Kolkata in the soul...

***There were some bombings in Mumbai as I was writing this. Kolkata is on red alert as a result. I will post what I have written, but I think I will take a little break to see what’s up…

I have procrastinated my first Kolkata blog as I have tried to grasp its significance to me. In the past few days I have gone through a full gamut of emotions - denial, fear (and loathing!), doubt, acceptance, exhilaration, nostalgia, and melting. It has been an absolutely incredible three days; and with the possible exception of the days leading up to my wedding, the most dense with pointed visceral experience.

When I last wrote, I was preparing to board the plane from Mumbai to Kolkata. I flew Kingfisher Airlines, which is run by the self-appointed Richard Branson of India - think of the "Most Interesting Man in the World" commercials for his persona and bravado. In his welcoming video, he even mentioned how the flight attendants are “personally selected by myself". I have no idea what that actually means, nor do I care to speculate. The fight itself was excellent, and the food was better than good.

I touched down in Kolkata at about 7:30pm local time and was met by my host teacher Sabyasachi Majumdar (Sachi!) and his friend and teaching colleague, Dr. Sabrata Basu. I felt as though I was a visiting dignitary: I had a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a warm enthusiastic welcome to my new home for the next three weeks. Our driver Madul was also there, and he has been our stalwart ever since – more on him later.

The air was 'close', stiffling with both heat and humidity. The traffic from the airport to the city was very bad, exacerbated by the terrible condition of the roads. As we passed throng after throng of people and scene after otherworldly scene of squalid poverty, I began to have the feeling that I should not only get to a phone as soon as possible and tell Suzi to cancel her trip here (we bought trip insurance), but that I should at least investigate what should happen should I decide to return before the exchange even begins. Yes...despite the presence and stoicism of both Sachi and Dr. Basu, I felt in imminent danger of a freakout and I wondered if I had made a colossal mistake in estimating my tolerance for the unknown.

The four of us navigated through a tangle of sketchy side streets looking for a Xerox machine. Since my host school is on a military base, we were forced to file some last-minute paperwork (with copies of my passport and visa) to let me into the compound. It was Sunday night at about 9pm, and the Kolkata alternative to a brightly-lit FedEx/Kinkos corner store was a dilapidated internet café-cum-copy shop in a run-down area in the Muslim district encompassing all of about 100 square feet. Sachi had the car stop a short distance later so that we could see the Hooghly River. With some trepidation, I stepped out, acutely conscious of being stared at by every pair (or in one case, single) eye. The only thing that passed my mind was, “What’s the minimum time I need to look at the river and race back to the car and still be polite to my host?”

We drove around a little more before we arrived at my accommodations. They were not at a hotel, but at the International Scholars House of the Ramakrishna Mission in the Golpark neighborhood. This place is certainly interesting to say the least. It is not a traditional ‘hotel’ – you have to apply to be able to stay, and justify it with some reason acceptable to the mission. The price is outstanding - $20/night which includes a large air-conditioned room with private bath, and three meals and two tea times. It is undoubtedly the best bargain I could find since ‘mid-range’ hotels are hard to find in Kolkaka – the extremes are available in the Taj Bengal and Oberoi Grand, but I didn’t think I could plop down some $3-400 per night on my stipend. It was dark when I arrived at the hotel, and since visitors are strictly forbidden after 10pm, I had to leave the only two people I knew in Kolkata at the front desk as the front desk clerk handed me an ancient key that looked like it was a prop from a pirate movie. Room A-7, upstairs, to the left. After waving goodbye to Sachi from the balcony, I juggled the lock and opened the door. When I flicked on the lights, a couple of small roaches scattered. The furniture was neat but industrial, and clearly from a different era. The heat and humidity was oppressive – even by Kolkata standards: 95 degreees and 97% humidity! – so I switched on the air conditioner. Cold air belched from it almost immediately and I began to unpack. My mind was numb as I debated whether to put my t-shirts in the shelf or in the closet. “Did I make a mistake?” was the mental soundtrack as I prepared for bed. I will give this experience the best effort I can for as long as I can last. I fell asleep with Michael Shermer’s “Why People Believe Weird Things” on my chest. I feel profoundly alone.

From what I have written, you might be wondering where I am now. Am I in Bozeman already? What happened? Not to be overly melodramatic, I slept on it, and woke with a new attitude. Since that time, I have not only decided to stay, but have grown to love Kolkata!

I woke up at about 5:30, refreshed, and took a soothing shower in preparation of my first day at school. We were to meet at 7:30, which precluded breakfast, since it starts promptly at that time. I grabbed a banana and met Dr. Basu and Madul for the trip to my school, the Kendriya Vidyalaya School, Command Hospital, in the Alipore neighborhood. We met Sachi near his train station – he commutes the 40km daily from his place to the north of Kolkata.

Kendriya Vidyalaya school back door

We arrived while the school was having the normal morning assembly in the school grounds, where all 1500 students and teachers meet for a morning prayer, the singing of the national anthem, and any general announcements. As we opened the doors to join them, I noticed a pair of nicely appointed chairs next to the speaker. She looked back and said that there were two special visitors to our school that will be with us the next two weeks, Sabyasachi Majundar, a KV teacher from a different school, and Scott Taylor, from Bozeman High School in the United States. I think they would like to say a few words to you. Mind you, it’s been less than a minute since we have arrived. Sachi took the mike first. While he was talking, all I could think about was, what am I going to say? – I had no idea I would be addressing the student body and staff. I thought about how I could lead in with an anecdote and just say hello. But that would be lame. Sachi looked over to me. After an student adjusted the microphone stand – for what seemed like an eternity – I could only think of the most banal things to say – “I want to learn much from you.” Blah, blah, blah,  “We are not so different.” I felt as though I was striking out, so I listened to the crazy portion of my brain in attempt to ‘be memorable’. Since the students are seated in rows according to their grade, I thought that this would be the perfect time to do “the wave”. Something was lost in translation, however, so I left the podium and got the group on the far left to start going and raced the 40m or so across the students, almost taking out another teacher and a pole in so doing, and back. The giggling of the students and stunned expressions from the teachers told me I at least made a first impression. I can’t say for sure yet that it was a good one!

In my effort to 'be cool' I forgot about the heat! As I took the mike again and thanked them for inviting me, I became painfully aware that my back and face were now literally dripping in sweat (teachers later confided in the principal that they were worried I was going to have a heart attack). I was brought a bouquet of flowers from a group of students, and seated next to the stage where a group of students performed a traditional Hindi dance for the occasion. It was set to a poem by Rabindranath Tagore (Nobel Laureate in Literature) and beautifully expressive in its execution. After the assembly, Sachi and I went to the principal’s office (thankfully air-conditioned!) to map out our plans for the day.

In the three days I have spent at the school, I have come to realize that the principal, Dr. Samal, is one of the finest educators I have ever encountered. She is generous, highly intelligent, compassionate, and an outstanding leader who exudes grace. Her workload is tremendous – from what I can tell, she is the only administrator for the school. In addition to what a principal does in the states, she also arranges substitutes (which can include several in a day - WITHOUT a bank of substitute teachers!) and every day personally hand signs hundreds of student workbooks. I suggested she get a stamp for the task, but she replied that it allowed her to get a feel for what the students are doing. She performs her job without complaint and with an infectious enthusiasm and optimism. Any school, anywhere in the world, would be lucky to have her at the helm. I feel blessed to be able to share her room throughout the day, infinitely more to hear her wisdom and insight than to feel the welcome blast of the AC.

My first “assignment” was to observe the X level (that’s ‘tenth’ for the Roman-numeral impaired, and roughly equivalent to the 10th grade in the US) in their science class. One main difference between American schools and Indian (and from what I hear European) schools is that the students stay in the same room, while the teachers move according to the schedule. The class had about 45 students and the lesson was on acids and bases. Even though the school is in India, all but a few courses are conducted entirely in English by both the teachers and students. I was completely impressed by the oral and written command of the students. Not a single student misspelled “phenolphthalein” - hear that BHS students! I sat in the back between a girl and boy who were brave enough to try to engage me in conversation while the lesson was going on. I didn’t want to be a distraction, but I also wanted to ask them a million questions. Before I knew it, the bell rang, and class was over. This was followed by recess; even though the students I am observing are mostly ‘high-school’ aged, their daily break is still called recess. I thought it might be interesting to see what the students did during this time. When I stepped out the doors, I was immediately mobbed by about 50 boys bombarding me with questions and introductions. I even had a couple of autograph requests. Yes, I am a rock star at the KVCH school! The girls stood back from the mob and giggled at any semblance of eye contact. Sachi thought this was a little too distracting, so he pulled my away from my cluster of adoring fans.

We returned to Dr. Samal’s office for a cool-down and explanation of the rest of the day. I was told that if I felt comfortable with it, I could teach the afternoon lesson to the level XII biology class. The topic was control and coordination in organisms – both plant an animal. I really liked the textbook that the students used. I recognized many of the figures from other biology books I have seen, although it’s a publication of the Indian government. It had the feel of an AP Biology prep book – short on specific content, but comprehensive in coverage. There is ample latitude for individual teacher methods and interest, while addressing the most fundamental topics of biology. College Board – the governing body of AP courses – has vowed to reduce content in AP Biology in favor of emphasizing process, and this book would certainly be a good step in that direction.

Dr. J. Samal

I accepted the challenge of teaching the class. There is a resource room complete with computer and LCD projector. Since I forgot my Mac pigtail that day, I was forced to punt and use the old PC with a flash drive intermediate. I was saddened by how dependent I have become on technology to deliver a lesson, but I convinced myself that with about 30 minutes or prep time that this was the best solution. The class went very well, and there are some bright – and I mean REALLY bright – students in the class. There were two girls in particular that seemed to be able to predict the questions I was going to ask them. Despite the class being primarily ‘lecture-driven’ I did have ample time for questioning and I also gave them some problems to solve while I circulated around the room to check on comprehension. This seemed to be a surprise to them. In talking with Sachi and some of the other teachers, there seems to be a fairly conservative approach to education in the Indian system: the teacher is the authority of the class, and the students learn the content that is presented by the teachers. It’s simple, relatively easy to implement and assess through examination, and cost-effective. Sachi and some of his colleagues feel, as I do, that this model of education should be open to debate and critique. There is no doubt that the teachers I have encountered here are dedicated to their profession. The average pay is relatively low compared to other professions, but comfortable, much like it seems in the US. They have certainly fewer resources and larger classes, yet there is a palpable sense of school pride by both staff and students alike.

Level X girls testing their reflexes

Level XII Biology Elective

My second day found me in the class for two groups – one was the group I first met briefly,  and the second was same group I had met in the afternoon. Their science teacher was out for the day, so under Sachi’s supervision, I plodded ahead. I remembered my pigtail, so I could directly plug into the Epson LCD, identical to the one in my room at BHS. I felt a rush of home! The topics: mendelian genetics in the morning and reflex arcs and an activity in the afternoon. The same schedule held for my third day, with the addition of an interview for the school newspaper from a palpably nervous 9th grader, and a short game of football with the students. After my crossing pass was handballed, I was invited to take the free kick. I nailed it! In fact, it went into the parking lot across the street. Sachi also played on the other side and it was fun interacting with the students on a more personal level. The autograph requests continue, but I think I am settling in and seeming more normal to them. The feedback I have been getting from the students has been humbling and greatly appreciated. After a somewhat difficult year in the classroom at BHS, it was really nice to have the feeling again that I couldn't wait to go back tomorrow.

Level X boys

Level X girls keying plants from the schoolyard

In addition to school, the afternoons are spent touring the environs of Kolkata. Monday, we were going to visit the Victoria Memorial, but an epic traffic jam forced a last minute change of plans, so we went to the botanical gardens and the Hindi Kalighat Temple. The gardens were as beautiful as you would imagine you would find in a place that can get the 95/95 temp humidity daily double! Yesterday we fulfilled our plans to see the Victoria Memorial, now an ironic testament to Indian independence. Today, Sachi and I strolled through the largest market in Kolkata – everything from trinkets to food to antiques to ‘antiques’ were available. I had to finally shoo away three gentlemen rather firmly after four polite ‘no, thank yous’ didn’t suffice.

Botanical Gardens

Kalighat Temple

Victoria Memorial

Cool!

Last night, I met up with another exchange teacher, Ron, who left today. It was so nice to compare notes and gain a few tips from a seasoned pro. We ventured out into the neighborhood surrounding the mission for dinner at a well-regarded restaurant. The food was good, but the experience was even better. Sitting at our same long table was an extremely friendly chap who introduced me to the anticipated custom of adda – a spirited chat with a stranger, who quickly becomes your friend. We talked about a variety of subjects – education, cricket, and Bengali food, but I thought it best to steer clear of politics. You never know what you might say, plus I am not overly familiar with the politics of India.

More on Kolkata life later – I will close this entry with this. Mumbai attacks notwithstanding, in three days I have gone from questioning whether I should have participated in the program to already preparing myself for how hard it is going to be to leave this city, but more importantly the KV school. The students and staff have been so inviting and I know that we have each made an indelible impression on each other. Should the events in Mumbai today jeopardize this experience, there is one more minute reason why such heinous activities should be condemned by the entire human community. I thought these two photos deserved to be posted…there is hope in a child’s vision.

Kolkata Street Scene

Level VII Artist with her work