the visiting Americans: a comparison

On Tuesday, I visited a village school with a group of students from the history department at the college, and Agatha's class received a visit from a group of Americans.

 

Agatha's class-- indeed, the whole middle school, because Henry knew about it, too-- had been told for days that a group of Americans was coming to visit and everything had to be ship-shape. Agatha tells this story best, full of hilarious details. I won't be able to do it justice, but elements in the story include painting the floors of the classroom overnight to prepare, which led to terrible (and likely brain-rotting) paint fumes in the classroom on the Big Day, which led to a scramble for air freshener, which led to a scramble for a second air freshener after the first one was deemed inadequate, which led to the children's eyes stinging and tearing from all the smells and fumes in the room, which led to the teachers chastising them to "wipe your faces; the Americans will think you're sad!" Potted plants were brought from another classroom to spruce it up. Books were carefully arranged.

They were so proud of the results, that the teacher WhatsApp'd all the parents photos later.

There was going to be a maths lesson for the demonstration. The Americans were running late, though, so instead of starting the lesson, the teacher just stood there with the principal anxiously standing by, looking out the door every few minutes, waiting. Finally the lesson began, and Agatha said it was the most fun and interactive activity she's had at the school, involving doing a survey on color preferences and then making a series of charts and other data visualizations. The Americans finally arrived about halfway through. Agatha was expecting a family, perhaps visiting to see if they wanted to attend. She had joked about standing up and yelling, "get out now! save yourself!" But no, it was a group of six or eight "investors," as Agatha described them, led by a local benefactor of the school, with whom they were apparently business associates. A bunch of rich guys, Agatha said; you could tell they weren't teachers and didn't know kids because they said goofy things like "Hi guys!" and waved. They sat at the back of the room for about 10 minutes and then they left. And that was it. For Agatha, all this was an object lesson in the way her school cares deeply about appearances and reputation, rather than what is real. She does not like this. Although she is making the best of it, enjoying Hindi and learning a lot about the British Raj, making friends, and doodling a lot to pass the time, she really does not like her Indian school. She made herself an advent calendar, counting down the remaining days. Luckily, there aren't too many, because exams begin March 11 and we've decided our kids don't need to take any exams. The schedule is for two weeks, the children stay home one day to study and the next day go in for a 2-3 hour exam, then go home and start over with a new subject. We are going to Rajasthan instead.

 As it happened, I also made a school visit on Tuesday. Monday evening I got a text saying that there was a bus trip with history to their "social prog." and did I want to attend? Yes! I said, even though I didn't understand what any of that really meant. But one of the things I really admire about the college is that every single department does social justice or outreach work. The physics department assembled thousands of LED bulbs in their lab last fall and donated them to people affected by the floods (in fact, the college housed and fed 1500 people during the floods). This was part of history's contribution, and I was both eager to attend and glad to be included in something as an observer, not a lecturer. As I think I've said before, it works best to say "yes" and turn yourself over to people you trust and not try to figure things out too exactly.

Still, I was confused when my colleagues were talking in animated Malayalam for an extended period around when I thought we should be getting on the bus. What was happening? I heard my name. I just sat and waited to be told what to do. I took this photo while I was trying to figure it out.

Finally, three people went off to do something else and the remaining two said, "time to go, Amelia!" and off we went. We rode on a public bus, which was exciting! It would have been impossible to do on my own. All the signage is in Malayalam so I would never know which bus to get on, and the system by which you pay and get a colored ticket is completely baffling, even though I was watching people do it while I sat there. Plus when your bus comes you need run towards it and scramble up before it drives away. The conductor is yelling urgently the whole time. Sometimes people jump on and off and the bus never even comes to a stop. Of course my colleagues told me exactly what to do, where to sit, paid my ticket, and told me when it was time to get ready to jump off.

We rode out to a more rural outlying area, only about 5 miles from the college but much less urbanized. This is a government school, but it is on the grounds of a huge Catholic church.

What I gathered was that the history students had gotten the lesson from the children's textbooks and prepared visual aids and so on, and then went to teach the lesson. I believe they had gone the day before as well, so it was a two-day unit. There were ten girls split into two five-girl teams to teach in the two 6th grade classrooms.

  I understood the lesson was about tribal people in India (one classroom was "English," which meant only that the key words were in English; all instruction was in Malayalam.)

 This is the reading corner in the English classroom; as far as I could tell almost all the books were in Malayalam and about 75% were religious.

 The students did a great job, and the atmosphere was warm and fun. You could see how much the children enjoyed interacting with the college students, and how positive such role models can be for them. I could see that the instructional style was just what my kids have told me about their classrooms: there's a lesson in the book, and the teacher goes over it word for word. The keywords from the lesson are written on the board and recited back to the teacher, sometimes in a call-and-response style. And those key words and phrases are inscribed in the child's notebook exactly. When the children get too loud, the teacher raps on the desk or claps loudly.

I attempted to capture a few seconds of it to give you an idea:

I think the instructional style in the college is pretty similar, but I can't be sure since I haven't been able to participate in any real classes or observer anyone's class.

At a certain point the students were interrupted: it was time for the children to come out and have their milk. The government provides them breakfast and lunch, and they stay for a full day, till 3:30 or so, not the truncated no-lunch schedule my kids are on. Plus twice a week they get milk and once a week, an egg.

They looked healthy and fit and lively, as kids should. I was very impressed with this little school. I don't think they put on a show for the visiting American, like Henry's and Agatha's school did, though I guess I can't know that for sure. They seemed to be doing about as much instruction and of about the same type as my kids' much wealthier and more expensive school. The facility was very simple, but the textbooks were the same and the government was putting resources into their nutrition and health. It was loud and fun and warm and organized. Keralans are very proud of the high literacy and low poverty of their state, and it seemed like I saw a good example of why that is on my visit.