THE RIGHT TO EDUCATION IN INDIA (3rd part): SURESH, MASTER

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Suresh is 30 years old and lives in Jibhi, a small town in the Banjar Valley, the state of Himachal Pradesh in northern India. Suresh is married and has one child of three years. His wife is studying a computer course in Kullu, the district centre about 60 klms away. He is master of the school Ghiyagi, and about thirty minutes from his home (half of which can be reached by foot only).

Paul, my partner, met Suresh two years ago. It was a very cold day when Paul was walking to the Ghiyagi dhaba for breakfast and the teacher had picked him up on his bike and they had a chai together. A few days later Suresh invited Paul to make a visit to the school and join them for their cooked lunch (the school has a cook to do this each day for the children).



Today we visited the school again. After 20 minutes walking up a steep slope, we reached the white and blue building. Suresh and another guy (maybe the cook? Maybe a friend?) sat outside the school, with their legs up and chatting. They rose quickly to greet and acknowledge us with respect. Their conversation together was abruptly over and Suresh asked us to go inside. The children were gathered in small groups in different parts of the school, including the only indoor classroom. Children worked independently (or at least that's what appeared to have been the case me, a Western teacher) reading or writing things. Many of them were idling the day away or joking around with some friend.



When we came to the classroom, interestingly, the children had left. Perhaps it was clear to them that we could not understand Hindi. We started to talk casually to Suresh. After 5 minutes he offered Paul a piece of charis (the concentrated resin from marijuana plants used for smoking with tobacco). Obvious to us it was no appropriate to smoke at the school (even if we had wanted to) but it felt right to accept the gift.



The school Ghiyagi school has 20 children between 5 and 10 years working under two teachers, Suresh and his cousin. When children are 10 years must pass onto the higher school at Jibhi. Even though we know that the children start the lessons at 9:30am, still now I don’t know when they finish because the two teachers didn’t agree about the time; one said at 3pm and the other one at 3.30pm....



Suresh started working there 3 years ago after doing a teaching course in Bhuntar (near Kullu). I was interested in the duration of the study he underwent and, initially, I was pleasantly surprised when he said "2 years". But the illusion was short lived because he then pointed out that there were only 45 training days a year. I wonder if corruption also came into play to facilitate formal graduation .... It would not surprise me at all.



I had a look at the classroom with its small fireplace in the middle (tandori), which accommodates all children of school during the winter. In the class there were a few posters with the alphabet and vocabulary on the wall. Some were written in Hindi, others in English. I also looked at some of the student’s books. I was not surprised to see lines and lines of copy and repetition of letters, numbers or meaningless phrases.



At 1.30pm Suresh had invited us to stay for lunch at the school. We moved the chairs outside the classroom and we sat on the terrace overlooking the stretch of forest that students use as a play ground. Soon several children offered us chai. After a while another group of children arrived with dishes of rice, dahl and water. Whenever we needed something the teacher called a student and he commanded him to bring whatever (spoons, more dahl or water). I, meanwhile, felt embarrassed and could not understand why we could not help ourselves.



The break for play after lunch had been extended because, explained Suresh, we were special guests and he needed to attend to us. We talked about the differences between being a teacher in Ghiyagi compared to in Catalonia. Suresh was interested and surprised when I said that teachers in Catalonia have 25 children in each classroom. The picture he has about teachers in Europe is that they work hard, the Shanti, Shanti (Hindi word which translated would be "calm and quiet") he is used to here in Ghyagi which he so likes, would, he thought, not work there.



Suresh was interested a theme that is repeated in general discussions with teachers all over India on wage levels (in this case specifically in teacher salary). When I explained the basic teacher salary in Spain, he quickly grabbed his mobile and calculated the amount in rupees. He said "very satisfactory" while he lit his face. A trained teacher in India gets between 20,000 and 30,000 rupees a month which would is between 330 and 500 euros per month. I find that is not bad if you value what the basic cost of living is in India.



We tried to talk about thr new government Act which guarantees the right of education for all children up to 14 but I couldn’t work out the present situation at Gyaghi’s school. It seems that all the children in the school are able to pay the cost of the school (which is not much because it’s a government school) and the cost of getting there (which is nil because the kids go there on foot). So, it looks like this new Act doesn’t have much impact or relevance in this small village in Himachal Pradesh.



When there were 30 minutes left before the end of the school day, Suresh and his cousin made them re-enter school and they were given a task that we didn’t understood. After a few minutes the children have started to line up with their books in front of the teacher so that they could have their exercises corrected. Paul and I got involved doing some corrections to English repetition work. Basically the task was to copy the alphabet in Hindi and another in English. I asked one of the girls to show me her book and if she was able to read the letters to me from her book. She looked at me as if a stoned fish. Thinking that I had not properly been understood in English by her, I asked Suresh to translate it in Hindi but the response was the same. Suresh explained that she did not understand or know how to read, only to copy. Suresh took the stance of one who simply accepts the shortcoming in this student (no responsibility as the teacher!).



Paul was interested in hearing the opinion of Suresh after a comment he had heard from me several times: "In the classrooms of schools in India that I have seen, they only learn by rote and are not taught to problem solve." Suresh simply agreed saying, "No, these children do not know how to think." I stopped gobsmacked. Suddenly, Suresh asked what time it was because he was keen to leave with us to have a chai with friends in the village.



Since I arrived in Mumbai a month and a half ago, I never stop thinking of this new law on the right to education in India. My opinions, thoughts and questions have been changing since hearing about this new law. Right now, looking at the small school Ghiyagi, I would say that there is a very hight need to put serious time and effort into the selection and training of teachers. Further, if you do not control what happens inside schools, the new law will have no real effect on the proper education of India’s children.



(Paul Drielsma, thank you for the edits!)

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