Consultative teaching

V looked completely different from how I remember her. Calm, composed, graceful. These were the words I would have used to describe her last year. But this Monday, as I was peeping out from one of the classrooms into the corridor, I was caught by the image of a frazzled looking teacher yelling at her kids to get into a straight line. She looked like she was at the end of her tether. And it worried me. Because in my earlier interactions with her, she had appeared to be one of those teachers who could handle anything that came her way.

Luckily I got to spend time in her classroom that afternoon and the whole of the next day. Where I saw more chaos ensuing, of course. They were wrapping up their expeditions and preparing for the culmination which included a presentation to their parents about the activities they had undertaken and learnings they’d accomplished as part of the expedition.

The class included a lot of controlling on the part of the teacher. A lot of yelling and telling children what to do or not do. I was a little taken aback by how harsh the teacher sounded.

Then there was a point in class when the teacher had a one on one ‘tussle’ with a student.

I would have done things differently. But what I would have perhaps done is skirted around the issue and let the child be and not bother them at all. That would have reduced the stress of confrontation on the student’s part, but more so on my part and I am afraid to death of confrontations. And in that way, I may have done something that in retrospect benefited me more than my students.

When I heard V say such things to this child, with the whole class listening and aware of what was happening, I immediately realised something. As a child, I have never been spoken to like that. I have never been told in a firm, bold voice from an adult figure I looked up to, to pick myself up, to get myself together and to go ahead with the task. I had never been told that if I want to sit and cry in a corner, then she has a box of tissues she can hand over and that she can cry all afternoon, but that does not mean I am exempted from doing my work and from taking responsibility for my actions and myself.

These may seem like big words to throw at a ten year old. But I can’t help but wonder how different a person I could have grown up to be had I been handed over such an understanding of life.

What I saw unfolding in this classroom wasn’t merely a carrying out of learning tasks. I saw the teacher take complete charge of the child, and push her when she needed it. I felt then that the teacher had managed to penetrate the child’s consciousness and impact her future 10, 20 years down the line. It felt like a classic case of parenting, one that parents often try to avoid.

I wish I can be as brave for my students when they need it.

It wasn’t just V’s firmness that I found stunning. In between her stern words, she was communicating with her students. And by communicating, I mean she was talking to them and listening to their responses. Even while drafting a note, an email to parents, she was consulting them continuously. And in this moment, she was treating them as her equal, and sharing her responsibilities with them. Not only were the children already learning to make decisions, in being taken seriously by the adult around them, they will perhaps start taking themselves seriously as well. I think that is a great way for a 10 year old to approach himself.

What I sensed in the classroom dynamics was a full trust on the part of the students towards their teacher. And a lot of this was a result of the trust that the teacher had put on her. The trust had come with responsibility, because the students know that since they are being trusted, they are more accountable for their actions. And being fifth graders, in spite of the restlessness that characterises children of this age universally, I saw conscious effort on the part of the children to help the teacher with her classroom management.

The implicit signals that the teacher gives to her class sets the tone for the class and the atmosphere of the classroom, the characteristics of the community. In my observations, I’ve found this to be of utmost importance. At no point did the children feel threatened, as if the teacher was on the other side, approaching them like an enemy. What I got was the sense that both teachers and students are working together and trying to understand each other’s points of view.

I found out later that V has been with the same class since they were in four. Having taught them for two years must certainly make the relationship different, deeper even. And that is perhaps why the classroom dynamics in her class felt very similar to the dynamics of a family. The teacher was clearly a mother figure. I guess these relationships, forged within two formative years of a child’s life, are relationships that will last.

Silence as teacher

The Heritage School is by no means a simple school. But its defining characteristic may be the calmness you feel in yourself after having spent a day there. I am amazed by how the school has been able to build itself around the base of silence.

It feels as if the school embraces spirituality, and spending time in a classroom gives the impression that the educational approach itself is one that views schooling as a spiritual experience.

I may not have always loved structures and rules, but the structures around which a school day at Heritage unravel are beginning to grow on me. The day begins with a ten minute silence time, when children sing a song (is it a bhajan?) that ends with them chanting om. After a whole day of learning, moving about, playing, the children are again aloud to sit silently for five minutes before the school ends and they leave for home. Both times, while seated in the classroom, I closed my eyes and tried to soak up in the energy that was being produced. And a familiar pleasant buzz began to ring all over my body. The last five minutes of the day in particular feel like a great time to end on a note of silence. The day is tiring for children as well as teachers, and this really allows the children to be calm and collect their energies.

I’ve heard teachers here say phrases like ‘children, we need to collect our energy’ or ‘children, I think we need to reconnect with each other as a class, so let’s do circle time later today.’ Your experiences may determine the vocabulary you choose to use, but your choice of vocabulary can just as easily determine the way you approach your experiences. So I have been pleasantly surprised by the offerings made by the teachers in terms of their word choice alone. When children begin to think of their distraction and misbehaviour as a dispersion of their energy, and their correct behaviour as a signal of their groundedness, then I feel like we are offering children a lot more in being disciplined than the mere instance of fulfilling somebody else’s needs. I think with something like this, we are already working towards building character, and building internal strength and resilience. That other beautiful word--of connection and reconnection--is equally important because it helps reaffirm the children’s identity. There is, of course, the individual self that forms an identity. But an equally important living and functioning identity is that of the group, and once children see themselves as part of something larger, something whole. Having always fallen under the microscopic gaze in my own school, and having developed an even harsher gaze of scrutiny towards myself over the years, I find it of utmost value that children at such a young age begin to think of themselves as a part of a living whole. I think it allows us to be forgiving towards our own mistakes, and allows us to look upon our strengths in a different way. Not something to boast about, not something that differentiates and separates me from others, but something that helps me to build a bridge and connect with others.

Also, being around people who use words like energy and connections--I’ve always found that so rare--makes my heart tingle with joy. I had a wonderful experience of observing one of the teachers who seems very spiritually in tune with her students, and who leads her class like a guru rather than a traditional school teacher. I will leave that for another post.

For now, getting back to silence. When I think of silence has an educational tool, multiple possibilities open up. Now it depends on the individual teacher what they want to make out of it. Even in my observations here, I have seen silence being used as a tool for classroom management. And that has been used in a very successful manner. The students here know, understand and practice silence like no other middle school children I have met. But silence lends itself to much more than just classroom management. It can end up being that window through which you view life. I can become your lens.

Silence is something I want to see being put into practice at Nisarga as well. Silence has always enchanted me, and having a meditative base upon which children and teachers can build their educational experiences will have advantages in the short and long run.

The school has one of those instant coffee brewing machines. The coffee it gives out is too sweet, but I can live with that. The cup is just tiny, however, and my coffee already gone. Now that I have trouble accepting.

The strict teacher

After being in and out of classrooms for a week, I am surprised at my own ease with the way teachers here interact with their students. My first impression was that these fifth graders were being controlled a bit too much by the teachers. They seemed to be what for me has so far been a complete no-no in terms of teacher qualities. They appeared strict. And I was taken aback.

Having spent a considerable amount of time within these classrooms, I have come to understand and even appreciate the teachers’ way of dealing with their students.

Fifth graders, at ten years of age, are by no means model representatives of the human civilisation. They behave more like monkeys when left to themselves. And the ten year olds at Heritage are no different. As soon as the teacher leaves the classroom, they start making noise and prance about the classroom. If the teacher is paying individual attention to one child, restlessness pours out of all the others.

So controlling the class seems essential on the part of the teacher. And sometimes it is so essential that it even feels like it is pointed out a bit too frequently. As if the entire purpose of coming to school is for children to learn how to be managed effectively.

But that is not the only characteristic that defines the quality of a teacher here. Every teacher whose class I’ve visited has a distinct quality, and her class resonates with these qualities, giving every classroom a unique culture. There is so much to say about the classroom culture in each section I will probably dedicate another post to it.

I may not have liked that the teachers appeared ‘strict’, but I was greatly comforted by how they appeared to own this strictness. It wasn’t something that seemed to be handed down to them by someone else or by authorities. The teachers seem to have figured out through their own experiences the necessity of being strict in order to maintain a learning-favourable environment in the classroom. Of course, if the class size was smaller, I am sure the teachers would have had an entirely different approach. But the large size of the class seems something both teachers and students are aware of. And the comprises that have to be made along with them are something that students also seem to understand and respect. In fact, in my observations, I got a sense that the students are self-aware--to the extent that they realise that in being their natural ten year old self, they become restless and fidgety and can cause disturbances to the rest of the class. And they even seem to implicitly understand that what the teacher is doing is not to force them into undesired circumstances but as a means to help them learn better. And the children at this school love what they learn. And it seems the discipline they ought to adhere to has obvious rewards--that come to them in the learning activities they get to participate in. So that, somewhere in all this, the students have respect for the teachers’ strictness.

In my own schooling, and then later on in my time as a teacher, I have fought with the idea of a strict teacher. It was something that did not appeal to me at all. But then I also realise that what students need unconsciously, and look for, is a teacher who is also an adult figure they can look up to. They don’t have to serve the function of a friend alone. If it is an established understanding that the teacher is wiser and more mature and capable of helping you, that serves as a solid foundation on which to build classroom dynamics.

I like that I entered the classroom with my own set of assumptions and that during the process of observation, I saw some of my most solid assumptions be put to the test. It helps to have your assumptions challenged because that always offers opportunities for learning and for self improvement. I may not be as strict a teacher--for every teacher comes with their own personal qualities. But this certainly helps me view teachers who are strict in a different and appreciative light.