Hello, India! We just met, but I think you're all right.: December 27, 2012: Shapes of India: issquares, isstars, and hearts

“Triangle,” I said, pointing to the shape on the blackboard with “triangle” written beside it. A disjointed murmur came back from the kids seated in rows before the board.

“Three parts,” I said, holding up three fingers.

I turned sideways to the kids with my feet together and looked at the kids. They were sitting cross-legged, eyes bright and attentive. I hopped forward about a foot. A puff of dust arose where my shoes hit. “Tri!” I shouted.

“Tri!” they shouted.

I hopped again. “An!” I shouted.

“An!” they shouted.

I hopped again. “Gle!” I shouted.

“Gle!” they shouted.

“Tri-an-gle!” I said.

“Tri-an-gle!” they said.

"Tri!” I said.

“Tri!” they responded.

“An!” I said.

“An!” they responded.

“Gle!” I said.

“Gle” they responded.

“Tri-an-gle!”

I held my arms out to my sides and belted it out: “TRIANGLE!!!!!!!!!”

“TRIANGLE!!!!!!!!!” they yelled.

“TRIANGLE!!!!!!!!!” I yelled.

“TRIANGLE!!!!!!!!!” they yelled.

I crouched in front of a quiet girl and held my face close to hers. I smiled. “Triangle,” I whispered. The kids giggled. “Triangle,” she whispered back.

And on it went, with squares, circles, diamonds, rectangles, ovals, stars, and hearts. Then we’d review, as I pointed to a shape and hoped the kids remembered its name. Some did, and some didn’t. We’d practice again, and review again. Diamonds and hearts were the kids’ favorites. They had a hard time with ovals. They struggled to pronounce “square” and “star”—they instinctively added an initial “i” to the words, pronouncing “issquare” and “isstar.” John, Nutan, and I all tried to straighten this out but with limited success. Maybe there are no Hindi words beginning with “s.” Eventually we moved on—we had a lot of ground to cover and not enough time to pursue perfection.

School has to be fun because the kids don’t have to come. According to my understanding, India has regular school system in which attendance is compulsory (though our school is not a part of it), but these kids are left out of it. Although Indian law technically requires their attendance at an official school, as a practical matter, the law doesn’t reach these kids. There are three reasons. First, they live in the slum, and officials are simply less concerned with the attendance of these kids. Second, these children’s parents often require that they stay home to assist with domestic tasks like cleaning or caring for younger siblings. Third, these children’s parents—whether because of social conditioning or their personal values—sometimes do not emphasize education.

I can’t help but suspect that the vestiges of the caste system contribute to this. The caste system has been officially abolished, but I have a hard time believing that the social mechanisms that underpinned it disappeared as quickly as its legal recognition. In the American South, for instance, the social underpinnings of slavery—i.e., assigning blacks a status lower than that of whites—persisted long after the legal recognition of slavery had ended. So it must be with the caste system—social discrimination persists after legal abolition. The lower social status of the adults who live in slums may cause officials to care less about the future of slum children, and may contribute to slum parents’ conclusion that attaining an education would be pointless. And so, when all is said and done, if our kids decide not to come to school, nobody will make them.

After we finished with shapes, Meg passed out pieces of cardboard with frames as we’d done with the older children the day before. They had liked this exercise. First we distributed crayons for drawing pictures, and many of the same themes emerged today as yesterday—houses, flowers, and light sources. Then Meg distributed stickers of various shapes and colors to decorate the frames. I sat down in a circle of children to help with the stickers.

One girl sifted through the pile of stickers until she found a shape she liked. She held it in her hand, looked at it, and after a moment showed it to me. “Heart,” she said.

That’s what I was hoping for.