Friday, January 16, 2009

School in India


Imagine an American "junior" college student living on campus and seeing monkeys scampering in the treetops above, parrots flying overhead and cricket being played just outside his dorm room.

Then imagine no air conditioning in their dorm rooms or the classrooms, outside open-air toilets and sinks, no computers, shared wooden desks, blackboards for teaching aides, and you will have some idea of St. Joseph's Junior College, which is next door to the Bishop's House. If you think I am describing some ancient, crumbling institution you'd be wrong. They keep trying to update, but they are doing the best they can.

Eight hundred students live and study here and are happy for the opportunity. They do their own washing and sleep on iron cots, just like me but I get my own room. They are in large dorms. There are no amenities.

I have met the college students who are being sponsored by foreigners as part of my work here and they are serious about their studies and grateful that someone is helping them with the finances. Most of them look like 8th graders, they are so small of stature, so thin. The grade school children are positively tiny, all due to the lack of good nutrition. I look like the Giantess from the Harry Potter movies. If you were to say that I am "head and shoulders" above the Indians, you'd be literally correct.

I have been to three grade schools in the surrounding area so far, each one is run by Catholic nuns. But unlike the Muslim schools here, the schools are open to all and the Catholic religion is not taught, nor are children expected to convert. For village children, this is their only option to attend school.

Preschool starts at age 3 and English is taught right from the start. They have found that this is a better way to teach language than waiting until they are older. In addition to English, the children must also learn to read and write in their own language, Telegu, and Hindi, the national language. Imagine having to be proficient in three languages if you can.

The classrooms look like abandoned buildings at best and like ancient ruins at their worst. There is a blackboard at the front. If you are really lucky, you share a desk in the upper grades. The first school I went to had no desks, K through 8th grade. The teacher stands, the children sit on the floor. All day. Every day. They bring their lunch from home. School starts at 9:00 and finishes at 4:00. Some come by school van. If they are lucky they don't have far to travel. Other children leave home at 7:30 and return home at 5:30. Tough day for a three year old.

The schools are recognized as accredited by the Indian government, but they receive no funding from either the government or the Catholic diocese. The fees charged are nominal but the students must also purchase uniforms and a few supplies. Those that are sponsored are from families who can't afford even that small amount.

My first assignment was to go to these schools and find the children that were sponsored so that we could update their paperwork. They must present proof of their grades and payment of expenses. In addition they had to all write thank you letters to their foreign sponsors. these letters will be translated into English then sent with a photograph of the students. With all the scams in the world, Americans have become so cynical. My first thoughts are always that these "sponsor-a- child" programs just had good marketing programs. They picture kids with dark, sad eyes, looking so innocent in their dusty uniforms in front of buildings that look abandoned, standing in front of young teachers wearing colorful saris. Yeah, right.

But I met these children and their parents in some cases. I met the teachers. I spent all day with them. They never asked me for money. They were all excited to meet someone from the outside who was interested in them. Some wanted autographs, some want to practice their English, some just want to shake hands. They giggle, push each other, ask "what is your name?", "what is your husband's name?" "Where are you from?" I repeat the same answers over and over as I meet the children. I'm getting better at engaging them each time we go out.

More later. I am out of light to work.

No comments:

Post a Comment