I am tempted to share some nuggets from my experiences of being in the education sector although at the periphery. Listen to this and you would wonder whether there is any hope at all of having a good schooling system in this country.
A higher secondary school teacher: "The different seasons are explained by the fact that earth has an orbit which is elliptical and when the earth is farthest from the sun it is winter and when closest it is summer."
A teacher in high school: "I did my BA not B.Sc. I do not know negative numbers."
More than fifty percent of teachers in a state in the central part of the country failed to clear 8th standard exams in Mathematics.
This one takes the cake. This is from a Maths teacher in the northwestern part of the country. "In our schools the method of proving that sum of angles of a triangle is proved by drawing a triangle, measuring the angles and summing them. But since the measuring instruments are not accurate, the sum generally becomes 178 or 181 or some such numbers. We ask the students to adjust the angle measurements to get the sum of 180."
This one would be a suprise for you as to why it is noteworthy. At least it was for me.
A teacher in a workshop in SCERT: "Hindi is our national language."
You might have read the issue of Saraswati Vandanas in schools in newspapers. I see them on a regular basis.
Going to the schools is once in a while a completely discouraging experiences. When you visit the schools, the teacher would offer water to you. Now the water will be brought to you by a child. The child will always be from the upper caste. There are huge issues in schools in this country where teachers ensure that during mid day meals children are seated separately according to their caste. There are teachers who would refuse to share food handled by lower caste children. But this should not surprise us. A look at the Malayala Manorama matrimonials would be sufficient to show us that the grip of caste is yet to be shaken off in this country.
But inspite of this, my interaction with teachers give a lot of hope to me. Engage with them deeply and you would find that most of them, like us, are struggling to live in ways which they believe are right. We may disagree with their understanding of what is right and wrong. But that to me is the foundation of hope. We will all make our mistakes and still add some value to someone.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The guns are coming home
Everyone of you might be aware of the terror attack in Mumbai. I am using this mail to add my two bits to the deluge of writings on it. On 26th of November,I had taken a cab from Pune along with a few colleagues of mine to reach Mumbai. We reached the Mumbai airport area around 10:15 PM. Here we split and went in different directions. I, along with a colleague of mine, headed to Borivili (which is in the opposite direction to the location of the seige) in an auto. As we were about twenty minutes into the auto ride, my colleague received a calll from his sister informing him of a bomb blast that happened in Vile Parle along the high way some time ago and some reported shooting in Colaba region. From her account it seemed that the blast had occured some twenty minutes after we left Vile Parle. Later we were told that my boss who was behind us in another taxi had actually witnessed the explosion happening about 20 metres in front of her. But the telephone call did not surprise us much as explosions were not unexpected in Mumbai and shootouts were also not unheard of in Colaba region. We did not realise that it was the beginning of a seige.
As I reached my friend's place in Borivili, I saw my friend intently listening to the news and it was then that I realised that what I had heard of earlier was no regular event but something much more terrible. I was worried and scared now because I had to catch an early morning flight the next day to Raipur and Vile Parle was very close to the airport. I continued watchnig the television as the gory assault unfolded on the television. Reports were streaming in with gory details. I watched until around 1 0' clock and then went to bed while my friend continued to watch. But not before sending a message to my parents to tell them that I was safe. After lying on the bed for sometime, sleep escaped my eyes and then I heard from the television in the next room that there were reports of shooting from Borivili also. My heart sank. I got up again and went in front of the television but there was not much being added on that front. After waiting for some time I again went to bed. By now I had serious reservations about going the next day. I tried calling my colleague who was to come along with me. But there were connectivity issues and the call did not go through. I was dead tired and I thought I will get some sleep for a couple of hours and then make a call on going. I slept for sometime and then woke up at around 4 O' clock. I switched on the television and began to realise the full extent of the event as I saw the Maharashtra CM on television calming the people in Mumbai but at the same time cautioning them. A statement from the government asking people to stay at home in case there are no urgent works was shown as a ticker on the television. However there did not seem to be any further reports on the attack in Borivili. I flipped through different channels to figure out the truth of the matter. But it drew a total blank. So I concluded that it was only a false alarm.
Now as the time for the flight was approaching I was struggling with the decision whether to go or not. The attacks had happened largely in South Mumbai which is quite far off from the airport. But there was also the report of a stray explosion close to the airport at Vile Parle. Also the style of the attack; mainly spraying bullets at people at random meant that the airport would be an ideal place for the attackers. There was not much stopping them at that point. But after imagining the worst possible scenarios in my mind I decided to go. I got ready and said a quick good bye to my half awake friend and headed out of the safe confines of the apartment. I tried to wave down a couple of autos. Both of them refused when they heard that the destination was the airport. After this I waved down a third one who agreed. As I headed to the airport, I continued praying for a safe passage.
As I reached the airport, I soon paid for the ride and walked quickly to the entrance to the airport where I showed my ticket and got inside. I heaved a sigh of relief as I knew that I had crossed the first line of defence and would be safe behind a line of CISF soldiers from now on. After the security check in I managed to be a bit calm as I waited for my flight. It was at that moment that I realised that the guns are coming home. What used to happen in the far away Kashmirs and Nagalands was now happening near me and I was stricken with fear. Paralysed with fear,unable to make a decision and confused, I knew for once what it meant to be terrorised. (Of course this is nothing compared to what might have gone through the minds of the people in Taj et al during those days.) With these thoughts I got into the flight at around 7:30 AM and landed in Raipur safely about two hours later. As soon as I landed I received a call from my parents inquiring about my safety. I told them that I was safe and sound in Raipur and quite far away from Mumbai for the next few days.
I saw on TV the carnage that Kasab and Co had unleashed on Mumbai. I was numbed at the audacity and the sheer intensity of hatred that was being manifested in this form. Many had to die a painful death, many orphaned, many lost their children, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters. Although I escaped, I realised that the guns are coming home.
As I reached my friend's place in Borivili, I saw my friend intently listening to the news and it was then that I realised that what I had heard of earlier was no regular event but something much more terrible. I was worried and scared now because I had to catch an early morning flight the next day to Raipur and Vile Parle was very close to the airport. I continued watchnig the television as the gory assault unfolded on the television. Reports were streaming in with gory details. I watched until around 1 0' clock and then went to bed while my friend continued to watch. But not before sending a message to my parents to tell them that I was safe. After lying on the bed for sometime, sleep escaped my eyes and then I heard from the television in the next room that there were reports of shooting from Borivili also. My heart sank. I got up again and went in front of the television but there was not much being added on that front. After waiting for some time I again went to bed. By now I had serious reservations about going the next day. I tried calling my colleague who was to come along with me. But there were connectivity issues and the call did not go through. I was dead tired and I thought I will get some sleep for a couple of hours and then make a call on going. I slept for sometime and then woke up at around 4 O' clock. I switched on the television and began to realise the full extent of the event as I saw the Maharashtra CM on television calming the people in Mumbai but at the same time cautioning them. A statement from the government asking people to stay at home in case there are no urgent works was shown as a ticker on the television. However there did not seem to be any further reports on the attack in Borivili. I flipped through different channels to figure out the truth of the matter. But it drew a total blank. So I concluded that it was only a false alarm.
Now as the time for the flight was approaching I was struggling with the decision whether to go or not. The attacks had happened largely in South Mumbai which is quite far off from the airport. But there was also the report of a stray explosion close to the airport at Vile Parle. Also the style of the attack; mainly spraying bullets at people at random meant that the airport would be an ideal place for the attackers. There was not much stopping them at that point. But after imagining the worst possible scenarios in my mind I decided to go. I got ready and said a quick good bye to my half awake friend and headed out of the safe confines of the apartment. I tried to wave down a couple of autos. Both of them refused when they heard that the destination was the airport. After this I waved down a third one who agreed. As I headed to the airport, I continued praying for a safe passage.
As I reached the airport, I soon paid for the ride and walked quickly to the entrance to the airport where I showed my ticket and got inside. I heaved a sigh of relief as I knew that I had crossed the first line of defence and would be safe behind a line of CISF soldiers from now on. After the security check in I managed to be a bit calm as I waited for my flight. It was at that moment that I realised that the guns are coming home. What used to happen in the far away Kashmirs and Nagalands was now happening near me and I was stricken with fear. Paralysed with fear,unable to make a decision and confused, I knew for once what it meant to be terrorised. (Of course this is nothing compared to what might have gone through the minds of the people in Taj et al during those days.) With these thoughts I got into the flight at around 7:30 AM and landed in Raipur safely about two hours later. As soon as I landed I received a call from my parents inquiring about my safety. I told them that I was safe and sound in Raipur and quite far away from Mumbai for the next few days.
I saw on TV the carnage that Kasab and Co had unleashed on Mumbai. I was numbed at the audacity and the sheer intensity of hatred that was being manifested in this form. Many had to die a painful death, many orphaned, many lost their children, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters. Although I escaped, I realised that the guns are coming home.
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