Hope

The local paper has a number of editorials each week calling for reform of the public education system based on the amount of pressure the students must withstand. The competition for places at the best universities is stiff, and the lack of opportunities available for students who don’t score in the 95% range on their boards is real. Strangely enough, the 11th class year falls between exams, so the students I’m teaching worry less about my assignments than they do the tuitions they do after school with private tutors. All the same, the pressures are very real for all the students. Twice since we’ve been here, the same local paper has reported the suicides of teens distraught over their marks in their tuition classes—the practice sessions they attend to prepare for the board exams. Almost everyone agrees that something needs to change, but so far, no one has a clear idea of what should be done. As a culture, India seems to encourage dedication and endurance—which is possibly why students choose a career path at 15 and stick with it even if they don’t like it. While these values are admirable, they certainly don’t make it any easier to address problems in the model, or allow for correction of mistakes or changes.


But last week, we had the opportunity to see a different facet of the Indian educational system when we visited a school for deaf children. Here, kids from impoverished families who a generation ago might have been written off as burdens, are taught not only academics, but also a trade that will allow them to work in a cottage or craft industry. In a word, it was inspiring. The school was filled with smiling faces of children of all ages, eager to show off the rangoli floor art they’d made with grains to welcome us. They held copybooks out for our inspection, proudly pointed out the pictures they’d drawn that decorated the walls, and didn’t try to contain their joy at the feeling of words and sounds coming out of their mouths during the pronunciation lessons. In the rooms for older children, teens showed us their sewing, candles they had made and will sell in the upcoming Diwali festival of lights, woven chairs and stools, and even the beauty parlor where a haircut, massage, waxing and manicure runs a very reasonable 500 Rupees (about $12).


We also we able to witness something magical when the school’s benefactor and our tour guide presented two girls with their first hearing aids. The little girl in the photo is six years old and hearing sound for the very first time. I’ve heard people describe watching a child take its first steps, and this might be the closest I’ve ever been to such a miraculous moment. It was more than the fact that her eyes grew two sizes larger when the man flipped the switch on the device and spoke her name. It was more than the fact that we’d seen all those students displaying work that would make them self-sufficient. It was more than the fact that they were finding a place for themselves in a land that can sometimes be unkind to imperfection. It was the fact that for these children, hope was something real, something to be counted on, something sustaining. I was glad for the reminder.
Jen