Almost two weeks in
Good news is we found a great flat and our furniture is being moved today. We aren’t sure yet how AIF will help us financially as we had to incur some costs for the deposit, etc. but we moved and have a safe, well ventilated flat on the 2nd floor of a home. Feeling a little closer to being settled in--thankfully!
As for my ‘work’ in the last two weeks I’ve mostly sat and surfed the Internet and read documents. But I’ve also visited several schools (both rural and urban), attended several meetings and almost have a project proposal—but not quite.
The best part of the rural school visits: getting out of Chennai and riding a bicycle around a village.
The worst part of the urban school visits: being witness to corporeal punishment over and over and over again.
Rural Visit:
The first school visit was very exciting because I got out of the office and out of Chennai with my co-worker. We chatted on the commuter train, shared food and got to know each other. When we turned up in Minjur (a community North of Chennai) we took an auto to the NGO office and met the representative. She showed us to our bikes and off we went. Cycling through villages is always amusing, especially for my co-worker who enjoyed not being the center of attention. She translated for me some of the comments expressing ‘awe and surprise to see a foreigner’ from the villagers as we cycled by. But she didn’t translate everything, and that is probably for the best. We visited two schools, both one-room classrooms with one teacher. The students were busy with the ABL (activity-based learning) program when we arrived but put their cards away and prepared for their English class. My co-worker and I observed the lesson as the representative and sometimes the homeroom teacher taught. Ideally, there is a CD component to each lesson and the schools have been supplied CD players and speakers. Sadly, one school’s CD player broke and the other was having problems with the connection. The storybook was also left at the office, so the representative improvised and demonstrated a semi-typical lesson. At both schools we were served bright orange Mirinda—sugary sweet orange soda.
In Japan I was always the one teaching, with others watching! Now, I’m the one sitting in the back observing. I decided against taking notes since it was my first visit and I really am in learning mode. There were about 25-30 students in both classrooms of various ages. They were pretty eager to participate. They stood up and spoke when asked. They played pass the parcel. They identified corresponding flashcards. And they practiced introducing themselves. Interesting overall!
Finally we watched a focus lesson, which was similar to the first but with the audio component included. After the sugar high of the Mirinda and seeing a similar lesson for the 3rd time, I almost passed out. The ‘ladies compartment’ of the train coming back was packed and we stood most of the way. It was fun to watch the female venders get on and off with all their goods—selling to everyone in the car. The most popular item on this particular trip were the banana stems and flowers, they were going like hotcakes.
Urban Visit:
One of my co-workers teaches a focus class at a local government primary school in the same neighborhood as our office. I asked to observe her lesson to learn more about her approach, the kids, the school and what might or might not work in the Indian classroom setting. She has been teaching phonics everyday afterschool for 1-hour to a group of 4th standard students. And what a group they are. I’ve never seen anything like it…except for one of my classes in Japan that was highlighted on national TV for its misbehaving: throwing chairs, sleeping, swearing, hitting, yelling, etc. The class that I observed here brought back the horrors of teaching that group of students in Japan. The children in this class were throwing water bottles, pencils, pens, and even each other. They were hitting, kicking, punching, and pulling hair. They were talking, yelling, screaming and so engaged with other activities I couldn’t hear the teacher at the front in a small classroom. I lost count of how many times my co-worker had to go and fetch the head mistress, their homeroom teacher or another teacher to quiet them down. In each case, they brought a stick or ruler with them and hit whoever was acting up on the hand, arm, shoulder, back, head or leg. The kids would wince and quiet down for a second, but as soon as the teacher left the room, they would be back at it again. I never saw a student cry from the pain of being hit, apparently they are used to it. Shockingly, my co-worker uses the same method although had even less authority over the students.
Knowing that my presence alone was probably contributing to their acting up even more, I dared not say or do anything. I just had to sit by and watch it happen over and over again. It was both brutal to watch and legitimate brutality toward the children. Honestly, I would want to drop out too if my teachers treated me like that. Given that most of the kids come from impoverished families probably living in slums and have life experience beyond their age, their need for appropriate attention is critical. But the schools are understaffed and corporeal punishment is seen as the only way of managing the problem, creating a cycle of abuse, neglect and acting out.
I had grand ideas of teaching myself. But this has made me think twice about it. Let’s see what happens. But maybe staying in the office isn’t such a bad thing.
Food, toilets, clothing norms, bugs, etc. aside, these are the real issues that make living and working in another cultural context difficult.
In addition to the election excitement last week, I attended an inauguration for a new computer center at a boys high school in central Chennai. Without getting caught up in too many details, American India Foundation (AIF) has a program called Digital Equalizer that focuses on increasing the digital learning opportunities in disadvantaged schools as a way of equalizing educational opportunities and quality across the socio-economic divide. In the last few months, AIF has started its DE program in Tamil Nadu in conjunction with the government. All of the districts selected for this program are tsunami-affected areas in the coastal region. However, an international company called Applied Materials has funded two DE computer centers in urban government aided schools in Chennai.
It was the inauguration of one of the centers that I attended last week. It also happens that Applied Materials funds several AIF Service Corps Fellowships, and my fellowship is one they fund. Before the inauguration I met with the Applied Materials Corporate Responsibility CEO to discuss AIF Service Corps and to tell him about my projects as well as what several other fellows are doing during their fellowship. The meeting took place in the Applied Materials corporate office in Chennai—a far cry from my NGO office environment. They had 5 levels of security: under the car check, building guard and sign-in, office security door, sign-in at front desk (including computers) and finally the security door into the office space. It was a large floor full of cubicles, conference rooms, and had a cafeteria with employees playing table tennis. We met in the conference room and had a friendly informal discussion in conjunction with a Power Point presentation I made. He was quickly whisked off to another meeting while the DE staff and I drove off to the school to prepare for the inaugural event.
During our morning meeting, the CEO was told the inauguration would be a ‘simple’ event. I turned to him and said “It depends on your definition of simple”. He smiled and agreed that in his 2 days of being in India, he realized that ‘simple’ has an entirely different meaning here. As expected, it wasn’t so ‘simple’ from a foreigner’s perspective. But the actual inauguration was somewhat what I expected. It involved lots of pomp and circumstance and formalities. As the guests from DE and Applied Materials entered, the children were lined up on both sides of the drive-way in uniform, some saluting and others playing instruments. Next was a quick meeting and introductions in the principal’s office. Followed by a quick and unclimatic ribbon cutting and tour of the computer center. Finally everyone was ushered into the gym where 300-400 boys were anticipating the pain of endless dry speeches. All of the chief guests, and guests of lesser importance (Prev and I included) sat on the stage in front of the students as we all listened to speech after speech inaugurating their first ever computer center. While the event itself did bring a few yawns to the guests and the crowd, it was very exciting to think that from now on these students will have access (although limited, 10 computers for 1000 students) to the digital world. Even by learning a few applications, programs and how to access the internet their prospects for further education and jobs will mulitple and everyone assumes it will only benefit their self-worth, self-confidence and self-esteem! This is just one of about 150 similar centers that have just opened in the last few months across the state...it is an momentous time for education in Tamil Nadu!
After the 'chief guests' had been ushered away, the students were back in their classrooms and the excitement had died down, I found myself sitting on the steps of the school chatting with teachers and administrators. The conversation centered around two topics: my limited (although apparently impressive) knowledge of Madurai Tamil and my marital status. They could not get over the fact that I speak several words of Tamil with a very clearly Madurai accent. And the fact that I am 30 years old and unmarried (gasp!) left them in a state of shock, even referring to me as a 'spinster' at one point. I tried to explain that in the US it was really everyone's choice what age they wanted to marry at, but they just wouldn't have it. I've missed my chance in India terms. More on that and living as a 'white' woman in India in a later post....lots to reflect about!
