In the entrance to Gangotri Public School, expectant faces stare upwards, children’s small hands grabbing mine and setting my dupatta swaying. Foreheads creased in earnest concentration, the tour begins: a stark concrete square where children play during breaks; narrow stairways giving onto three floors overlooking the courtyard; a procession of bare, boxy classrooms echoing with the scraping of wooden chairs over concrete.
A flurry of voices calling “Namaste!” follows us from room to room. As we climb to the next floor, my young guides’ explanations grow brief – we are nearly at their classroom, and they are bursting to show it off.
This concrete slab of a school in Gautam Vihar, East Delhi, is typical of India’s inner- city establishments but for one respect; two classrooms here are taught by Teach for India (TFI) fellows, young university graduates recruited to improve educational outcomes for India’s disadvantaged children. I have come to visit Vignesh, a second-year fellow, and the 9 – 10 year old students he teaches.
Though it suffers from the same cramped dimensions, Vignesh’s classroom is a vivid contrast to the bare cells through which I have just been proudly paraded. Here, rows of wooden desks give way to floor mats, while a colourful jungle theme covers the walls against which children’s books in Hindi and English are stacked. Above the whiteboard is emblazoned the mantra “Work Hard. Be Nice”, adapted from American educator Rafe Esquith. Vignesh, a 24-year-old University of Madras graduate, pauses momentarily from his morning set-up to bustle my guides into place and indicate a chair for me. I sit down, casting an eye over the 28 children as they chatter and fidget cross-legged on the floor. In the concrete courtyard several floors below, a bell is rung. Then, as in countless classrooms across the world each morning, Vignesh throws out his hands, smiles widely at his students and begins to teach.
Despite the familiarity of the scene, unusual circumstances have led to this commerce graduate teaching the children of rickshaw drivers in a disadvantaged area of Delhi. Indeed, in a country whose daunting gulf between rich and poor is perpetuated by a rigid caste system and constantly simmering inter-religious conflict, the set-up is highly unconventional. Unbeknownst to the small, earnest faces following their teacher as he begins the day’s lessons serious domestic concerns and a growing international movement have influenced their education in a powerful way.
Within India, education is undeniably in crisis. The country relies on an unwieldy, chronically underperforming public system riddled with corruption and widespread teacher absenteeism. While enormous progress has been made from the 12% literacy rate the British left behind in 1947 to the current level of 74.04%, hundreds of thousands of Indian children never enrol in primary education, and 58% leave before finishing. As any visitor to India can attest, for every impeccably-dressed schoolchild you pass in the street, dark hair combed back or braided with ribbons, another can be seen heaving heavy sacks, rolling dough into disks for chapatti or bouncing a grizzling baby. Amidst this extreme educational inequity, India’s population continues to expand, and with it the pressure to maintain economic growth.
TFI was founded in 2009 and now operates in five major cities. The organisation’s vision – that ‘all children will attain an excellent education’ – seeks to address the failure of the national system. Global forces have also contributed however; TFI is a branch of the Teach for All network, an international organisation founded by Teach for America (TFA) and its British counterpart, Teach First. Participating programmes recruit “outstanding university graduates and young leaders of a variety of disciplines and career interests to commit…to teach in high- need areas, providing a critical source of additional teachers.” (Teach for All website). After a short training period – 40 days in Vignesh’s case – teachers join schools in low socio-economic areas for a two-year period.
The movement is gaining popularity worldwide, with 31 countries currently participating. In America, private funding from sources such as The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, as well as corporate sponsors, has enabled a rapid expansion of the programme over the last decade. The movement has even spread to Aotearoa; in January 2013 in New Zealand, the first batch of 16 Teach First educators entered high schools in Auckland and Northland.
The movement is not without its detractors. Some claim that the ‘Teach for’ organisations exaggerate their success and function only as a stopgap measure, failing to address underlying causes of educational underachievement. Furthermore, a review of research by Cheryl Sim on the Teach for All programmes of America and the United Kingdom found very limited evidence that teachers prepared through the ‘Teach for’ route were more effective than traditionally-trained peers. Meanwhile, contrary evidence presented by the organisations themselves and the complexity of accurately measuring teacher effectiveness – a key concern in educational debate worldwide –make clarity on this issue elusive.
The Indian context is unique however, and observing Vignesh with his students, I am struck most of all by the contrast between this learning environment and others I have visited. While hardly an expert in Indian education, I have been privileged to observe several classes already. In rural Rajasthan, I sat awkwardly on a stool in front of rows of wide-eyed, silent children as they waited to be called upon to recite facts for the visitor. In Mumbai, a chance acquaintance led me to a makeshift classroom in the courtyard of a slum, where a local woman led children in song and prayer. This supposedly English- medium school relies on a government grant to lure children with a free lunch for attending. Frayed posters of vegetables and animals are the only source of English language. In comparison, the pedagogy in this TFI class is mercifully robust. The teacher-student relationship is also far warmer than elsewhere; TFI fellows are addressed as ‘Didi’ (big sister) or ‘Bhaiya’ (big brother) by their students.
As I observe, Vignesh guides his students through a ‘three wishes’ starter activity and group discussion tasks. Later in the morning, a class discussion on the purpose of newspapers is held in preparation for a new unit. After a break for sweet chai, I am treated to an enthusiastic rendition of a scene from Roald Dahl’s Matilda. In a country where rote-learning dominates and class-sizes often stretch to 60 students or more, it is a relief to finally see learners engaged in cooperative learning and creative thinking.
Speaking with Vignesh afterwards, the challenges he has faced in achieving this become clear. These students are almost all first-generation learners from functionally illiterate parents and the issues of caste/ religious discrimination dividing their community impact upon relationships within the class. When Vignesh met his students 18 months previously, several couldn’t hold a pencil, most struggled to produce the alphabet and few could complete basic arithmetic. Nearing the end of his placement, Vignesh comments that the personal benefits have been significant: “the experience has taught me so many values and skills which I couldn’t fathom to learn otherwise.”
As I leave I pass through the courtyard which rings with the universal sounds of lunchtime; the slap of shoes on concrete and thin, high voices at play. I am reinvigorated by this encounter, my mind churning during the rickshaw ride back to a more guidebook-sanctioned area of the city. On previous schools visits, I have always been an outsider, struggling to identify any aspects of educational philosophy that resonate with my own beliefs. With Vignesh, however, I have been speaking with a fellow practitioner, an individual whose motivation and practice find their root in the same passion for meaningful learning.
Sitting in a street-side restaurant that evening, soaking up the buzz of the chaotic Old Delhi district, I think back to Vignesh’s students and their three wishes task. They produced a recognisable mix of childish materialism – “I want many gold coins” – and touching ambition – “I want to be a doctor of poor people”. I am struggling to reconcile the unease I feel about the controversial ‘Teach for’ movement entering the New Zealand system with the undeniably positive influence of teachers like Vignesh in the Indian context. The systems seem too disparate to compare. India once again proves itself an exception, a world apart.
Flicking through my photos and reading the students’ writing, the political wrangling of unions and governments suddenly seem very far away.
I come to the list of Ashutosh’s three wishes:
1. Happy my family
2. I am go to the big school
3. And don’t die my mother and father
Myself, I wish Ashutosh, his classmates and Vignesh all the very best for the future.
Author’s note:
Vignesh has now finished his TFI placement. He chose to remain with the organisation as a Program Manager leading a group of 15 fellows towards their personal and professional development. In the long run, he intends to either start a school in a rural village or join an organisation working towards teacher effectiveness.
