|
I undertook training in Kindergarten education at the Children’s Garden
School in Chennai in 1978. In October of that year, I had my introduction to
the Krishnamurti School. I knew nothing about Jiddu Krishnamurti and
presumed the school to be like any other school, where the emphasis would be
on developing the three Rs, with all learning centered around this. To my surprise,
I found the school in Poes Garden a veritable Parnashala, a Kutira, much like our
ancient gurukulas.
The headmistress, Mrs. Chinna Oommen, a gentle, kind, patient lady, merely
glanced through my books, materials and certificates, which I thought were allimportant
at an interview! She gave me a gentle pat and bowled me over with
sincere queries about myself, my family and my interests. I could not have asked
for a more informal, yet warm interview. She then invited me into an aesthetically
arranged room, where eight children, seated on mats, awaited us.
Chinnakka, as she is fondly referred to by all, then asked me to speak with
or sing to the children. I was speechless. I had not bargained for this very
different classroom environment, or for such a strange technique to engage the
children! My diffidence made me aware of how difficult it was for me to say
anything at all to the little children in front of me. I did not know how to handle
this freedom of expression given to me!
Chinnakka, sensing my confusion, took over spontaneously and for the
next few minutes I was enthralled as I watched her interact so naturally with the
children. Soon she got up to leave, looked at me encouragingly and simply
stated, ‘Now you take over!’ This implicit, unquestioning faith in a novice like
myself was a bolster to my sagging confidence. I sang to the children, spoke with
them and before I knew it, all barriers had dropped.
My journey as a kindergarten teacher had begun.
‘A shared responsibility’
I came to the school with my own traditional upbringing, my conditioning,
my ideas about discipline, obedience and conformity. I realized soon enough
that a subtle but sure transformation was going on within me as I progressed in
the school. Very quickly, I realized that the children needed demonstrative
affection, care and understanding. A timid child is afraid to explore and needs
encouragement. A hyperactive child needs challenge for his energy. A curious
child needs a stimulus and an aggressive child needs soothing. Thus I saw each
child needing a different response from me. I came to the realization that as an
adult I must be tremendously patient – to listen, understand, watch and guide
the children. Thus everyday was new, it brought different challenges for me as a
teacher, and more so as a person.
The first two weeks of school, for me and the children, were spent in
getting to know each other to develop a positive relationship. Slowly, the parents
of my students began asking me for suggestions and seeking my advice on how to
deal with their children. Some of these questions have not changed over the
years.
- I am a working mother. I find my child being violent at home in my absence.
What should I do?
- My child wants to go to school even when he is sick. How should I address
this?
- My child does not want to go to school. What could be the reason?
- My child does not say anything about what has happened at school. Why?
- My child does not like her younger sibling. Why?
- My husband is away for long periods at work, and I am unable to handle the
child’s pranks. What do I do?
- Our relationship is turning sour and our child is getting trapped. What do
we do?
Krishnaji’s views on relationship strengthened my own convictions as I
worked through these questions. These sessions with parents also brought
home to me the fragile nature of relationships and enhanced my own awareness
of my interactions with my colleagues, co-workers, helpers, my family, friends
and other children at school.
‘Neither the teacher nor the taught’
I heard about Krishnaji’s advice to teachers – do not let children simply
identify objects by their name - by naming the object, our perception of the
object diminishes. Initially, I did not understand this in its totality. I decided to
experiment for myself and discover the truth of this statement. I chose a tree
and sat in front of it, seriously looking at it, pushing the word ‘tree’ as far back in
my mind as possible. I tried to look at the tree without the name. Soon it
dawned on me that I was so absorbed in the actual looking, that I had perceived
a lot more than when I had looked earlier.
This experience of a whole new dimension to learning thrilled me beyond
words. A sensitivity to my own learning was born. This insight into the great
possibility of learning differently, encouraged me to allow the children to observe
nature without any labeling or preconceived ideas. My nature walks with them
took on a different hue.
I began letting the children take the lead and I followed behind, observing
them. They explored the campus with earnest enthusiasm, immense curiosity,
an excited sense of adventure and the joy of discovery. They watched ant holes,
butterflies, parrots in their perches, the slow moving snails, and brought back to
me amazingly tiny grass flowers, which my adult eyes had not noticed till then.
This, in a way, was great learning for me too, bringing alive Krishnaji’s
words – ‘In learning, there is neither the teacher, nor the taught – there is only
learning’ and ‘the school is a place of leisure where the educator and the one to
be educated are both learning’!
Sometimes we sat under a tree and closed our eyes for a while. We later
shared our experience of the various sounds we had heard in our silence. I soon
found myself looking forward eagerly to these walks.
‘Developing serious thinking’
By this time I had read Krishnamurti’s Letters to the Schools – about jealousy,
comparison, sensitivity, thinking globally, awakening curiosity, questioning,
analysing and thinking critically. I was eager to implement some of my responses
in my classroom activities.
Developing serious thinking at a very early age by encouraging children to
question everything around, was one of the themes I explored. My children and
I discussed every topic and held conversations about every activity. We gave each
other the freedom to express ourselves as we were and not as we were expected
to be. Some of the questions and statements went like this:
- Why do the lion and tiger kill other animals?
- My baby sister pulls my hair and grabs my toys.
- Why is the bucket of wet sand so heavy?
- Where do these baby snails come from?
- Where are the millipedes and ladybugs going?
- Akshay is throwing stones inside the fish tank.
In discussing these, I could see the children beginning to respond to serious
thinking, to analysis and to drawing conclusions for themselves.
Once we spoke about birds and their habitat. The conversation lingered on
free flight, the joy of spreading wings and soaring up to the sky. One girl said she
feeds the lovebirds at home that are in a cage. This led us to talk about how a
caged bird would feel, how animals in the zoo feel, and how we would feel if we
were caged. The next day she came skipping into school unable to contain her
joy. She had let the lovebirds free the moment she had got home the previous
day. Such interactions gave me the profound insight that even a four year-old
child can analyze, reason and also take decisions, and stand firmly by them.
‘Watching and facilitating I learned more’
I found that the environment I created was conducive to a keen observation
of the natural behaviour of children, for they felt free to express themselves
without inhibition. In the classroom children had access to various activities.
The freedom that every child experienced was to make a choice of activity, 108
adding a dimension to self-learning. Each child learned at his or her pace with no
fear of competition or comparison. The most liked activity would be attempted
first and then there would be a slow exploration of other things around the class.
The space to explore, discover, try, manipulate and learn, enabled children to
remain highly motivated.
The skills that I intended to develop in the children were carefully chosen
and laid out before the children arrived. Eventually every child would have
developed all the skills by moving from one activity to the other. This arrangement
also enabled me to remain in the background, available, watching and facilitating.
I learned more about my children, their interests, strengths and weaknesses,
their work habits, social relationships and much more.
To me, the happy child is a willing learner. Hence my priority was always to
ensure that the child is comfortable within himself at the start of the school day.
Whenever I noticed a child with a sad face, head hung, insecure, ailing, in pain or
afraid, my first action was to identify the cause of discomfort, attempt to overcome
it with understanding and affection, and get the child back to his natural happy
self.
One such dramatic experience of a child who held a dormant fear was
revealed to me during classroom activity. This boy usually interacted well with
his peers, had a healthy appetite for play and smiled cheerfully all the time. That
morning during indoor activity I distributed papers to the children for drawing
and colouring. As I handed one to him, he burst into uncontrollable loud cries,
and threw the paper down screaming, ‘I don’t want to draw!’ I was taken aback
by the sudden outburst. I took him aside, spoke with him and assured him that
he need not draw if he did not wish to. However, he would not stop crying. I
soothed him as best I could, and knowing that his favourite spot was the doll
house, I led him there to be with his friends. He slowly calmed down and felt
reassured.
Later I spoke with the mother who solved the puzzle for me. Her older
child who studied elsewhere brought home piles of homework. The mother
had to force and pressurise the child to complete her work. The boy had
witnessed his sister’s plight, and being a sensitive child, associated what he saw
with paper and pencil and had interpreted the situation as a punishment. His
fear and crying were understandable.
The mother and I discussed what needed to be done at home to relieve the
situation. To make him feel secure and happy in class, I made sure that he had the
freedom not to draw or colour till he was ready for it. I saw that as he moved
through other activities, he observed the other children while they coloured
and had fun. As I expected, one fine day he asked for a paper and settled down
to draw. He never looked back!
‘Learning at lunchtime’
The need for the right kind of food to keep the body healthy in young
children cannot be overemphasised. In all K schools, a simple, nutritious,
balanced vegetarian meal is a must for all. At lunchtime, I would sit with the
children, serve them, talk to them, tell them about why they were eating, get
them interested in their food, encourage them to try new flavours and tastes, and
feed those who were still learning to eat by themselves.
Food and emotional well-being, I realised, are closely linked for the child.
A bonding occurs during lunchtime between the child and teacher, which is an
important avenue of relationship. The learning at lunchtime is also about the
value of food, table manners, and coordination skills. I dealt with the children
kindly, but firmly. There were many instances of parents sharing their gratitude
because the child’s eating habits had improved. Children who had thrown
tantrums earlier and had refused certain vegetables and fruits were now asking
for more.
‘A new challenge’
As the years have gone by, I see to my dismay that children are becoming
more violent and less sensitive to their surroundings. Among other things, I see
the advent of the television as particularly responsible for this. One child lived
in the ‘He Man’ world. He spoke the dialogues he had heard and was totally
unaware of his class environment. He preferred to be outdoors, using the slide
as his ‘domain’, and actually believed in the world of his imagination – the ‘He
Man’ world.
This was my first such experience after 13 years of teaching. I took it up as
a new challenge. I had a number of talks with the parents. They requested me to
mention it in the report, which would enable the grandparents to see what was
happening to the child due to their own addiction to the television. I also had a
number of serious conversations with the child, and gradually, with the parents’
cooperation, weaned him out of the predicament.
Each year thereafter, I have found more and more children having similar
problems and growing more aggressive. The time we now live in is fraught with selfishness, one-upmanship, competition, not to forget materialism and its hold
on us. I see that the earlier innocence among children, the joy and thrill of
learning, is diminishing very fast. I have realized that an understanding of
Krishnamurti’s vision of education is the need of the hour for young parents and
children. I see the challenge that Krishnamurti posed for teachers and schools
more relevant than ever before.
|
