The First Steps ...

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.