Skip to main content

Failed Schooling

Of late, a video of teachers in villages and small towns in India went viral with teachers not knowing the spellings and basic general knowledge like the names of presidents and prime ministers so on and so forth. It invites many comments, acerbic, funny, condescending, demeaning. To me that whole video was so sad and heart-wrenching. 
It is a sad commentary about our schooling. It is thought-provoking. What is the point of putting kids in school when they are neither equipped nor evolved enough  to be place for learning. They are not place for sharing of knowledge but rather a place where a kinship of ignorance is kindled. Teachers in most government schools in India are broken individuals who as a result of failed fate or abysmal aptitude couldn't do anything better but to teach. 

They aren't overwhelming souls brimming with knowledge, but have dark gaping holes of ignorance churning with sadness inside. They are teachers since they couldn't be anything else. And it isn't not as much about salary and compensation as about the falling gratitude of parents and students alike as a society. I am yet to come across kids studying with an intent to become a teacher when they grow up or parents who want their kids to become teachers when they grow up. It is a failed profession. True, there are some really great teachers, who really love the fact that they hold the solemn responsibility of moulding the next generation of people. Someday, those little people walking awkwardly with bags bigger than their bodies will become the custodians of the nation and the world. How many kids have access to them? 
I remember recently having seen a movie on the flight in which the English teacher gets into a tiff with the newly arrived painting teacher over the primacy of their respective subject over the other. How many of our teachers take that kind of pride in subjects they teach? How often they come out as playing, worshiping and nurturing the subjects they teach?
Until the day we have people wanting to be teachers, dreaming to be teachers and have a general access to teachers like that, such videos are nothing but a source of sadness for a nation that wants to be a world teacher. Teaching is a very special job. It is not about teacher's training. A great teacher need not necessarily be trained in handling kids well, he should be trained to handle his subject well. He must want to, love to get his student love his subject, and yes, he must believe his subject to be holding the key to human evolution. 
Without improving the quality of teachers, the campaign like No child left behind is useless since schools itself are being left behind. Teaching has to be a profession of joy and patience and godliness. Teachers have to be Demi-God and we must create an environment in which they could become one. They should be able to set example and we must let them be able to do that.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Book Review- The Waves- By Virginia Woolf

Book: The Waves Author: Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) Genre: Fiction (Spiritual/ Philosophical) Style: Experimental Published: 1931 Publisher: Hogarth Press Rating: Must Read, Classic
“The Author would be glad if the following pages were not read as a Novel.” – WroteVirginia Woolf(1882-1941) on the manuscript of The Waves (Initially called The Moths). It was first published in 1931.  We are close to a century since this book was published, still this book is unparalleled and unequaled. The Independent called this Book of a Lifetime.
This is not an easy book to read. Beauty is never too easy to create, or is it ever too easy to savor to the fullest. Both production as well as the consumption of true work of art needs to be earned. This is a difficult book to read yet immensely elegant and infinitely exquisite. The story, unlike most fictional novels, does not unfold through dramatic events. It doesn’t depend on drama, it deftly steers clear of the mundane. It is sensually sublime and magnificentl…

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man- James Joyce- Book Review

Amazon Link 
Some books are an act of education; they cannot be read in haste, cannot be understood in one read. James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man gives one such feeling.
It is a coming of age story of Stephen Dedalus. Nothing extraordinary about that. But then there a rich, slowly flowing lost river of philosophy which moves beneath the surface, turning an ordinary story of a boy growing up, encountering questions about faith, religion and sex, into an exceptional, extraordinary and engaging story. The story moves along the timeline, much in the manner of Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, where the writer is seemingly a passive narrator. Further, while this book is more of a philosophical essay wrapped around a story, Ms. Woolf’s book, on the other hand, is rather a Story primarily, with a philosophical touch. This book is blatantly philosophical, dwelling into the dangerous territory of religion and how a growing mind looks at God. It begins with his school, whe…

Madam Bovary's Eyes- Flaubert's Parrot - Book Review

Some books are very hard to classify and categorize. This is one such book. Officially, it is a fiction, a novel. In terms of genre, it should be put in the same shelf as Cakes and Ale by Maugham or The Ghost Writer of Philip Roth, both I have read this year. But then, maybe not. The two are totally fictional, in terms of all the characters contained in them, even though they do have a writer as the central character. But then, that is all that has to do with writing. I don’t think we ever consider the writer’s profession as a central point of those novels. Also the characters are out and out fiction. That is where this book is different. It is about the giant of French literary history (and now, of English classical literature)- Gustave Flaubert.
            The characters and references are all real. Julian Barnes throws all his weight behind the genius who is the key protagonist in the fiction, follows the dictum of a perfect biography as mentioned by Flaubert in a letter in 1872, …