[Assam] From NY Times

mc mahant mikemahant at hotmail.com
Thu Jan 17 08:30:51 PST 2008


Again   Very Sad!
But vested interests won't allow changes.
The whole nation is wasting all their time --and getting Nowhere.
India cannot with present Bando- bast!!
mm



> Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2008 08:58:47 -0600> To: assam at assamnet.org> From: cmahanta at charter.net> Subject: [Assam] From NY Times> > http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/17/world/asia/17india.html?_r=1&hp=&pagewanted=all> > > > > Education Push Yields Little for India's Poor> Ruth Fremson/The New York Times> > > Article Tools Sponsored By> By SOMINI SENGUPTA> Published: January 17, 2008> > > > The school in Lahtora was crowded and cold, so > classes were held outside. More Photos ยป> > LAHTORA, India - With the dew just rising from > the fields, dozens of children streamed into the > two-room school in this small, poor village, > tucking used rice sacks under their arms to use > as makeshift chairs. So many children streamed in > that the newly appointed head teacher, Rashid > Hassan, pored through attendance books for the > first two hours of class and complained bitterly. > He had no idea who belonged in which grade. There > was no way he could teach.> > Another teacher arrived 90 minutes late. A third > did not show up. The most senior teacher, the > only one with a teaching degree, was believed to > be on official government duty preparing voter > registration cards. No one could quite recall > when he had last taught.> > "When they get older, they'll curse their > teachers," said Arnab Ghosh, 26, a social worker > trying to help the government improve its > schools, as he stared at clusters of children > sitting on the grass outside. "They'll say, 'We > came every day and we learned nothing.' "> > Sixty years after independence, with 40 percent > of its population under 18, India is now > confronting the perils of its failure to educate > its citizens, notably the poor. More Indian > children are in school than ever before, but the > quality of public schools like this one has sunk > to spectacularly low levels, as government > schools have become reserves of children at the > very bottom of India's social ladder.> > The children in this school come from the poorest > of families - those who cannot afford to send > away their young to private schools elsewhere, as > do most Indian families with any means.> > India has long had a legacy of weak schooling for > its young, even as it has promoted high-quality > government-financed universities. But if in the > past a largely poor and agrarian nation could > afford to leave millions of its people > illiterate, that is no longer the case. Not only > has the roaring economy run into a shortage of > skilled labor, but also the nation's many new > roads, phones and television sets have fueled new > ambitions for economic advancement among its > people - and new expectations for schools to help > them achieve it.> > That they remain ill equipped to do so is clearly > illustrated by an annual survey, conducted by > Pratham, the organization for which Mr. Ghosh > works. The latest survey, conducted across 16,000 > villages in 2007 and released Wednesday, found > that while many more children were sitting in > class, vast numbers of them could not read, write > or perform basic arithmetic, to say nothing of > those who were not in school at all.> > Among children in fifth grade, 4 out of 10 could > not read text at the second grade level, and 7 > out of 10 could not subtract. The results > reflected a slight improvement in reading from > 2006 and a slight decline in arithmetic; together > they underscored one of the most worrying gaps in > India's prospects for continued growth.> > Education experts debate the reasons for failure. > Some point out that children of illiterate > parents are less likely to get help at home; the > Pratham survey shows that the child of a literate > woman performs better at school. Others blame > longstanding neglect, insufficient public > financing and accountability, and a lack of > motivation among some teachers to pay special > attention to poor children from lower castes.> > "Education is a long-term investment," said > Montek Singh Ahluwalia, the deputy chairman of > the Planning Commission and the government's top > policy czar. "We have neglected it, in my view > quite criminally, for an enormously long period > of time."> > Looking for a Way Up> > Arguments aside, India is today engaged in an > epic experiment to lift up its schools. Along the > way lie many hurdles, and Mr. Ghosh, on his > visits to villages like this one, encounters them > all.> > The aides who were hired to draw more village > children into school complain that they have not > received money to buy educational materials. Or > the school has stopped serving lunch even though > sacks of rice are piled in the classroom. Or > parents agree to enroll their son in school, but > know that they will soon send the child away to > work. Or worst of all, from Mr. Ghosh's > perspective, all these stick-thin, bright-eyed > children trickle into school every morning and > take back so little.> > "They're coming with some hope of getting > something," Mr. Ghosh muttered. "It's our fault > we can't give them anything."> > Even here, the kind of place from which millions > of uneducated men and women have traditionally > migrated to cities for work, an appetite for > education has begun to set in. An educated person > would not only be more likely to find a good job, > parents here reasoned, but also less likely to be > cheated in a bad one. "I want my children to do > something, to advance themselves," is how > Muhammad Alam Ansari put it. "To do that they > must study."> > Education in the new India has become a crucial > marker of inequality. Among the poorest 20 > percent of Indian men, half are illiterate, and > barely 2 percent graduate from high school, > according to government data. By contrast, among > the richest 20 percent of Indian men, nearly half > are high school graduates and only 2 percent are > illiterate.> > Just as important, at a time when only one in 10 > college-age Indians actually go to college, > higher education has become the most effective > way to scale the golden ladder of the new > economy. A recent study by two economists based > in Delhi found that between 1993-94 and 2004-5, > college graduates enjoyed pay raises of 11 > percent every year, and illiterates saw their pay > rise by roughly 8.5 percent, though from a > miserably low base; here in Bihar State, for > instance, a day laborer makes barely more than $1 > a day.> > "The link between getting your children prepared > and being part of this big, changing India is > certainly there in everyone's minds," said > Rukmini Banerji, the research director of > Pratham. "The question is: What's the best way to > get there, how much to do, what to do? As a > country, I think we are trying to figure this > out."> > She added, "If we wait another 5 or 10 years, you > are going to lose millions of children."> > Money From the State> > India has lately begun investing in education. > Public spending on schools has steadily increased > over the last few years, and the government now > proposes to triple its financial commitment over > the next five years. At present, education > spending is about 4 percent of the gross domestic > product. Every village with more than 1,000 > residents has a primary school. There is money > for free lunch every day.> > Even in a state like Bihar, which had an > estimated population of 83 million in 2001 and > where schools are in particularly bad shape, the > scale of the effort is staggering. In the last > year or so, 100,000 new teachers have been hired. > Unemployed villagers are paid to recruit children > who have never been to school. A village > education committee has been created, in theory > to keep the school and its principal accountable > to the community. And buckets of money have been > thrown at education, to buy swings and benches, > to paint classrooms, even to put up fences around > the campus to keep children from running away.> > And yet, as Lahtora shows, good intentions can > become terribly complicated on the ground.> > At the moment, the village was not lacking for > money for its school. The state had committed > $15,000 to construct a new school building, $900 > for a new kitchen and $400 for new school > benches. But only some of the money had arrived, > so no construction had started, and the school > committee chairman said he was not sure how much > local officials might demand in bribes. The > chairman's friend from a neighboring village said > $750 had been demanded of his village committee > in exchange for building permits.> > The chairman here also happens to be the head > teacher's uncle, making the idea of > accountability additionally complicated. One > parent told Mr. Ghosh that their complaints fell > on deaf ears: the teachers were connected to > powerful people in the community.> > It is a common refrain in a country where > teaching jobs are a powerful instrument of > political patronage.> > The school's drinking-water tap had stopped > working long ago, like 30 percent of schools > nationwide, according to the Pratham survey. > Despite the extra money, the toilet was broken, > as was the case in nearly half of all schools > nationwide.> > Thankfully, there was a heap of rice in one > corner of the classroom, provisions for the > savory rice porridge that is one of the main > draws of government schools. Except that Mr. > Hassan, the head teacher, said the rice was not > officially reflected in his books, and therefore > he had not served lunch for the last week.> > What about the money that comes from the state to > buy eggs and other provisions for lunch, Mr. > Ghosh asked? That too remained unspent, Mr. > Hassan explained, because there was no rice to > serve them with - at least not in his record > books.> > (Analysts of government antipoverty programs say > rice can be a tempting side income for > unscrupulous school officials; food meant for the > poor in general, though not at this particular > village school, is sometimes found diverted and > sold on the private market, but one of the > brighter findings of the Pratham survey was that > free meals were served in over 90 percent of > schools.)> > Mr. Ghosh went from befuddled to exasperated. > "You have rice. You have money. You prefer that > kids don't eat?" he asked.> > Mr. Hassan shook his head. He said he could only > cook what rice was in his records, or cook this > rice if a senior government officer instructed > him to do so. Mr. Ghosh went on to point out that > one of the aides had shown up more than an hour > late, and then with a crying baby in her arms. > Two teachers were altogether absent. Even Mr. > Hassan, Mr. Ghosh added, had pulled up a > half-hour late.> > "You're the head of this school," Mr. Ghosh told > him. "Only you can improve this school."> > Mr. Hassan fired back: "What are you talking > about? For the last 25 years this school wasn't > running at all."> > New Plans, Old Attitudes> > Mr. Ghosh could not dispute that. There were > times when the school doors did not open. One > father, an agricultural laborer, said he had > tried a few times to enroll his children but gave > up after the former principal demanded money. > Many parents in this largely Muslim village chose > Islamic schools because they were seen to offer > better discipline.> > Others saw no need to send their children to school at all.> > Mr. Ghosh, too, went to government schools, in a > small town in neighboring West Bengal state, > which is only slightly better off than here. But > if he dared skip class, he recalled, he would be > thrashed by his father, a public school > principal. The children of this village, he knew, > would not be so lucky. "When I first started > coming here," Mr. Ghosh recalled, parents "would > ask me, 'What are you going to give me? Your > porridge isn't enough. Because if I send my child > to herd a buffalo, at least he'll make 3 rupees.' > " Three rupees is less than 10 cents.> > One morning Mr. Ghosh reached the mud-and-thatch > compound of Mohammed Zakir, a migrant laborer who > goes to work in Delhi each year. Mr. Zakir's son, > Farooq, about 10 years old, was going to school > for the first time this week. And as Mr. Zakir > saw it, that was fine until Farooq turned 14, the > legal age for employment, when he too would have > to go work in Delhi. Keeping children in school > through their teenage years, the father said > flatly, was not a luxury the family could afford.> > Walking out of the Zakir family compound, Mr. > Ghosh looked utterly worn out. "If I don't get > this child in school," he said, "then his child > in turn won't go to school."> _______________________________________________> assam mailing list> assam at assamnet.org> http://assamnet.org/mailman/listinfo/assam_assamnet.org
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