The restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful pursuit of inquiry

"Knowledge emerges only through... the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in this world" - Paulo Freire

Being a learning facilitator is so much more than going to do a job in a workplace. Or, as it has been in this last year, working on one's laptop, "zooming in" to children's homes, and somehow carrying on against the odds.

A few months ago, I enrolled for a Master’s Degree in Education with the University of the People, Pasadena, California. The first course I undertook was Education in Context: The History, Philosophy and Sociology, a course that was like a light at the end of the tunnel, providing a larger context in extremely trying circumstances when daily work sometimes did not make sense. In a world that was changing rapidly into something unrecognisable at times, revisiting the foundations of education, from its purpose to the role of educators in a changing world was an exercise in grounding oneself.

The inquiry that began with rediscovering the purpose of education in Unit 1 had an impact, daily, on how I began to see my work with learners. As a department coordinator (Theory of Knowledge - TOK), it also made me think about what sort of growth opportunities I open up for my colleagues in the department. This led to the creation of a Google Classroom for reading books together, watching films and series, collecting ideas from whatever we were working on in our study groups or anywhere else. The department started reading Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari, and we began a discussion on the discoveries we made. 

In my study groups, learners have always been co-travellers, so to speak. We are always on a journey together. While I do realize that I have a responsibility towards them, I always try to help them become owners of their own processes. I find that this makes them want to come to class, engage with the activities. One of our units, on knowledge and power, left them dumbfounded for a few minutes when I proved to them that I have no power over them. They had stated unequivocally that in this study group I had the most power. It took just a few minutes to show them that actually they did, at least over themselves and their own learning. This was a mental shift equivalent to a paradigm shift, a moment in which they felt compelled to make a decision - whether or not they would exercise that power in the interests of their own learning.  

In Unit 2, the History of Education, I have to confess that I went back several decades to the lecture theatre of my institute where I undertook my Bachelor's degree in Education. Revisiting the much-derided Macauley's Minute after so many years was also an eye-opener and I found that my position vis-à-vis that document had changed. The intervening years have brought real experiences that have cemented my belief that but for that Minute, I would been raised in a purdah milieu, not in the freedom I have often taken for granted. 

Unit 3 had me revisit many books that provided the foundation for my educational philosophy many years ago - including Ivan Illich's Deschooling Society. Of the many ideas that were introduced to me by that book, this one is the most stunning: "All over the world the school has an anti-educational effect on society: school is recognized as the institution which specializes in education. The failures of school are taken by most people as a proof that education is a very costly, very complex, always arcane, and frequently almost impossible task" (Illich, 1970). The world has changed immensely since he wrote those lines; but has it? In my study groups I find that students are not willing to become owners of their learning because they have been lulled into believing (much as their parents have) that just being physically present in the room will somehow imbue them with learning. Throughout the different social strata, this particular institution does more harm than good, and gets away with it.

The greatest rediscovery for me was, of course, Paulo Freire. "Classrooms die as intellectual centers," writes Shor, "when they become delivery systems for lifeless bodies of knowledge" (Shor, 1992). This is the passion with which I have approached education all my life. It reminded me of why I do so. Exactly why it has never made sense to "teach" but to "facilitate learning" and to constantly be a learner myself. I am privileged to have "met" Freire's work when I was starting out on this journey 33 years ago. It formed the basis of my beliefs and helped me to grow and become the facilitator I am. 

It doesn't surprise me, therefore, that I would choose to quote Freire as the epitome of my reason for being a learning facilitator: "Knowledge emerges only through... the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in this world" (Freire, 1971). I am that restless, impatient, hopeful human being, continuously pursuing meaningful experiences for myself and the learners in my class.

References

Freire, P. (2017). Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Penguin Modern Classics). S.l.: Penguin Random House UK.

Harari, Yuval Noah. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (pp. 112-113). Random House. Kindle Edition.

Illich, Ivan. Deschooling Society (I Grandi dell'Educazione) . KKIEN Publ. Int.. Kindle Edition.

NOVA. (n.d.). School of the future- What should the school of the future look like? Retrieved March 10, 2018, fromhttps://mass.pbslearningmedia.org/resource/nvsof-sci-futureschool/wgbh-nova-school-of-the-future-what-should-the-school-of-the-future-look-like/#.Wr13LIjwY64

Schor, I. (1992). Education is politics: Paulo Freire's critical pedagogy. In Paulo Freire: A critical encounter. [pdf] (pp. 24-36). Retrieved from eBook Central in LIRN.

 Adapted from one of my portfolio submissions for the course Education in Context: The History, Philosophy and Sociology.

The Womenfolk

As you know already, I do so despise the stereotypes that neuter women, preventing them from leading creative and exciting lives. The ones that make us feel constrained within our own homes, circumscribing existence to what the men will "allow" or not. [Who the hell are they to "allow" anyway but it would shock some to find this to be a universal phenomenon - one of those really negative trends that pervades cultures worldwide.]

But this peaceful scene in the park on a sunny winter afternoon, four elderly ladies on two benches, spied from my balcony, reminded me of my grandmother. 

My grandmother was the most incredible person of my childhood. Strong, beautiful, industrious, she was a matriarch who ruled the family with an gentle iron hand (I suspect). There are two predominant memories of her: one in the kitchen, or engaged in some sort of food production; the second, seated somewhere with her hands busily turning out the next woollen garment for the next lucky person in the family. In the second photo above, you can see how she doesn’t stop knitting even to smile at the photographer - my grandfather!

Every now and then, I want to imagine what she would have made of her life if she had had the choices that I have, or the ones that my daughter has. She was extremely well educated, but perhaps didn't have our degrees. Her creativity in the kitchen and in wool knew no bounds. One look from her could turn our knees to water when we were little. And simultaneously, she was a favourite as we grew older. 

Secretly, I have always believed that I was her favourite grandchild. (I am very sure the others - sibling and cousins will hotly contest this.) In spite of being the most rebellious, I was the one who took apart her sewing machine one summer when it had stopped working, figured out what was wrong, fixed it, and closed it up again. With a big smile, she prophesied that I would become an engineer like my grandfather. [Well, I had to rebel against that too!]

Of all five of us - my brother and my three cousins - I was the one who took to knitting and crocheting with a vengeance as well. I think she loved me even more for this! Between devouring the books in their library and eating absolutely delicious food through summer vacations, I also loved to churn out pieces crafted from wool while she watched with a mysterious smile.

However, the strongest memory I have of her is from one of my grandparents' annual visits to Delhi. As part of a theatre group, I was designing and painting these huge sets for a forthcoming production called "Sher Nikalkar Bhaga" which had an escaped lion on the rampage through a city. As the play was meant for children, the sets had to be huge and colourful, and painted like illustrations in a book. We had decided, after much research, to give it the look of traditional Indian paintings.

Needless to say, it required work. During the day I would attend college and at night I would go to the house in Nizamuddin where the group rehearsed. I would spend half the night painting (they were enormous 7 X 4 feet flats, and several of them), and sleep for a couple of hours before heading home at dawn. Shower - breakfast - college - repeat painting. 

So, my mother was really miffed - this girl, she stays out all night, I really don't know what she's up to - and had actually stopped talking to me. Along came my grandparents for said annual visit. During dinner, a few days before the shows were to begin, I asked everyone how many tickets I should reserve for them. My mother immediately said sternly that no one was going to watch the play - since I had been "behaving badly". I didn't say anything and continued to eat as a silence fell over the table. Then, in a soft and gentle voice my grandmother asked, "Onoo is doing a play and we won't go to watch it?" 

There was further silence. Later I realised that she was not asking a question but issuing a diktat in her typical style. No one else could have made my mother take her words back, but she did, and I was asked to reserve seats for everyone in the family. 

After the show, my mother came really very close to an apology as well. She saw the sets, the dimensions, the designs, and I think she realised that I had not been fooling around when I stayed out the whole night. It was perhaps the first time in my largely misspent youth that she approved of something I had done. Did my grandmother know this? I am sure she did. And more importantly, she was there to facilitate one of the longest-lasting ceasefires between my mother and me. She helped my mother to see beyond what must have seemed utterly erratic behaviour from her once-sweet little girl - to really see that there was some worth to the work I had undertaken for my theatre group.

So what would my grandmother have done with her life had she had the same opportunities that I have had? I imagine her as a doctor, a healer curing people by giving them sound advice not just for the body but for the mind and soul as well. I picture her as one of the topmost chefs of the country, creating new dishes, jams, preserves, marketing them to a vast public. Without stretching my imagination too far, I can even see her as an exclusive designer of her own unique clothing line.

That's me wondering about what she might have wanted to do with her life. But that is not what she did do. She looked after her entire clan, down to the last grandchild, making sure of our well being. And she was peaceful about that life.

Just like the womenfolk in the park, basking in the sun, knitting for someone in the family, making the most of whatever it is that the world thought fit to bestow upon them. They were not asked either about what they wanted to do with their lives. They make the most of it because that is the only truth they know. But the world lost, perhaps, a great doctor, a path-breaking chef, a brilliant designer... because it didn't think to ask.