It may surprise people that I am not just in India for a holiday, I am in fact working at a school. I thought it was probably about time too mention some of the day to day entertainment, as well as all my weekend fun!
Literacy India is an NGO, and runs a variety of community projects as well as a school for children who have migrated into the local area and struggle to get a place in a government school, and can't afford a private education. They are clearly making a big difference to a lot of people but the day to day, like all things in India is pretty mad.
Tom and I are on a teaching assistants program, however the week we arrived students were preparing for exams, and the following 2 weeks they were sitting the exams. This means so far we have had little classroom time other than brief introductions to most of the classes followed by 20 minutes shaking hands with each member of the class and telling each child we're from the UK, but not from London!!
Break times are spent taking photo's and talking to the children, whilst drinking spiced ultra sweet cups of tea, or again being bombarded by the same three questions..."Good morning ma'am how are you?" "Ma'am what is your name?" "Sarah ma'am where are you from?" Before they run off not really interested in the responses.
Some of the children we get to speak to in more detail. In order to raise more funding the organisation creates detailed profiles of students to share with many of their contributors. In helping to write some of these we went on a home visit to meet the mother of one of our students, and gain a beer understanding of what life is really like for some of the children when they return from a day at school.
The young man we went to visit is 12 years old and lives about 10 minutes drive from school, he cycles to and from each day. We ring him from the local shops as his house isn't easy to find and he comes to meet us and guide us through the maze of little streets. We arrive at his house and are welcomed by his mother wearing a bright pink and green sari. His two younger sisters and younger brother are also there.
The house is in fact a room, in a terraced street of similar rooms. It's about twice the size of a double bed, and packed with well planned storage an Ikea designer would steal the ideas for. There is a dresser beside the bed with 3 neatly folded piles of clothes. The shelf above that has glasses. Above that are some cabin style cupboards with a curtain across hiding some more kitchen equipment, a winter quilt, and a television.
Opposite the bed is a small cubby hole in the wall that houses a brightly coloured Hindu shrine, with insect burning next to it. Another high shelf runs along the wall storing more little metal platters, bowls, and a stack of tupperware that the children use for school lunches. There is a second bed propped up against the wall, it's not out during the day because it would be impossible to walk on the limited floor space.
Cooking takes place just outside the front door. There is a small, low, stone fireplace. It can hold one pot over the top, where food is cooked, hot water boiled and sweet spiced tea is brewed. The house doesn't have running water or a bathroom. The terrace has one shared squat toilet, one shared shower, and a shared tap.
We are made to feel really welcome. The children are sent out to get a bottle of lemonade and some Bombay mix despite the teachers protests that they should not spend what little money they have on us, but mum wins, and so we gratefully accept the sweet and spicy treats. We all sit cross legged on the double bed, with two of the children on a green plastic garden chair that has been borrowed from one of the neighbours.
We talk in English with the teacher and children translating into Hindi, but also breaking off and having more in depth discussion in Hindi. The children are doing well at school, especially in Maths, but they need extra tuition to make sure they get the best grades possible. Recently they have stopped going to see their tutor because they missed two days and now he had cut their name from the lost, they're not going to find a new one as they have to go to a family wedding in their native village in Bihar for 10 days, so they'll do it when they get back. Despite questioning and pleading not to take the children out of school for so long mum is insistent that because of the travel time it's not worth them going if they don't spend time there, but she promises to make the children study while they are there.
Having sat and chatted for around half an hour we start to make a move and leave, only to be stalled again as mum tries to give the teacher another gift of earings. She places them in here ears and is insistent that because of all the good work she is doing for the children she must have them. After a long exchange in Hindi she takes out the earings, saying to the eldest daughter that she should have the earings as a reward when she is doing really well at school. We are escorted back to the car by the whole family who want to make sure we get there safely.
I am struck by how caring and friendly the neighbourhood is. People come out of their houses to say hello to us as we make our way back. The children are happily playing games of cricket, and riding bikes in the street. The women are beginning preparations for dinner, in a community that appears so different from my own some things seem so similar.
Literacy India is an NGO, and runs a variety of community projects as well as a school for children who have migrated into the local area and struggle to get a place in a government school, and can't afford a private education. They are clearly making a big difference to a lot of people but the day to day, like all things in India is pretty mad.
Tom and I are on a teaching assistants program, however the week we arrived students were preparing for exams, and the following 2 weeks they were sitting the exams. This means so far we have had little classroom time other than brief introductions to most of the classes followed by 20 minutes shaking hands with each member of the class and telling each child we're from the UK, but not from London!!
Break times are spent taking photo's and talking to the children, whilst drinking spiced ultra sweet cups of tea, or again being bombarded by the same three questions..."Good morning ma'am how are you?" "Ma'am what is your name?" "Sarah ma'am where are you from?" Before they run off not really interested in the responses.
Some of the children we get to speak to in more detail. In order to raise more funding the organisation creates detailed profiles of students to share with many of their contributors. In helping to write some of these we went on a home visit to meet the mother of one of our students, and gain a beer understanding of what life is really like for some of the children when they return from a day at school.
The young man we went to visit is 12 years old and lives about 10 minutes drive from school, he cycles to and from each day. We ring him from the local shops as his house isn't easy to find and he comes to meet us and guide us through the maze of little streets. We arrive at his house and are welcomed by his mother wearing a bright pink and green sari. His two younger sisters and younger brother are also there.
The house is in fact a room, in a terraced street of similar rooms. It's about twice the size of a double bed, and packed with well planned storage an Ikea designer would steal the ideas for. There is a dresser beside the bed with 3 neatly folded piles of clothes. The shelf above that has glasses. Above that are some cabin style cupboards with a curtain across hiding some more kitchen equipment, a winter quilt, and a television.
Opposite the bed is a small cubby hole in the wall that houses a brightly coloured Hindu shrine, with insect burning next to it. Another high shelf runs along the wall storing more little metal platters, bowls, and a stack of tupperware that the children use for school lunches. There is a second bed propped up against the wall, it's not out during the day because it would be impossible to walk on the limited floor space.
Cooking takes place just outside the front door. There is a small, low, stone fireplace. It can hold one pot over the top, where food is cooked, hot water boiled and sweet spiced tea is brewed. The house doesn't have running water or a bathroom. The terrace has one shared squat toilet, one shared shower, and a shared tap.
We are made to feel really welcome. The children are sent out to get a bottle of lemonade and some Bombay mix despite the teachers protests that they should not spend what little money they have on us, but mum wins, and so we gratefully accept the sweet and spicy treats. We all sit cross legged on the double bed, with two of the children on a green plastic garden chair that has been borrowed from one of the neighbours.
We talk in English with the teacher and children translating into Hindi, but also breaking off and having more in depth discussion in Hindi. The children are doing well at school, especially in Maths, but they need extra tuition to make sure they get the best grades possible. Recently they have stopped going to see their tutor because they missed two days and now he had cut their name from the lost, they're not going to find a new one as they have to go to a family wedding in their native village in Bihar for 10 days, so they'll do it when they get back. Despite questioning and pleading not to take the children out of school for so long mum is insistent that because of the travel time it's not worth them going if they don't spend time there, but she promises to make the children study while they are there.
Having sat and chatted for around half an hour we start to make a move and leave, only to be stalled again as mum tries to give the teacher another gift of earings. She places them in here ears and is insistent that because of all the good work she is doing for the children she must have them. After a long exchange in Hindi she takes out the earings, saying to the eldest daughter that she should have the earings as a reward when she is doing really well at school. We are escorted back to the car by the whole family who want to make sure we get there safely.
I am struck by how caring and friendly the neighbourhood is. People come out of their houses to say hello to us as we make our way back. The children are happily playing games of cricket, and riding bikes in the street. The women are beginning preparations for dinner, in a community that appears so different from my own some things seem so similar.
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