Opinion
A callous education
Many private schools in Kathmandu are run by leaders who care little about developing young minds
Niranjan Kunwar
This is one of the first questions we pose to a student group visiting the Nepal Art Council for our guided educational tours. To my colleagues and novice guides,
I had mentioned early on that it is important to do some 'research' with the students before we try to teach anything. In other words, without knowing what the students know, or where they are at, it is tricky to make them understand aspects of this complex exhibition, which the organisers have titled 'Climate + Change.'
The responses from the students are very mixed, mostly depending on their age group and socio-economic background. Primary school children from a reputed private school were extremely honest. They twisted their mouths, attempting to think, searching their minds. Looking at each other questioningly, eyes twinkling, some of them shrugged their shoulders and confidently said, “I don't know.”
Learning to talk
It is not surprising to get this from younger students but even students from secondary schools, colleges and sometimes teachers struggle to define the word climate. Most of them can't articulate the differences between climate and its cousin, weather.
We provide prompts. We say, “You don't have to say exactly what the word means. Just tell us what comes to your mind when you hear these words." Encouraged, one or two students speak up. “Sunshine,” “Rain,” “Temperature.”
We nod our heads. We are excited when we get an idea of what they are thinking. Then other students chime in, assured that they are entering safe territory. They feel comfortable taking risks.
Depending on a particular group of students, we modify our lessons. If it's a government school group, we usually speak in Nepali, using the same questioning techniques, always trying to find out what they know and what they don't know. After briefly explaining the differences between climate and weather and introducing the concept of climate change, we split the group and have guides take them around the exhibition.
In the last two months, over 1,000 students have visited the exhibition, representing various strands of society. Several government schools, small local schools and private schools from every tier have participated. We have even managed to host ninth graders from Lalitpur's rural towns, Simle and Gimdi. As I mentioned above, every group is different. Some groups are characteristically quiet and shy, not very used to guided tours nor being asked to participate and share their thoughts. Some are enthusiastic and blurt out answers while others have to be encouraged over and over to speak. But in every group, there are always a few bright minds. They thrust their hands up and make quick connections between the subject matter and their life.
One school's case
Recently, I interacted with one such group of students and the experience struck me rather deeply. They came from a private school, one of those numerous schools that have mushroomed inside our city in the last decade. If I mention its name, I'm sure that very few people will recognise it. Let's say that the name of the school is X English Medium School and it's located in the heart of our city. A teacher had approached us with much enthusiasm: “Our students are actually learning about global warming! They can probably tell you everything that's displayed here! Can I bring them please?” We happily scheduled her class.
The students walked inside properly. They were well-dressed in clean, tidy school uniforms. They seemed like they were well taken care of. They sat on our cushions, ready to listen. I followed my usual steps: welcome, introductions and then after writing the words 'Climate + Change' on our glass panel, I posed the usual question, “What does the word climate mean?”
Sets of eyes stared back.
I waited for a few seconds and then repeated, “Hmm. Climate. Can somebody tell me what that means?”
I got nothing from the students. But no problem; I carried on.
“You don't have to tell me the exact definition. What comes to your mind when you hear that word?”
These were seventh, eighth and ninth graders. And their teacher had told us that they were learning about global warming.
“Have you heard the word weather?” I then asked. Still, there was nothing except silence and their eyes were vacant, their faces stoic, wooden.
This group was clearly challenging.
So I departed from the usual lesson and went on a small spiel, switching between Nepali and English, telling them that we expected them to talk, to share their ideas. That in life, it's difficult to get anywhere if one doesn't speak at all.
“I'm sure you have heard the word weather and that it relates to the sun and rain, right? What else? What else comes to your mind?”
Finally, someone said, “Wind.” Then one more, “Cold.” But the rest of the students were completely quiet.
And it was in this manner that the tour and art activity went on.
Business of education
It is unfair to assess a school or its students based on only two hours of observation but the gaps I noticed with this particular group from X English Medium School were vast and extreme. I suspect that these students were never taught how to think. Perhaps no teacher from this school engaged them in conversations. I shudder to imagine
the school culture—years and years of being silenced, made to memorise paragraphs from textbooks. The ones who know how to read probably read only to pass exams.
At several points, we asked them for their opinions; we asked them what they thought. They didn't know what that meant. These were brains trained to rote learn, leaving very little room for ideas, inquiry and creative thought.
It became evident during the tour and activity that the students knew very little about anything. They didn't even seem to know how to speak. And they looked afraid.
It's also possible that the teachers chose the 'best' students to send to the exhibition. By the school's standards, 'best' probably meant the ones who always follow directions, never question, never inquire and rarely speak. Out of the context of their classroom and in a new learning environment, this crop of perfectly well-behaved students were utterly lost.
X English Medium is probably run by leaders who know very little about education and who don't care very much about developing young minds.
X English Medium is most likely a business initiative, not a real school.
There are probably many schools in Kathmandu just like X English Medium. Generations of young Nepalis are being 'taught' in these schools and raised in a similar environment.
Who is supervising these school leaders? Does anyone care to observe the teachers and examine the quality of teaching? Is anyone even concerned?
Kunwar is a writer and educator based in Kathmandu. He is one of the Arts and Education Program Developers of the ongoing Climate + Change exhibition at the Nepal Art Council