School started off at a very slow pace – much like all life
here. Without the heady forces of civilization dictating our every move, life
here is laconic and incredibly peaceful. Additionally, I had arrived just in
time for the kids and their unit tests which are pretty much like midterms for
my North American audience.
It all really started, like most things, on a Monday. Aunty
told me she would take me to the school since I did not know where it was. We
set out, after a healthy breakfast of some delicious aalo parathas, through the back gate. The roads of Spituk village
are incredibly scenic themselves – sometimes enthused with an ancient strength
of rock and sometimes made of the modern hardness of cement. Sometimes lined
with houses on both sides so that you’re surrounded by an army of beautiful and
ornate windows and doors, whilst other times you’re flanked by lush green
poplar trees swaying in the breeze and a little rivulet gushing by your side. They
can be so wide so that cattle, humans and dogs can move together towards their
destinations in either direction, or so narrow that single file is the only
option for man or beast. Auntyji took
me through all of this in pretty much a straight line from the house we live
in, until we came upon a majestic looking stupa which was nothing but a hardy
grey rock carved into a dome with a spire on top and some stunning Buddhist
paintings.
From there, we took a left up a little earthen ramp that ran
towards some stairs despite another path that ran straight. When I inquired
upon why we hadn’t taken the straight road, Auntyji showed me a lovely image of
the Buddha sculpted onto a giant slab of flat rock that we saw once we climbed
down the stairs. She said, if I went pass this in the morning it’d bring me
good luck. She said it’d be alright if I took the straight path in the evening
when I’m coming home. Not wanting to refuse some good luck on my first day I
just nodded and smiled.
We trudged onward through a road that took us to some open
fields that showed me once again that I was truly living in a paragon of
natural grandeur. In a rush of 5 minutes that took me up and down some gentle
hills I had reached the little red door of the Spituk Monastery (Gompa) School.
Auntyji turned the circular metallic hatch and with a groan of Monday morning
blues the heavy door swung open. At once my eyes were greeted with a flurry of
red whizzing by me. Little monklings garbed in different shades of red from
crimson to a light shade that the sky spills at sunset, about waist-high were going
about their morning chores. Upon Auntyji telling them that I was to be their
new teacher, some shied away with a look of apprehension whilst others beamed
with joy and shouted a jubilant ‘’Good morning Sirji!’’ at me. I greeted them back and followed Auntyji through the
kitchen and onwards towards the dining hall where the senior most monk who we
call ‘’Bade Guruji’’ welcomed me with
a beaming smile and a Namaste and I
reciprocated with a ‘’Julay’’!
I then bid Auntyji goodbye and was escorted upstairs to meet
Ranjit and Jigmet Sir. Ranjit is a young man about my age, from the equally mountainous
Himachal Pradesh of India, and is an incredibly kind and polite human being and
has become a good friend over these 2 weeks. Jigmet sir, who’s much older
(perhaps in his late 30s), too was incredibly warm and welcoming when I greeted
him. He also happens to be a local and proficient in English and therefore the
school’s English teacher. Ranjit is the Hindi teacher and has lived in Ladakh
for the past 3 years.
At once I was faced with an onslaught of questions, both
personal and professional, but I was quite ready for this because it’s pretty
much what I experienced with my host family. Its nothing to take offense at for
the people here at incredibly well-meaning and good natured and if you face
similar circumstances take it as a compliment for they want to get to know you.
It just denotes their excitement and eagerness in getting to know your
acquaintance. Once these exchanges had been made was I told that there would be
no teaching for this entire week for the kids have their unit tests. I was
quite relieved to be honest, for I was a bit jittery about jumping straight
into the classroom and starting teaching without getting to know the students
or the faculty. A week was good enough to do both!
Soon the kids started filing into the main corridor where
the exams are taken which makes invigilating that much easier as you have a
direct line of sight on each and every one of the students. I was assured that
this was not necessary for the kids are mostly honest and upright but there’s
always the sneaky one in the bunch so precaution is always advisable. Agreeing
with this completely, I too set about invigilating keeping a keen eye on all
the students. The first day was Bothi, which is what the local Ladakhi language
is called – and I couldn’t possibly help the kids so I sat at the very end of
the corridor and just had a nice chat with the teachers. Some are just normal
civilians whilst others are monks.
All of them though made me feel very welcome and from Day 1
told me I had complete freedom to teach the way I wanted. It’s a liberating
feeling for an educator to be given that kind of autonomy because it gives you
a kind of flexibility that can only lead to a heightened sense of learning and
an atmosphere of amicable trust. Soon the two hours passed in quite a hurry and
lunch time was upon us. Lunch is prepared by the school cook and is a simple
but hearty meal of dal, rice and a vegetable of some sort – either spiced
eggplants or beans sautéed in some masala or a simple vegetable mix that’s
incredibly nutritious and delicious. Also a spicy chilli salad or chilli powder
is served with the food to be taken at your own discretion.
After a delicious meal I was stuffed and school was closed for
the day. This is when I was told the school has a relatively stable internet
connection and that made my heart leap! I hadn’t properly conversed or been in
touch with my electronic world for quite a while and when I finally typed in
that password for my facebook account it felt like those old connections were
returning. Additionally, I already had a massive volume of pictures that needed
uploading.
This is pretty much how the week transgressed with each day
a new familiarity dawning upon me and slowly the kids started trusting me
enough that they actually began asking questions about myself and the subjects
I was going to teach.
They’re an incredibly inquisitive bunch and they’re always
smiling and full of a kind of mirth that only makes me realize how wonderful a
thing childhood is. Despite the rigours of education and it’s almost race-like
trend these days, these kids take pleasure in playing with marbles and enjoying
a piece of chocolate to the last bite or having that laugh, not at the expense
of one another, but along with each other.
This is what I’ve learnt in this short stay at Ladakh and I
hope to learn a lot more. A teachers job is a derivative of the word ‘teach’
but there is so much more to the endeavour that I have only begun and all it takes is an
open mind, an attitude of enthusiasm and a whisp of a smile.