NK SINGH
The
primary school where I learnt my first alphabet had a tiled roof and mud flooring. The small building sat right
on a dirt road, the main artery of the village, that winded its way to railway
station around yellow mustard fields, mango orchards, aromatic fields of
aniseed and a serpentine lake where lotus flowers bloomed and exotic migratory
birds feasted.
The beauty of its surroundings could not hide the poverty of the
school, whose only property consisted of a couple of broken chairs and desks
for teachers; pupils were expected to bring their own mats on which they could
sit cross-legged and study. Often they would bring a gunny sack from home that
would also, sometime, double as a school bag.
Every
morning, before the prayer assembly, the young scholars were expected to sweep
the school premises. On Saturdays they were supposed to collect cow dung, make
a paste and then spread a thin layer on the mud floor, making it free of dirt
for the next seven days. It was also the day they were given trowels to plant flower
plants, weed out grass and water flower beds in the school compound.
Many
of us had never touched a broom at home.
That
impoverished primary school was my first lesson in cleanliness, long before
Government had started levying a half per cent Swachch Bharat cess. It was also
my first lesson in dignity of labour. The children, and their parents, thought
that keeping their school clean was a part of their education. Which it was.
Hence,
I was taken aback when government school teacher came into line of fire for
making a student of class eight hold mike for her so that she could read out a
speech from a written draft. She was speaking at a function in school premises
and did not have access to a mike stand. The child had to stand for 15 minutes
on the stage, holding the microphone.
Childline,
an organisation that subsists on government grants, was enraged at the student’s
“humiliation”. It complained to everyone
except the United Nations and President of India ---- MP Commission for
Protection of Child Rights, child welfare committee and District Education
Officer. Armed with a video recording of the earth shattering event, it also decided
to share details with media for better impact. Some newspapers published the
story next day as if skies had fallen.
The
response of the powers that be was amazing. The school authorities were on the
defensive. The DEO promptly sought explanations from the school principal and
the concerned teacher. Minister Uma Shankar Gupta, who was on the dais, tried
to wriggle out as if he had been asked to testify at a murder trial. The
incident, he claimed, did not happen in his presence. Bhopal Mayor Alok Sharma
declared that the incident was “unbearable” and the “guilty” should be
punished!
Guilty
of what?
Making a student hold a mike for his teacher for 15 minutes at a
school function?
What is wrong if a student helps his teacher at a school event?
Should she get a hired help for holding the mike? Many students may, actually, consider
it a privilege to help their teachers at a school function.
One
can understand reactions of self-seeking activists or even rookie reporters
regarding this incident. But one cannot understand why officers, who are
supposed to run the system, buckle so easily under pressure from self-righteous
activists.
Often,
one comes across sensational reports, in which activists are frothing at mouth
with indignation on finding out that students were made to clean their classrooms.
In one incident in Vindhya region activists created a ruckus because rain water
had entered school building and desperate teachers enlisted their students in
shifting office records and examination papers.
Many
overzealous activists go around with spy cameras to trap such errant teachers.
The sight of a broom or a trowel in the hands of a student or any symbol of
manual labour is like showing red flag to these bulls in a china shop. Some of
them might be well meaning, but they end up inculcating contempt for manual
labour in children’s mind.
One shudders to think what may happen if schools try
to make students clean the toilets that they use! All hell will break loose,
certainly, at this physical torture. In their twisted mindset, it is a job
reserved for sweepers, which in fine print means a particular caste in India.
I
wish they would learn from Praveen Kumar, a Haryana cadre IAS officer. Kumar was
the deputy commissioner of Faridabad in 2011, much before the Swachch Bharat
Mission. During a school visit, students complained to him that the toilets remained
dirty because only one sweeper was employed. One could not even enter it the
day sweeper would be on leave. The school had 3,000 students.
The deputy
commissioner went home and returned after a couple of hours, this time armed
with a broom, a bucket, phenyl and a packet of detergent. He entered the toilet
and, 20 minutes later, left it sparking clean. He also left behind him an example.
Published in DB Post of 9th July 2017
(Email: nksexpress@gmail.com. Tweeter
handle: @nksexpress.)
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