It was an enjoyable trip and rejuvenating break from the village.

We have all been quite busy since we arrived here seven weeks ago, so the outing was extremely refreshing for all of us.  We are all anxious to get out and see as much of India as we can and we finally had an opportunity to see a new place.  The train ride was fun as we all shared a sleeper cabin.  We each had our own small bed, so we were able to enjoy a short nap in the air-conditioning and we played several games of Monopoly Deal while munching on our favourite snacks of Mango Lays and Tiger Glucose biscuits.

When we arrived to Mumbai after our four-hour train ride, we had several hours to go out and see the city, since on conference started the following morning.  We hopped in a rickshaw and headed to Bandra, one of the more "happening" areas of the city.  We stepped out of the monsoon rain and into Coffee Bean and Tea Leave, a famous American coffee shop and enjoyed a delicious cup of freshly brewed coffee.  After the rains subsided, we headed back outside and towards the local train station, to catch the local line to Colaba, the area home to the Gateway of India and the well-known Taj Hotel.

The local train was quite a different experience from our earlier train ride. No air-conditioning, no seats and no doors! We hung onto the bars and watched the city fly by us as we stuck our heads out of the moving train. After reaching Colaba, we hopped on a bus to Indigo Deli, a must-visit restaurant.  We ordered the most tasty burgers and barbecued chicken sandwiches that we've tasted in months.  We sat back, completely full and so happy to have had a little taste of America. We even ventured down the street to a popular pub and shared an ice-cold pitcher of Kingfisher beer.

The following morning, we woke and had breakfast with Priya's family who lives in the city.  Her aunt is an excellent cook and sent us the conference with full bellies from a hearty breakfast. When we reached the Orchid Hotel, the venue for the conference, we were once again in awe of the extravagance we haven't seen in quite awhile.  Here we were at a five-star hotel with an elegant fountain in the center of the lobby.  We were rushed to the conference room and given big binders of material and shown to our seats.

The conference was held for English teachers in mostly the Mumbai area.  It included information on the TOEFL examination, the exam international students take to be accepted to universities abroad.  The exam tests students in four main areas- reading, writing, speaking, and listening. Throughout the conference, we learned different strategies to stress each area in the classroom. Although we are only teaching standard 8 and standard 9, students who are not ready for college, we do target these main areas in our Spoken English classes, so the presentation was extremely helpful. In addition, we learned about the exam content and how we can prepare our students if they ever decide they want to study abroad in the future.  The key speaker, Emilie Pooler, from the United States, did an excellent job of giving us examples and interactive activities throughout the workshop.  We even had the opportunity to talk to her personally over a scrumptious buffet lunch.  We asked her several questions about ideas we could try in our Spoken English classes. She offered many great suggestions.




The conference ended at 5:00pm and we hopped in a taxi and sped back to the train station to make the 6:00 Express train back home.  Luckily, we arrived 20 minutes early and conveniently there was a McDonald's across the street.  We enjoyed one last taste of western food before a train ride back to the village.  All in all, it was a great experience in the big city.