Into the Great Wide Open

It takes a while to figure that the circular structure sticking out like a sore thumb on top of the house is a helipad. A house with a helipad is not exactly a common sight in any part of India, let alone in a remote corner of Raichur district.  Yet here it is, standing tall and large amidst other humble residences. Obviously, even in the most under developed regions of India, someone has the resources to find their own solution for bad roads. 

A few kilometers away, lies a small town called Sajjalgudda. A mere two hundred people reside here. It has got a primary school, a high school, a junior college and a teacher's training college. Education must be the highest priority. The principal of the teacher's training college is well qualified, has thirty years of experience and takes pride in his role of preparing teacher educators. Over 90% of the students are women. All the faculty are post graduates. The college itself boasts of good infrastructure with a lab, well equipped library and spacious class rooms. Overall, the mood is upbeat.

Discussions done, directions are asked for the rest room to one of the faculty members. He points to the vast open fields around. Like, there you go. He says, the college does not have any restrooms at all. For a second, I wonder if I heard it right! Yes, he says, we do not have toilets. Unbelievable. Why so? Funds were allocated but the management felt it was not really needed and diverted it to other important requirements. And adds with a wry smile, people here prefer the open spaces. Sounds absurd, especially in a college having so many women students. A town full of educational institutions and well qualified residents does not give priority to sanitation. If there could be an house with a helipad, wonder why not toilets!

ASHWAS, a study conducted by Arghyam, an NGO focused on sanitation and hygiene, reveals some interesting statistics. Apparently in rural Karnataka, 72% of the people defecate in the open, with the number going upto 98% in Raichur district. Reality does stink. And 80% of those who defecate in the open actually find it inconvenient and do so, mainly due to financial constraints of constructing a toilet. The study also indicates that a majority of school toilets, though present, are defunct. Shocking truths, when infact, one would think the schools & colleges should be enforcing the use of toilets. If generations till now have gotten used to this, shouldn't we atleast ensure that the next generation learns the right sanitary habits? Raichur district has 2400 government schools, which effectively implies a school every few kms and I'd think they are the best places to start with. It will have a strong influence in the neighborhood and maybe over a period of time help in improving the sanitary conditions. Also, functional toilets in schools will have a positive impact on the retention of girls in schools, as girls usually tend to drop out of schools primarily due to lack of such amenities.

And as I bid goodbye to the Sajjalgudda college, I notice a student venturing into the fields. 

Into the Great Wide Open, A rebel without a clue? Tom Petty's song definitely rings a different bell.

Textbook or Passbook?

It is a rocky ride through some verdant countryside for about a hundred kilometers from Yadgir. Narrow roads, small hamlets dot the way. Population is sparse, yet the lack of civic sense and general hygiene stares starkly at you. It has just rained, the fields are disarmingly green, though the monsoon has been disappointing this year. Talikoti emerges in a couple of hours. It seems to be an unpretentious town with a no nonsense look going about it's own business. Roads are empty. For anyone used to Bangalore's clogged roads, it appears to be a town under curfew.

The private degree college at Talikoti, has close to thousand students spread across the Arts and Commerce streams. There are no Science degrees offered. Campus is fairly large, the classrooms are buzzing. Students though are a bit reticent in their remarks. Gender lines are clearly drawn, with one side of the classroom taken by the girls and other by the boys. Aspirations run high, ranging from taking a shot at the Indian Administrative Service (IAS) to acquiring a doctorate. Some of them want to start working, many want to be teachers. An encouraging sign.

The faculty seems very knowledgeable. They say that Talikoti's economy is driven primarily by two factors - the agricultural trading center, one of the largest in the district and the education 'market'. Crops grown in nearby towns are sold at the trading center. No industries exist in the town, so there are also no engineering colleges. Infact, there are no colleges offering even a science degree! Though, there was a time when a few companies producing edible oil had been present.  But then, they had to shut shop due to unfavorable factors such as salty ground water and lack of suitable infrastructure. 'We don't take any risks. So, we stay where we are.', says one of the teachers who has been living there for a long time. Another one says, 'We are the Education Capital of Karnataka.' Now, thats a strong claim. 

Apparently there is a large market for coaching. Over a hundred private coaching centers exist in Talikoti. And they keep sprouting up. Most are residential. Students are charged anywhere between Rs.6000 to Rs.18000 an year as fees. These coaching centers do not offer any 'formal' education; neither do they help students with their curriculum. They focus on equipping the students to clear the Common Entrance Test (CET). Many teachers choose to jump onto this coaching bandwagon, as it offers a livelihood. A few conscientious ones prefer not to. As one of them said it is a choice between the textbook and the passbook. And the student profile? Primary school kids! Yes, children aged between nine and twelve, stay in residential schools and slog it out to clear entrance exams for getting admissions to sixth standard in the so-called good government schools. Children from many parts of the state come over to enroll at these centers. Regular school is given a pass, though children do register in the schools to ensure they progress. So, thats the capital being built by the Education Entrepreneurs.  Its very similar to places like Kota in Rajasthan, which has a thriving economy built on top of the coaching centers preparing students for the IIT JEE. Whereas a seat at the famed IITs might pave the way for a very bright future, it is not clear what is the lure for children to break into government high schools. Especially, if it comes at the cost of childhood. 

Seriously, do we need entrance exams at that level?

First Cut*

Kembhavi is a tiny hamlet in Yadgir district, which probably got its few seconds of fame from Anurag Behar's Mint column (http://www.livemint.com/2012/07/11213725/Surpur-ke-Sholay.html). The government school there presents an odd picture. A small portion in front of the school has been demolished. It happens to be the toilet. The teacher says, the government had demolished it to widen the road. Isn't this a *government* school? Two different parts of the same government machinery at loggerheads with each other. Ironic indeed. What next? The lady teacher shrugs haplessly and says, "What to do? We've to get on with running the school." Well, whatever that means! Clearly, a case of civic sense going down the drain.

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Moving onto another govt school in the vicinity, we interact with a group of school teachers. It is a very lively discussion, ranging from the state of the local economy to lack of opportunities for qualified B.Eds. As we finish the interaction and step out, I'm greeted by a gentleman with his dog. He urges the dog to 'shake-hands' with me. He tells me, the dog lifts it paw to shake hands. I shudder, as I've a feeling it might not stop at just shaking my hand - maybe it might want to taste some urban meat. To my immense relief, the dog decides to disappoint its master - whilst am saved the tough decision of which hand to stick out. The gentleman then says, "I'm the headmaster here." And I wonder, if teaching can be so addictive.

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The large desk is quite grand with all the standard accoutrements. Pin cushions, pen holders, bells and a few thick files placed neatly on a glass top. Though the principal seated behind looks a bit apologetic. He speaks in a measured tone about the ills that plague his B.Ed college and the system in general. His faculty is much more vocal. All are postgraduates. Some feel, the one year program should be run tighter; some say, there should be more science graduates. As the topic of salary comes up, there is a brief moment of uneasy silence. Then, the principal says, its difficult to sustain a livelihood with the paltry amount of five to six thousand rupees the faculty gets paid every month. But, he says, the teachers use the opportunity to learn and equip themselves to move onto better jobs. And it strikes me, the principal must be a good leader. The open culture he has fostered is impressive. He has no hesitation in letting his faculty speak up; neither does he have any reservations in letting them go, if it means a better future for them. But, it also strikes me, that there's no computing device on that desk. Shouldn't that be the standard accoutrement?

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It smells like the sanctum santorum of a temple. Its a small dingy room. Power's gone, a candle provides the light at 11 am in the morning. The weather's very pleasant as its a cloudy day outside - can't imagine how it will be in peak summer when temperatures can hit a scorching 48 deg C. We are here to meet with a government official from the Education Department. He is very cheerful, greets us with a big smile, offers us tea. He has very strong views on what needs to be done in his region to improve the learning levels. He seems quite tech savvy too - has got a computer on his table & he says he'll send all requested information over email. He has a clear vision - in the next few years, he wants his region to shoot up to the top on high school results. His unbridled optimism amidst all that gloom is infectious. Hope is a good thing  - as Andy Dufresne says in Shawshank Redemption.

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The principal is a frail, young lady with a high frequency voice. She urges her students to open up and participate in the discussion. There are 85 of them, all girls. We are in a women's B.Ed college in Gulbarga city, an urban patch on the rural landscape we are traversing through.

The few girls who choose to speak are guarded in what they say. A common aspiration after acquiring a B.Ed degree seems to be pursuing higher studies or in some cases even a Ph.D. Indeed a laudable goal, but somehow sounds hollow. Is it fear of the principal or is it just sheer lack of confidence? When we interact with the faculty later, one of them says, typically more girls choose to do a B.Ed as it increases their 'marketability' in the marital market, gives them respect and potentially brings down the dowry too. Or, one wonders, does it potentially pave the way for a recurring 'dowry' on a monthly basis?

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*from an erstwhile techie observing life through a different lens

The Teachers' Paradox

Akkamahadevi, my colleague at the Azim Premji Foundation, is eloquent in her views as to the state of teacher education in Yadgir - Karnataka's newest district. And officially the most backward in the state. She says every household has at least one person with a B.Ed degree - which is obtained after graduating in Arts or Science. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but it implies there must be a staggering number of qualified teachers in the district. She should know, having studied and held faculty positions in the district colleges.

Lots of teachers clearly, but hardly any positions to be filled up in the much sought after government schools, where the pay scales are quite attractive. Akkamahadevi feels Yadgir has enough teachers to meet all requirements coming from the government for the next 20 years! A lopsided situation, where supply far exceeds demand. Ironically, the country needs over a million teachers in the next 5 years, to address the RTE mandate of having one teacher for every 30 students. 

So, where do these teachers go?

A possible answer emerges from a non-descript private school, located in a crowded market place of Surpur. Taking a cab to the school is not exactly a good idea, unless one believes automobiles need to be fed vegetables. As one enters the steel gates, the large playground provides a striking relief and a pleasant sight to the chaos outside.You notice a few goats out there and can't help wonder if any of them have attended classes. Or, from the bored looks, maybe they decided lounging outside might be a better idea. Children in the first standard class seem quite excited though. The lady teacher is making them recite names of various animals and the class goes up in a loud chorus. It is a very vibrant atmosphere, the children are in colorful dresses, as it is a Wednesday and they are allowed to skip wearing uniforms - proving very clearly, that one can't judge a school by goats on the ground! The teacher profiles are impressive. Almost all of them have a B.A B.Ed or a B.Sc B.Ed. Highly motivated, eager to teach and very bright. Very articulate in their views when asked about the state of teacher education in the district. Then, comes the shocker. They are paid a grand sum of Rs.2000/- per month, a pittance by any standards. Apparently, many settle for it, as it still gives them valuable experience on the resume - while waiting for that elusive government school job. A government job pays ten times more. Infact, elusive might be an understatement, as apparently 78000 teachers applied for a mere 2000 positions advertised by the government - after a 3 year hiring freeze. Or, in other words, it means, 1 in 39 applicants will hit that jackpot.

So, why then do so many choose to do a B.Ed or want to be teachers?

Akkamahadevi says very simply - there is just no other choice. No engineering or medical colleges in the vicinity, as there are no industries to absorb any technical graduates. Its a region highly dependent on rains to boost its agrarian economy. Its the most affordable option too. The few who are better off, migrate to other regions to pursue more rewarding degrees.

And you are left wondering. And overwhelmed. At an India vastly different from Brand Bangalore.

Note: Akkamahadevi has an M.Sc, M.Phil, M.Ed and she strongly believes there is clear need for a high quality B.Ed program in the district.