In the little primary school in Perani where we worked, money is of course a problem. Going there with students from an international school put things into stark contrast. The base of the four walls of the classroom is painted black. The black area is about three and a half feet high. One of the services students from my school rendered was to paint vertical white lines on the black area of the wall to divide it into sections. "We often fall short of notebooks," we were informed. "So, the children have slates to work with at home. Here in school, the black wall becomes their slate." The students measured and painted the white lines. For their work, they were thanked profusely by teachers and students alike. The next day, it was somehow heartwarming to see that the children had already started working on their new-found blackboards. One of my students commented, "In our school, we … [Read more...]
Painting Gates
Children are morbid. There's no other word for it sometimes. A little boy, Tamilbaradhi, was watching a student of mine painting a gate. "Don't touch the gate," I warned him. He nodded, knowingly, but seemed to expect me to say more. "The beautiful, freshly painted gate will get spoilt," I clarified. Tamilbaradi frowned. That was not what he expected. "My hand will get stuck to it," he said, eagerly. Fresh oil paint, small child (about three years old) - I agreed. "Yes, your hand will get stuck to it." "And I will never be able to pull it away," continued Tamilbaradi, happily. I paused. "And then, my hand will have to be cut off for me to be free!" he pronounced, delighted. This from a three-year old child. Children are morbid. … [Read more...]
Half an Egg
Last week, I was at Pondicherry with 56 students and 4 colleagues. We volunteered to work for Habitat for Humanity, building a road, painting houses and painting gates, among other things. It was an experience of a lifetime. Working with my students at a primary school, we witnessed the mid-day meal. The midday meal proudly provides not just rice and a watery dish of pulses, but also an egg. On our first day at the midday meal, we watched a child distributing an egg to each child. There were three eggs short. Six children got only half an egg. No one complained. In fact, two children raised their hand and volunteered to take just half. My eyes moistened. I was with students who threw plates full of food away if they did not like it. The next day, I was at the midday meal once more. And once more there were too few eggs. The boy distributing the eggs counted and gave four children half … [Read more...]
After the Story Games
With the One-Word-Story-Game and the One-Phrase-Story-Game, my purpose was to point out how powerless we feel when we can't control language. I spoke about different aspects of language as power and why we feel more in control when we have a whole phrase to ourselves, rather than a single word. Then, I moved to the third group and whispered to them, "I want you to explain 'triangle' without using the words 'sides' and 'three'." The students thought about it for a while. Finally, they said, "This is a closed figure, closely associated with Bermuda." Of course it was clear enough. The other students got it very easily. I smiled. "Wouldn't it have been easier to draw it?" They hadn't thought of it. And thinking about why they hadn't thought of it perhaps brings us to what Theory of Knowledge tries to do. … [Read more...]
Language
Teaching Language as a Way of Knowing, I wanted to introduce to my students what a powerful tool language is. In keeping with that, I also wanted to bring out how powerless you feel when you don't have control over a language. So I played some stuff that I learned at the Storytelling workshop I attended recently. The first round was the One-Word-Story-Game. In a group, each participant is allowed to contribute just one word at a time. It's particularly frustrating when you know you can't contribute something meaningful. For instance, suppose you're third in the group. The first person says 'Once'. The second person says 'upon'. How much choice do you have? I wanted students to experience this powerlessness that comes with limited language. So, I made a group of six play it. I asked them to create all of four sentences to make a story. The theme was magic. "Creativity ..." "... lived … [Read more...]
Dashami
Yes, I know many would disagree and say that tomorrow is Dashami, not today. But we celebrated it today. Last year, my dance teacher was not here, and somehow, we put things together and managed. (In the south, Dashami is a Big Deal. We start our year of education on Dashami. Coming just after Saraswati Pooja, we pray to excel in dance, music and academia. With my teacher's devout prayers, the whole day is invested with a sense of solemn ceremony.) Last year, as I said, in her absence, we somehow managed. This year, thankfully, she was there. The problem, though, is that I teach so many of the children too. They call my sister and me 'Small Teacher', as opposed to my guru who is, of course, 'The Big Teacher'. (Though physically speaking, my teacher is the diminutive figure!) Once again, I had the stomach-churning experience of students touching my feet for my blessings. Okay, so I … [Read more...]
Running Wild
I don't usually like thick hardbound books. They are daunting and, usually, boring. As soon as I make that statement, though, I realise how many exceptions there are. Running Wild is one of them. It has pages and pages of description, but not once was I bored. Morpurgo, at the end of the book, talks of his motivation for this novel. He talks about The Jungle Book, about his fascination for elephants, about the Iraq war, the Indonesian tsunami and the impending extinction of orangutans. Running Wild brings together all these. After a long time, I felt rage, a lump in my throat, relief, joy and excitement in the course of a single story. I was excited about, filled with grief for, repelled by and at peace with the story of a young boy in a jungle in Indonesia. Oona the elephant won my heart over and over again making me wonder if it's possible to look at an … [Read more...]
Day Five – Reading was Fun!
And that was the end of that. Photographs will come soon, I'm sure. But right now, my head is filled with all kinds of thoughts. Children are like magpies. They love shiny things. All of them loved the golden tape I took with me to bind their work together. I thought they'd like to use ribbons, but golden tape won hands down. Children are affectionate in ways that adults can never be. One of the children stood at my elbow, rubbing his stomach on my arm. I cannot even begin to imagine an older child doing that. Children are unbelievably creative. Drawing, colouring, writing and sharing - team work seems to come naturally to most of them. Only one group yesterday found it difficult to work in a team. The best part, I think, was the fact that everyone was too excited with the workshop to be sad that it was over. One child wrote in her feedback form, "I don't think that the workshop was … [Read more...]
Day Four – Reading is Fun!
"Tomorrow, our last session, is going to have the most exciting activity of all!" I announced, at the end of today's session. "Ooh! What is it?" "What are we going to do?" "What is the activity for tomorrow?" "I'll tell you tomorrow!" I said, smiling. "So, how do you feel?" I expected them to say 'excited', 'enthusiastic', 'curious', 'eager' ... All of them, practically unanimously said, "We feel sad!" "The workshop is getting OVER!" one of them explained. I did not know whether to be happy or sad. … [Read more...]
Tikki tikki tembo
You know one of the most beautiful things about a storytelling workshop? I listened to so many stories! Here's one of them (not told by Nell, but by one of the workshop participants). Long, long ago, in a village in China, there lived a family with two sons. The elder son was called Tikki-tikki-tembo-no-sa-rembo-chari-bari-ruchi-pip-peri-pembo. The younger one was simply called Chang. One day, the two brothers were playing near the well. Suddenly, Chang fell into the well! The elder brother ran to his mother. "Mother, mother!" he cried. "Chang has fallen into the well!" "Quick!" cried his mother. "Go to the old man near the well and ask him for help!" So Tikki-tikki-tembo-no-sa-rembo-chari-bari-ruchi-pip-peri-pembo ran to the old man. "Old man, old man!" he cried. "Chang has fallen into the well!" Hurriedly, the old man got to his feet, took a ladder and rescued little Chang. And then, … [Read more...]
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