Archive for the ‘Education’ Category

Girls just wanna have fun…


2011
07.24

A COUPLE of months back I visited a school on the outskirts of Noida. The address didn’t mention a sector number, which made it tough to locate as people in Noida are now programmed to think in sectors. “What do you expect? This is a poor community,” the principal said. My experience culminated in an official bit of writing for my magazine Careers360. However, am penning the unofficial bits here, plus pics.

Coming back to the princi, she and her late hubby set up the school several decades back and managed it on the funds they raised by charging higher fees for another school they ran for those comparatively well off. Not well off but comparatively well off. Both were located in the same compound. We chatted for a while and then I pushed off to meet a group of young school students who had worked on some film projects.

Chatting with school girls in English-Hindi

I felt nervous! …on the account of the poor state of my Hindi. On top of that I have an unpronounceable name in these parts. Meru, Miril, Merin, Maru. When I entered the classroom I was greeted by a teacher and her 42 female students from Class 7 to 11. Some with pigtails. All looked like they had be prepping to give their best for this interaction! So, we began interacting and I felt like I was their teacher for about 20 minutes. But then they opened up and started speaking freely. Perhaps meanings are in people and not in words, and just like canines the young uns’ respond to a friendly vibe.

There were one or two eager beavers who had an answer for every question. Now this proved to be a problem as I wanted more perspectives, especially from the shy ones. So, I packed them off to pose along with their storyboards for our young photographer Rajat, an intern from a design school. And bingo, the discussion opened up and more young minds dived in.

In fact, some of them spoke to me in English even when I posed a question in Hindi. Perhaps, they thought it was most disastrous and wanted to save me any further embarrassment. Or perhaps they wanted to impress me with their English! Either way it was both amusing and endearing!

These girls seems quite determined to be ambassadors of their community. One said she wants to be a doctor and treat the people in her locality “as the govt. does nothing”. Another wanted to be a software engineer. One girl wanted to be an airhostess. And two wanted to documentary film makers. The fact that they had heard of this concept was very heartening to know.

School walls = artist's canvas

We bid the girls farewell after distributing Cadbury chocolates for all, and walked around the school and discovered a creative streak in the students. The walls of the classroom were their canvas, and sketches of the Gods and Goddesses, cows, dogs, birds were their inspiration.

sipping for the shutterbug...

As we wrapped up our visit, I noticed that Rajat was being coyly “checked out” by the girls in the vicinity. He wanted to photograph them drinking water from the taps outside, and they posed willingly in between sips and giggles!

Pictures: Rajat Rao from Raffles (design school)

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Art is no career


2011
06.04

I RECENTLY spent the day at a design institute, accompanied by a young PR professional. A sweet girl, she seemed eager to please but clueless about her client. She couldn’t answer any of my umpteen questions, and by the end of the day I gave her an itty-bitty lecture on why her ignorance isn’t doing justice to the client or me. I was amazed by my discoveries, post.

Turns out she doesn’t care much about PR and is artistically inclined. Art is no career, said her papa. The blood drained from her face and she became pale. I got a sense that she was a docile girl, the kind who lives in a world of her own making. Must be suffering extreme boredom in silence, in this PR gig (not all of us are forces of nature!).

I felt guilty for my little diatribe and decided to make some amends. Can you take up art as a hobby, and be creative in your own time? She seemed open to the idea, and considered pursuing art at least as a hobby. Though the spirit is willing, only time will tell if the flesh is willing, too. Fingers crossed.

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In whom we trust


2011
05.28

Poor doggie

Cookie

NO cliché is truer than the one that goes: A dog is a man’s best friend. It holds water. And with very good reason.

Every now and then, when people snigger between the shadows at those who obsess over canines, their common refrain being “I bet they don’t treat human beings this well,” I want to tell them that dog lovers don’t merely like dogs. We admire those qualities we desire in ourselves and in other human beings.

Loyalty. Unconditional love. Unconditional friendship. How many times have we put our faith and trust in another human being and been betrayed? How many times have we helped another human beings, and they’ve plain forgotten? We can’t help it. We are wired to be turncoats at some point or the other, on purpose or unknowingly. But once you trust a canine, be rest assured you can trust him or her, forever. Which brings me to a little incident that occurred outside my office, yesterday.

It was a regular day at work, and I was all set to go home and watch an episode of Dexter, when my colleague’s elderly driver popped out of the woodwork, while I was giving Daffy a bite. “Madame, I was waiting two hours for you. A dog got run over and is hiding under a car, he refuses to come out,” he said in Hindi. Though the doggie (see pic) – who we shall call cookie – wasn’t bleeding he was definitely in an excruciating amount pain, and was hiding under a car, whose owner we could not locate. He would not be lured by chicken pieces. But to my amazement the neighbouring chaiwala, crouched down and pulled the dog out. A hurt dog will bite because he feels great fear. But this one did not bite and seemed to trust this man.

He was laid on the pavement, and was shuddering with pain. Bloodshot eyes, and deep breathing, but no sound. Apparently, the screeching and yelping were over and done with at noon when a callous human ran him over. Now it was 8 pm. Now he was resigned to his pain. Soon we had an audience, some with genuine interest and a desire to help/ be supportive, and some random curious janta. One cab driver, who came off sounding like an authority on life and its complexities, declared that soon this dog would breathe his last.

But the chaiwala stroked the dog and sprinkled some water on his eyes and inside his mouth. It was evident that he knew the dog well and viceversa. We called up Friendicoes (NGO for animal welfare), and they said they would send an ambulance to pick him up, and they did by 9 pm, as a flat happened on the way (such is Murphy’s law). Typically, the first thing the Friendicoes helpers do is to tie up the mouth of the dog because hurt dogs tend to bite (out of fear). But when these guys arrived, the chaiwala volunteered to carry the dog and place him in the van. They heaved a sigh of relief and this is always the tricky part.

Once in the ambulance, the dog tried sitting up but couldn’t eventually. The ambulance sped off. Tomorrow I shall visit the blither and check on his progress, and when he is healed he will be released back into this locality. But hats off to the driver who waited two hours. Hats off to the chaiwala who was so loving and lost some customers to help a wounded animal. And hats off to the dog who trusted him.

Update: Sadly, he did not make it and passed away on two nights later due to an internal injury. But he was such a brave pup. the chaiwala was sad. very sad.

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How to talk to hearing impaired folks!


2011
04.01

IT was a fine Friday morn, when I walked into Costa Coffee and found ONLY hearing impaired employees manning the joint. Behind the cash counter, serving us etc. Perhaps their sincerity and hardwork has inspired in the management, a higher level of trust and faith in their abilities.

This realisation seems to hold water according to this report in SiliconIndia.com, about how several food chains like KFC, CCD and Barista, are absorbing hearing impaired boys and girls and employing them in all kinds of roles, not just serving.

The Noida’ Deaf Society’s blog chronicles some great success stories, like this entry about how their students were absorbed by Mphasis, Pune. Obviously, managements have come to realise that their employees and customers, are liking this trend.

Someone once described my sister as endearing, and I sense that this is the same feeling many a customer feels. But perhaps, it not the only reason they are liking it. Shikha Goswami, a Delhi University student was quoted as saying in the article,” It feels so good to encourage them and just a ‘thumbs up’ from them after they deliver the right order on the table makes you feel good as a human being.” Her interaction with a hearing impaired individual made her feel good too. Now, that’s a win-win situation.

However, in the past six months or so, I have come to realise that one needs a little exposure to hone one’s communication skills. Hence, have jotted down a few pointers on bridging the communication gap between those who can and cannot hear.

  • Everything starts with a smile. When you enter a restaurant/ restaurant flash your pearly whites from ear to ear. Hearing impaired employees shall warm up to you right away.
  • Eye contact is a must. It will put everyone at ease, including yourself.
  • Use facial expressions generously, especially your eyes.
  • Enunciate your words very well, and speak slowly, as some hearing impaired folks can lip-read.
  • Use your hands and body to make gestures. Don’t feel conscious. Remember those theatre workshops from your school days? Now’s the time to put them to practice and let go of all inhibitions.
  • Point out what you want in the menu or towards the display, and use fingers to indicate how many apple pie slices or chicken tikka sandwiches you wish to demolish.
  • If you want something customised, write it on a piece of paper (in legible handwriting).
  • When you are paying the bill in a self-service joint, the cashier can either give you the bill or show you the figure on the calculator.
  • Learn how to say thank-you in sign language. It’s very simple. Keep your fingers on your chin and then move your hand towards them, and gently tilt your head in gratitude. This boy does it beautifully in this video demo.

American Sign Language is a little different from India Sign language, and the good news is that The Deaf Way Foundation has done a BRILLIANT job of compiling a website featuring videos with every sign you must know, right from alphabets to animals to politics, religion and body parts.

So, anyone wishing to learn can do so for free and give your hearing impaired friends, colleagues, executives, a nice little surprise!

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The King’s speech therapist


2011
03.28

WHAT’S truly special about the film is that it shows us a man who successfully manages to fashion a career for himself despite having no access to a formal education. No ivy league education, no college education, not even a certificate.

An unsuccessful theatre actor, Lionel Logue (Geoffery Rush) channelises his disappointments, elocution and theatre skills into helping others overcome their speech impediments. A self-taught speech therapist, he begins his learning when asked to help World War I soldiers who lost their voices, both literally and figuratively. But what’s beautiful is his perceptiveness in understanding that mere technique isn’t enough.

First he must help them face their inner demons, borne of the ravages of war. The job needs empathy, compassion, not to mention wit and a truckload of patience, qualities that cannot be faked – nurtured perhaps, but not emulated. And thus he stumbles upon his calling and counsels others who stammer or have any other speech difficulties.

A child isn’t born with a stammer, is his firm belief and this leads him to understand the root cause for his patient’s speech impediment – being forced to be right-handed when in fact you were born left-handed, is one such usual suspect.

Establishing the root cause is a challenge by itself, one which needs much commitment to discover. Getting his “patients” to face their emotional issues is another.

Self-doubt. Fear. Seeking solace in self-deprecation.

He provokes a King in denial, into a frenzy of angry outbursts, an outcome he anticipates and hopes for because when the King is hopping mad, he does not stammer. And then he proceeds to tell the King that he will make a bloody good one because he is so persevering.

In fact it is Logue,  a  self-taught speech therapist – who is the persevering one. His level of engagement with his patients, going the extra mile to help them, is awe-inspiring!

Perhaps one can only persevere, when one cares? something to ponder over…

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Hearing impaired boys and girls find a voice


2010
09.09

AS we enter the gates of the Noida Deaf Society, three young lads gesture animatedly to each other, between sips of chai. Our presence perks their interest, and they point out the entrance of the building. Ruma, Director of NDS, is in the midst of a frenetic day; the training school for the hearing impaired has recently relocated to a new venue in Sector 36, Noida, and students and potential students hover in corridors, stairs, lawns and classrooms.

Clouds of movement everywhere as they gesture vigorously in sign language. There may be silence, but they are talking A LOT! The vibe is positive, the atmosphere, vibrant!

In a classroom, young boys and girls are being taught sign language – the primary medium of communication, and Step 1 in the learning process. Lip reading is not a part of the curriculum, especially since we are a country of 27 regional tongues; it’s tough enough to learn one new language! In India, a woman is referred to by placing your index finger on your right nostril (since women wear nose rings) and men are represented by the twirling of an imaginary moustache.

In the basement, three English language classes were being conducted, simultaneously in one large hall, only possible since there is silence in the room. But if you look more closely, students are engrossed in their respective lessons, and there’s an energy that is missing in the average Indian classroom. They are “listening” attentively. So engrossed was one young lad, that when my handbag bored into his backside, he did not even notice. He was busy trying to get the teacher’s attention. On one blackboard, I can see tenses listed out. Expanding one’s vocabulary is Step 2 in the learning process, it seems.

And finally Step 3, learning an employability skill.

In yet, another classroom, students are sitting at various computer workstations. NIIT has partnered with the school in the area of IT training. In a classroom in Sector 29, they are learning DTP and graphic design, which prepares them to work in any medium, which requires the knowledge of photo editing, creating layouts, photo retouching, etc. The graphic design programme focuses on design software like Photoshop, Corel Draw, In Design, Flash and Simple Animation, students have been successfully placed in companies such as NIIT, Macro Graphics, Maruti Motor Sports and Vivek Sahni Design. The teachers are also hearing impaired; they entered the training school as students and having shown potential, were moved into the role of the instructor.

On a different note, whilst India Inc talks itself hoarse about the unemployability crisis wrt the average Indian graduate (a degree but no skill), a training school in Noida is equipping young hearing impaired adults with specific skills – graphic design, office management and MS Office, to name a few. Throw in some professional grooming, and you have a job-ready individual who may not be a graduate, but has skills for an entry-level position. He or she may have completed Class 10 or 12, perhaps through the Open University (after much grief, courtesy the abysmal levels of expertise in teaching the hearing impaired in this country). IT company Mphasis absorbs students from the Noida Deaf Society, and I am told they earn over 10 K a month.

This learning experience does not merely present earning potential – it signals the end of solitude in a world of sound, goodbye to boredom during verbal conversations, the beginning of mental stimulation, the start of a new life mantra.

Students come from far and wide and from all stratas of society – North, South, East, West. The fee is minimal, and free for those with no money. When parents hear of the institute they make a beeline to the place, since there is no single resource institution for the hearing impaired, unlike a NAB, which is of immense help for the blind.

As is the case with all good things, the effort is the fruit of an individual’s personal drive and passion; the school kicked off in Ruma’s home with precisely five students in 2004, after she learned sign language at the AYJNIHH office here in Lajpat Nagar (New Delhi). Keeping one’s wits about one in the world of the hearing impaired is a must, and much credit must go to Ruma, who is a human dynamo, radiating energy, positivity and dollops of playfulness in her interactions with the students.

The school is currently looking to expand its campus placement scenario and HR honchos must note that the school has a pretty streamlined interface in place.

So, far students have been absorbed in non-IT skilled positions by KFC, Costa Coffee, ITC Hotels, Leela Kempinski, Shangi La Hotel, Hilton Garden Inn, and packaging units in export houses such as Indeutsche and Rdnik Exports. And in IT positions with BPOs and IT companies such Mphasis, Nucleus Software and NIIT, Macro Grahics, Maruti Motor Sports, Vivek Sahni Design and others.

For more specifics log on to http://www.noidadeafsociety.net/

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Delusional ideas about the calibre of poor children!


2010
07.31

I switched on the news recently and there she was – a parent whose child studies at Bethany High school (Bangalore), saying something to this effect: “How can you place two types of children – poor and rich – students of different “calibre” alongside in the same class?” The assumption was that the calibre of a poor child is low and that of a rich child is high. She used words such as “higher” and “weaker’ to describe children from these economic backgrounds.

The pupils dilated!

The bile rose in disbelief as the lady spewed garbage on national television!

Ameeta Wattal, Principal, Springdales School, also a part of a raging debate, shook her head in disgust. ” I can’t listen to this, ” she muttered every few minutes, under her breath.

The discussion was pegged on a circular put together by Bethany, which was then circulated privately to parents; it referred to poor children as “criminals” who are likely to smoke and beat up “your” children in class. According to the principal, the idea was to warn parents of what to expect in the following one year in light of the Right to Education Act, according to which private schools must reserve 25% seats for poor students in Class 1 in 2011.

Click here to watch the debate.

It is one thing to be uncomfortable about the consequences of the RTE, but to actually believe that calibre is decided by one’s economic background is delusional! Arnab, looking bewildered and somewhat resigned at this attitude, quizzed the parent on how “calibre” could possibly be dependent on whether you are rich or poor?

The principal of yet another private school stated that putting a rich child and a poor child in the same classroom is not appropriate, as one would be gabbing about McD’s while the other “does not even know whether he will get the basic things” (perhaps if they do the latter would discuss global warming instead of McDs!). This idea was somewhat thwarted by a tweet by an ex-student of Kendriya Vidyalaya who said that many of his schoolmates came from very poor backgrounds, and some of them are his best friends even today.

Come to think of it, I had poor classmates, too. It was really no big deal. But one thing is certain; before poor children set foot into a private school populated by children of a certain strata, it is the principal, teachers and the management who need to be sensitised.  Children of course are the least of the problem as they tend to emulate whatever is practiced by their role models.

On a different note, as I fed Daffy one day (a street dog who lives down the lane), a little boy of about 7-8 years of age, who works as a rag picker watched Daffy as he lapped up half a litre of milk. I felt guilty for feeding a hungry dog whilst a hungry child, looked on. The boy began following me and asked me for some money to buy food. But instead offering him money, I gave him a packet of biscuits, which he wolfed down in a jiffy before I could say “Khao”. I asked him his name and had to stoop really low to get a whiff of what he was saying. Braj Singh, I figured.

Every now and then, the boy follows me and I give him biscuits or a kachori. One day we decided to have some aloo tikki. As it was being prepared on a wok, the man started warning me (animatedly) about how the boy uses the money people give him, to buy beer. I then reminded him that he is a kid. Then he told me that the gang of rag pickers steal, and that the police is always keeping an eye on them. Once again I reminded him that these “thieves” were between 8-12 years of age, and unless taught otherwise, they are bound to be up to no good. He quit eulogising and handed over a plate of food to the boy.

On a different note (seems I am addicted to this phrase!), a friend of mine once made a very, very odd statement during those formative days when I was getting acquainted with him. “I like poor people,” he said, later confiding in me that his parents were migrant workers who had seen very, very hard days. A bright student, books and his love for reading set him free.

A media professional who has created somewhat of a niche for himself, today, I applaud my friend for making the crossover to a white collar position that lets him influence thoughts, ideas and people. But he never forgets the difficult days and remembers the names of the children at every traffic signal, and has a smile, food and other goodies for them, when the signal turns red.

On the other hand, I have another friend who is also a position to influence thoughts, ideas and people, someone who is jovial, funny and empathetic, and yet is unempathetic to the chai boy who delivers his chai. He asked the chai boy for the amount he had to pay him to which the boy muttered something incoherently. My friend asked him rather brusquely to speak louder and gave him the amount sans a tip. The chai boy seemed like a zombie, a little zombie of eight years or less, with no expression on his face. I asked him his name and gave him some money, but his expression did not change and he seemed resigned to being expressionless.

Rediff.com, recently did a series children who work for over eight hours a day and earn a pittance, everyday:

12-year old Mohammed wanted to watch FIFA. But he could not…

Lil’ un named Shumbhu

”With Rs 200 a month, I can’t even afford to dream”

The comments to these pieces were diverse. Some insist we ban child labour. But then if we ban it, what will they eat? Another observed that employing children is one thing. But being cruel and brutal is another. Yet another reader was pissed with the author: “By writing this article and giving the photograph of the 11-year old boy, you have done a grave injustice to him. Most probably he will lose this job as the government authorities will be after his employer and charge him for engaging child labour. The poor boy will lose his job and whatever little earning he is getting now to educate his brothers. Has the writer given any thought to this before writing?”

Perhaps he has a point. But the long and short of it is that the series of stories, which tells it as it is, generated much interest from readers and several comments, mostly empathetic, concerned ones. Perhaps it is because of the approach to the stories is to tell it as it is, and not romantise their situation through the use of rich prose. Either ways, these stories gave a face to the little faces in our chai stalls and grocery stores. Perhaps we cannot change their lives, but we can be kind and we can smile and we can give them a cookie or a tip every now and then.

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Our education: High hopes and unrequited dreams!


2010
07.07

IN the last few weeks I heard two young guns cussing (vociferously) for being coerced into pursuing a BCom degree at a young, impressionable age.

They mean no offense to the discipline but they question the role it played in shaping their careers (which is according to them is zilch). Today, one boy is a scholar in Political Science, the other a yoga instructor who comes home to train you.

Those five formative years (includes Class 11 and 12) of academic drudgery seem to have inspired infinite boredom in two bright, young minds. In hindsight, they wished they were more empowered in the decision-making; the yoga instructor wished he pursued a BSc in Yogic Science as this is his calling in life, and the political science scholar wishes he had pursued a Bachelor in Arts and not commerce and economics.

But at the time, they could not withstand family pressure, despite having good parents who want the best for their kids. But parents can be ill-informed and clichéd in their beliefs, which sediment over time due to lack of information on future job prospects.

For instance, my merchandiser friend who now works for a retail conglomerate (of somewhat vulgarly large proportions), is a glowing example of several wasted years on a generic degree. Today, one element of her job is to interact with craftspeople from across the country and the world (she is constantly raving about the boys and girls in the Philippines who are muchos creative!). She picks and chooses odds and ends, which she hopes will add some character to her consumer’s home. She loves this aspect of her job, immensely and when she meets the craftspeople, she is like a kid in a candy store, mesmerised by their creativity. But getting to the candy store proved to be an arduous journey.

After Class 12 she wanted to pursue a design programme at NIFT. Hailing from a family that rates literacy very high on their life agenda, her papa insisted she complete graduation (BCom) and then see if she still wanted to pursue NIFT.

She completed three years, and once again asked her papa about NIFT, and this time he insisted on an MCom degree, and the girl agreed. Two years down the line, again she asked about NIFT, and this time he had no choice but to agree since the girl refused to find a job. She gave the test and submitted her portfolio, a series of sketches all featuring solitary figures (a lone tree, a lone girl with sadness in her eyes and other such solitary objects). And then she made it, opting for a non-fashion design programme (textile perhaps).

She began life at NIFT, with classmates who were at least five years younger than her. It was an odd situation, but in a way a dream come true after five years of a forgettable academic experience.

The long and short of the matter is: should children be forced to pursue generic graduate degrees without mapping them to future job/ career prospects, marrying them with interest and aptitude? If not, then who will do the mapping, and at what age should both parents and children be exposed to multiple career paths that are more specific and less generic in nature?

During Class 11 and 12, we were pretty clueless as to what was on offer besides medicine, engineering and microbiology. I once contemplated becoming a nun, since I lived in a hostel run by them, and the strict regimen tends to sometimes mess with you head for a few weeks! Anyways, I opted for a BSc in Microbiology for a few weeks and an epiphany later, realised that it would be of absolutely no consequence to my life. So, I switched to a BSc in Physics but now work in editorial. During the course of the programme, I joined the Communications Club, mostly attended by Arts students, and the Prof who kicked it off made more than a dent in my impressionable young mind. The seeds of my future career were sown right then. I knew I wanted to be in the media, with a focus on education and careers. I suppose the drabness of my own college years, spurred me on. After all physics is an intriguing subject made excruciatingly dull by professors whose teaching methodology, not to mention worldview, bordered on the redundant.

On a different note, I joined Instituto Hispania to learn Espanol, a language that is music to my ears since I am inclined towards sangria, Gaudi, Dali and little coastal towns such as Torre Vieja (old tower) where if you speak good English, people mistake you for being from England (though I do detest bull fights from the bottom of my soul)! I was so looking forward to being a student once again, and embracing the joys of learning. But the institute managed to squish the sensuality and passion out of this lovely language, and reduce it to a series of theory lessons. Sigh.

As a nation, we seem to love to squeeze out all the joy of learning, don’t we? And our mantra seems to be” let’s take everything interesting and make it dull as ditchwater”.

So on the one hand you have, teaching methodologies that discourage curiosity and interactivity, encourage learning by rote. On the other, you have generic degrees pursued by million of students in the country. And what do we have at the end of it? Chronically unemployable kids.  You need only speak to employers, to understand the disdain with which they approach recruitment.

Remember I am not talking about the best institutions in the country (though some of them might also be highly suspect) but the thousands of institutes churning out an assembly-line production of generic graduates with some knowledge but little skills, every year across the country. One cannot merely blame parents for this odd state of affairs. The current system is just not rising to the occasion in terms of either meeting the demands of the job market or doing justice to a student’s aspirations.

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