Classrooms or Prisons!
-By Vijitha Rajan
Vijitha is currently a research scholar in Central Institute of Education, Delhi University
Not until recently have I realized why Kumar’s (1991)
description of a teacher as a ‘meek dictator’ has appealed me to the core of my
understanding about Indian teachers and classrooms.
As I went through his book – Political Agenda Of Education –
second time during last summer, almost as an epiphany, I realized that the
author, Kumar, was describing my life as a teacher and not just the colonial
teachers.
When he described the nature of teacher training and teachers’
work during the colonial times, I was reliving my own experiences of teacher
training and work as a school teacher.
Though there are changes in state standpoints and policy level
reforms regarding our school and teacher education classrooms, the underlying
processes that define our classrooms haven’t really undergone any fundamental
change. And that is why the colonial classroom that Kumar (1991) described in
his book, my own school and teacher education classroom, the classroom in which
I was privileged to be a teacher and the classrooms that I observe now as a
researcher are all essentially the same.
I happened to get my teacher ‘training’ from one of the Regional
Institutes of Education (RIEs), which is a major constituent unit of the
National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT). During the time
of entrance exam for the Integrated Programme of Teacher Education called
Bachelor of Science Education (B.Sc.Ed.) in 2006, I met people whose parents
have been educated in the same institute desperately wanting their wards to get
admission to the institute.
I wondered if the educational experience of people in the
initial days of the institute would have been much better than how we are
‘made’ teachers during our programme. All through the four years, we had triple
main (Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics, PCM in my case) and along with that
papers related to education. As one can imagine most of our energy is spent in
understanding (memorizing rather) the so-called core science subjects, as
it’s hard to pass in subject papers without some hard work.
Education, on the other
hand, was a subject of which we never really found a need to engage with so
deeply. We could write anything and everything in the education paper and get
pass marks, if not excellent marks. Nobody feared of failing in the education
subjects. It was only the previous day of the exam, education subjects found a
place in our schedule, whereas science subjects occupied our entire schedule
during the study holidays.
I remember how two of my mischievous friends sat and made quotes
about education in the name of people who did not exist so that they can
impress the faculty. We used to imagine how the faculty would get fooled by
giving marks for the elaborated quotations that are actually made by us.
The pedagogy of our teacher education classroom was still
stuck in micro teaching, skill development and lesson planning. We made
lesson plans, each focusing on different skills like questioning,
explaining, introducing the chapter and so on. Teachers ‘taught’ us
constructivism by lecturing about it and we ‘learnt’ constructivism by
memorizing its definition from National Curriculum Framework (NCF 2005).
The broader arena of
education that the teacher has to be aware and reflective about; the
philosophical, sociological and political dimensions of education; and
constructive ways of understanding knowledge, learners and our own selves were
never discussed in our classrooms. It seems that teacher educators in our
institute still believed that ‘chalk and talk’ are the best way of teaching
teachers and in fact one and only way of doing it. Though there were some
exceptional teachers, their work was still shaped by the overarching culture of
teaching and learning existed in the institute. I thus became one among many
uncritical teachers in our country, who did not know how to dialogue and
alternatively engage with children in our classrooms.
I recall these experiences not to criticize or defame my
own institution, instead to understand my wonder of how teacher education
experiences in a reputed central government institution can go this worse. And
what would be the nature and quality of various other state and private teacher
education institutes in the country? Even more disheartening is how I carried
my notion of education, children and learning into the school classroom when I
became a teacher.
I worked as a teacher for two years in a so-called residential
public school, which not only allowed me to practice what I learnt wrongly about
education in my teacher training institute but also reinforced how true they
are. Monitoring and disciplining the children were openly declared as the main
responsibilities of teachers and we wholeheartedly engaged in accomplishing it.
Children taking down notes in a Government School (Photo by Janakiraman) |
The most silent classroom
was the best classroom and teacher who handled that classroom the best teacher.
When children asked questions in the class or when they talked to each other in
the class, irrational fear and impatience grew spontaneously in our minds.
Nobody wanted that stare from the principal or the co-teachers that declared
them inefficient teachers.
Neatly written laboratory records were more important than doing
experiments. Silence in the classroom and more marks on the paper were more
important than having a dialogue with the teacher. Finishing syllabus and
revision on time were more important than children’s understanding and
knowledge. The success of high performing students was more important than the
failures of backbenchers. What mattered more was how children performed in
exams and not who and what they actually were. It wasn’t that I never realised
what education actually is, but somehow I continued doing what everybody else
did in school and how they shaped their classrooms. Of course, we have
counter-narratives of good teachers, both in government and private schools.
But whom I represented was thousands of our school teachers who gets school
education in conventional classrooms, teacher ‘training’ again in conventional
teacher education classrooms and sincerely try to educate our children based on
the incorrect knowledge they acquired.
What is more striking, as I have mentioned in the beginning is
that how this classroom culture has been stagnant in our country for decades.
My experiences of school education, pre-service teacher education and teaching
in small towns of South India have striking similarities to that of teachers
who worked decades before and also of teachers in the contemporary society
(even in the metropolitan city of Delhi where I pursue my research now). What
do educational reforms mean in this context of historically transcending nature
of classrooms? Do we really understand our classrooms before attempting to
change them? We understand our classrooms as frozen in time and space and try
to reform them. We are stuck in the temporality of our classrooms, which are in
turn transcending beyond what and how they are here and now. The reforms that
do not engage with the history of our classrooms and how and why they have become
what they are today will reinforce the existing classroom ideals and instead of
reforming them.
All curses of the current educational system: exams, rote
learning, blind dependency on textbooks, authoritarian teacher-child
relationship, the gap between school knowledge and children’s everyday lives,
lack of inclusion and dialogue, are rooted in assumptions and beliefs about
learners, learning, teachers, teaching, knowledge and society. These beliefs
are in turn created and recreated in the socio-political, cultural, economic
and historical context of the country. When one leaves that context behind and
attempts to understand and reform classrooms, we fail to locate the roots of
our classroom culture.
Sarangapani (2003) in her book – Constructing School Knowledge:
An Ethnography Of Learning In An Indian Village – tries to understand the
‘everyday reality of the common Indian school’ by deeply engaging with the
routine processes that determine our classroom culture. She argues that it is
important not to ignore those underlying features of classrooms or to try
radically changing the school system.
Sriprakash’s (2011) study with rural primary school teachers in
Karnataka who are negotiating their ways through child centred educational
reforms explores how reforms have to negotiate through the social context in
which teachers and classrooms are located. We need more such studies to
understand the continuity of our classrooms with history, culture, politics and
socio-economic context of the country and the global world.
Why do our teachers teach the way they do? How are our
classrooms fundamentally defined by the teacher authority and uncritical
transmission of knowledge? Why do our school’s classrooms reproduce
inequalities instead of uprooting them? To understand these questions, we need
to disconnect our classrooms from its temporality. We may have to inquest into
how colonial and nationalist history has shaped the classroom discourse in
India. We may have to locate our classrooms in the social system where caste,
class and gender inequalities are deeply entrenched, where education is a
medium to propagate political ideology and where education is made to follow
the rules of the market game. And we may have to comprehend the everyday
realities of classrooms beyond time and space and critically reflect on
standalone quality interventions in classrooms.
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