Sat Sri Akal

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Teacher Day

Sat Sri Akal….(God is Truth and Immortal-Sikh Punjabi),

My journey here continues to get better and more enriching every day. The Dhatt family is being more than gracious. The family has lost their two servants, as they left to return for Nepal, so the majority of household duties have fallen on Maina and Jasmine. This apparently is quite the adjustment. I am reminded that when people have servants for their whole life almost, then they become quite upset when there is no help around. A new maid started yesterday and she seems fine, although she didn’t show up for her evening shift tonight. Unreliable help Maina says is common. The women here could not fathom what the average North American woman or man might take on as far as domestic duties are concerned. I think there would be a revolt of some sort.

I am having some difficulty adjusting to the idea of maids, servants and drivers. I understand that wealthier households employ people who would otherwise be unemployed, but it is not what I am accustom too. I always have a soft spot for the underdog and so I cannot help but feel somewhat uncomfortable with “being served.” I am the type to sit and chat and make friends with the servants and offer them tea rather than them serving me…so this is an uncomfortableness I am having to endure. So many thoughts go through my mind about the true meaning of Sikhism as a religion which emphasizes equality for all, to Gandhi’s message about abolishing the caste system, to my own ideals about the human condition and a harmonious world. India is definitely an interesting place whereby those whose roots were in villages as impoverished people not so long ago, are now far removed in some ways from the mindset they lead today. I have some odd feelings as to the class system here. I am not accustom to it of course coming from a society that promotes equality and for the most part where the playing field is somewhat more even…at least in opportunity.

Amritsar is a modern city of sorts. I have become used to dirt, garbage, run down shops and store fronts, auto rickshaws, donkeys and cows on the street, stray dogs, bicycle rickshaws and the sight of centuries old, non-mechanical rural practices mixed with modern ways as “just the way it is in India.” In India, there are few mechanized ways of doing things, instead, there is labour. So, for example, instead of lawn mowers or trimming machines for city grassed areas, there are men with machetes (in hot weather …phew). Instead of cars, there are bicycle rickshaws. Instead of dishwashers, vacuums, dryers, food processors, wash and wear garments, there are servants doing all the work. No wonder the women’s clothes here look impeccable…there are people doing ironing up the road on the street for a minimal fee. Instead of dump trucks and delivery trucks there are carts and donkeys. Anything one needs to be done as far as a service in India, it can be found. It employs people and keeps energy costs down. I keep waiting for the neat and clean city scapes I am used to but have determined, this is not India. The noise and hustle and bustle of trying to make my way during the day in the heat is typical. Honking horns, diesel smoke of black plumes spewing from trucks, and the rush of a million things going on at once in the city is “normal” here and doesn’t phase anyone who has grown up here. Most higher class people sit idle at home during the hot months while servants and the masses slave in the heat. It is at once chaotic and stimulating…so much candy for the eyes. But time and time again, I am struck by the struggle of the masses. The inequality is disturbing.

My Uncle Saroop does a great deal of volunteering and belongs to many organizations. Since it is Teacher’s Day here in a few days, my uncle wanted me to go with him to meet a teacher who is nominated for a Rotary Club Award. Saroop wanted me to have input and evaluate the teacher since I am a teacher. I felt this was a task I could not effectively undertake, but he assured me I would be fine. My uncle said this teacher taught at a village school not far from Amritsar.,

We arrived at the village of Balapind and the small school. Driving up, I could see rural life and the conditions of a “typical” village. I have seen these throughout India, and it is where 70% of the population lives. Although not in shock now by the complete lack of facilities, what keeps running through my mind are thoughts of my dad. I keep seeing him here in every little boy I meet. It is quite intense and emotional. It is not a sad emotion for the children here are happy…they are joyous and innocent. The outside world has not affected them and the life they lead is very simple and meek. Of course this village was compromised of brick buildings, always red brick, set amongst narrow lanes and pathways. There is no pavement or facilities. It is dusty and dirt. There is electricity, but not all houses have it. Again, the darkness and dim settings is the norm when I get a glimpse of the inside of these dwellings. Of course there are people going about their daily routine from sweeping dirt and dust with these short handled straw brooms that are everywhere in India including the richest of homes, to harvesting greenery for cows, donkeys and goats with scythes, to repairing or building a building, to drinking chai (tea- a multiple daily occurrence), to cooking over coals, cow dung or portable propane stoves, to hanging things to dry on a clothesline. I totally know now why I never see Indians camping in North America…life in the villages is primitive and is akin to permanent “camping.” It is a difficult way of life with no conveniences whatsoever. Villagers are very impoverished, and have very few opportunities. It seems little has changed here in centuries.

The elementary and high school are right next to each other. There are about 150 kids in the elementary school which has two classrooms and three teachers, but I am told they need five teachers. This particular school is in dire need of teachers, but since it is a government school, as opposed to the many private schools, teachers do not want the underpaid, overworked positions. One class of students were under a tree learning their lessons and the other two were in the school building. The classrooms were crowded, and very undersupplied. There are bench type desks where 4 students cram into a small space to share the desk. Boys sit on one side of the class, and girls on the other. The teacher we went to observe was more than overjoyed that we had come to visit. He had no idea he was nominated for an award. He said it was his duty to teach the students and that he loved his job. He is a young teacher named Davinder Kumar Sharma and he is about 30 years old. He has come from a village himself and was actually taking his Master’s degree…which is an amazing feat for this young man. The respect and obedience of the students was unbelievable. I think to our school system and the lack of respect our students have towards teachers. The kids were shy at first and awe struck at our visit. They happen to lighten up and then I could see how happy they were. It was a total joy to be in their presence. They were all so beautiful. I was completely inspired. The conditions and facilities of the schools are deplorable. The entire structure of Indian society is very complicated and frustrating for a westerner. The underprivileged are “stuck” in their caste even though Sikhs say they do not adhere to the caste system. Ha ha ha…this is the furthest thing from the truth. Although there is some leeway to move up the status ladder, the judgments, stereotyping, discrimination and most of all disrespect of the lower classes is incomprehensible to me. It is disappointing and a part of India I detest.

Anyways, we observed and talked to the teacher for some time and I was more than convinced that the award should go to him…he is so dedicated, devoted and full of love for these children. He is an inspiration to all teachers and community members. The children love him dearly and he goes well beyond his prescribed duties as an educator. He is all heart. He definitely deserves the Teacher’s Day Award there is no doubt. The village children are the most grateful, respectful, innocent and nicest kids I have met.

Two days later…My Uncle Saroop’s Amritsar South Rotary Club held its Teacher Day Celebration and I was the Guest of Honour! Before the ceremony, I decided to put together a large package of school supplies to give as a gift to the village school I visited. So, Jasmine and I found a stationary/school supply store and I bought about 100 exercise books, many packs of pencil crayons, erasers, really cool sharpener free pencils the kids will love, sharperners, and funky stickers. I received a donation from some teachers and friends so this is the money that I used for this gift. At the ceremony, my uncle was the Master of Ceremonies and spoke of Radhakrishna’s (great Indian philosopher/politician) life here in India and his philosophy of education. There were five teachers honoured and each gave great talks of which were exactly what my speech was about also. So, when it became my turn to talk, I kinda disregarded my prepared speech and improvised saying some very inspiring things about the teacher I observed and my philosophy of education. My uncle wanted me to talk about the Olympics and how sport might be good for rural kids, but this was a difficult bridge for me. I really do not agree that elite sport has any place with these impoverished children so instead I talked of the original Olympic spirit and how athletes performed in honour of the divine spirit; I also spoke of nurturing students’ God given gifts and promoting personal excellence in anything from art, to dance, to cooking ,to sport, to academics…this was the way I bridged this topic. It seemed to go over well. My uncle introduced me by giving a brief, and glowing account of my academic, sport and spiritual pursuits and I was overwhelmed with the interest and honouring I received. I felt a little awkward, as I was the visitor and this day was not suppose to be about me. Anyways, people from abroad seem to be a fascination here.

The next day, which is really Teacher’s Day, September 5, the Inner Wheel Women’s branch of the rotary club had a presentation at a village school that they sponsor. So, we went to honour the teachers at this one room government school. Again, the conditions of the school were terrible, but the children adorable. Most of the presentations to the teachers were done in the dark as the power was out. The children sat in rows on the ground. This school did not have desks. I sat along with the students and they were all smiles…teachers DO NOT do this…so this was something so different for them. Again I made a small speech, asked the kids some questions while my Aunt Maina translated . I then handed out the awards. Again, I was honoured with a beautiful Indian wooden bowl…and again, it was awkward, as the purpose was for us to honour the teachers, not me! So, the kids were brought some fruit, snacks and sweets (ladoos) and I left feeling the joyous energy of the students once again. I so wish I spoke Punjabi; it is a big regret I did not learn. So far, I feel like a celebrity…not a feeling I ever was comfortable with. It seems there are lots of people who would like me to visit there club or school now! My old swimming persona and identity is not escaping me and it turns out I must relive this time of my life again and again…I suppose I cannot run from it and must just accept it. Part of me is surrendering to my accomplishments being recognized, as the hard work and dedication is a celebration of my character and my persistent value of personal excellence. More importantly, my accomplishments have given me some privilege in the public sphere to promote good in the world. For this reason only will I accept such attention.

Tomorrow we will visit the Golden Temple…a lifelong dream of mine.

Bye, Leila

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