Musings · Social Media, Technology & Education

Contrasting Realities

This year again I was in Harali, working with Anandshala facilitators, when the editorial work for the Technology in Education issue of the IAFOR Journal of Education was at its peak. This year, similar to last year we had a lot of papers on AI. Some of them got through the peer review process and are published in the latest issue.

As we review various papers on AI, the discourse focuses on subjects such as evaluation challenges as AI becomes ubiquitous etc. as well as unexpected topics such as AI assisted plush toys/robots for children with autism. Here at Harali, I see student circumstances many generations behind this fast moving world. The cognitive dissonance is jarring.

Juggling the two drastically different contexts I inhabit, one with cutting edge technology and other with nomadic community in a disadvantaged district made me think of the socio-political context of educational technology. The editorial introduction this year focused on the ‘critical turn’ in educational technology is inspired by this experience.

Musings

Social Memory of Separation

The Girl’s hostel at the school (in Harali) started hosting Laman Banjara girls during the pandemic. Our Anandshala program at that time catered to the children of Banjara migrant workers. Come Diwali they migrate to harvest sugarcane and are away till February/March. With the AshramShalas still closed, young kids especially girls would have migrated with parents and all the efforts to keep them in school with help of Anandshala project would have been wasted. So the school temporarily accommodated banjara students in the hostel for 3-4 months. Then many of them joined the school and stayed on for the next year.

Visiting days and times for the girl’s hostel are fixed but Banjara parents arrive to see their children at ‘random’ times. Because they missed them intensely. Or because they thought of the kid while eating mutton curry. Or because they are leaving for the harvest and do not know when they will be back. Some reasons seem somewhat logical to the school staff, some outright absurd. Some staff members felt that the parents just don’t understand or do not want to follow rules.

For the last couple of years, the school started a scholarship program for bright girls to join the school in 5th grade and stay in the hostel. Most of the girls who got the scholarship did not join. Their mothers or grandmothers got emotional with the thought of parting. They are from within a 25 km radius of the school. It is not excruciatingly difficult to travel. One of the grandmothers said “She will get married and leave, why send her away now, so soon.”

This is unfathomable for the facilitators and JPH staff who worked hard to prepare these students for the ‘opportunity’. Some of the staff are urban and some are from the villages around. But neither could relate to this angst. It comes from the history of the community as nomad traders. In olden days, when a person joined another Tanda (a caravan) or got married and moved in a different direction, the probability that they will meet again was low, given that both of them would be on the move. This separation angst from the social memory is kept alive through wedding songs describing parting and loss.

In modern times, the girls get married to somebody within the community, many times in the same Tanda or nearby. But the historical memory and separation anxiety plays up in seemingly illogical ways affecting many facets of their life. You can’t wish it away or juxtapose a structure of another system on it to keep it in check.

Unless it is acknowledged, we can’t move forward.

In Harali, this is a constant struggle. Would bussing in be better to provide opportunities for Banjara girls, acknowledging the socio-cultural milieu? How can we make rules that work with the ways of the community?

Musings · Social Media, Technology & Education

Endangered Home Languages

Working with the Laman Banjara children in Anandshala, we have been exploring various facets of the problem आपली मुलं शाळेत फुलत का नाहीत? [why don’t our children prosper in school]. A couple of years back we talked with the parents, children, and the teachers about language transition from home language to school language – their experiences, what they think works and does not work.

As educators, learning scientists, linguistic anthropologits, we think that it is important to support the home language. Use it in verbal exchange in formal and informal learning spaces; create learning material in the home language; encourage translanguaging. While parents want their children to quickly move on to Marathi and English. When asked “don’t you worry you will lose your language?” The answer was – “We talk in our language at home. It will not disappear. But the children need to learn English to get a job in the office and change their plight.”

An article on Kolami speaking community in PARI reminded me of this exchange. Kolami is named as an endangered language by UNESCO. But the speakers have more pressing issues than saving their language:

“There is no time to think about anything else [other than her farm],” she says about the status of Kolami as an endangered language. When Sunita and her community didn’t know fluent Marathi, “everyone would say ‘speak in Marathi! speak in Marathi!’” And now when the language is endangered, “everyone wants us to speak in Kolami,” she chuckles.
“We speak our language. Our children too,” she asserts. “It’s only when we go out that we speak in Marathi. When we come back home, we speak our language.”
“ Aapli bhasha aaplich rahili pahije [Our language should remain ours]. Kolami should be Kolami and Marathi should be Marathi. That is what matters.”

The Kolami Speakers of Yavatmal.

It is the exact same discourse. When there is urgent need of improving dire living situation, saving home language or the identity formation of the child in the first five school years based on home language, and all the theories of learning are not a priority.

Working with the community as a participatory practice rather than an intervention, where do we stand when our beliefs about primacy of home language butt against the basic struggle to stay alive?

Social Media, Technology & Education

Making sense of it all

Physically moving pieces of written text to understand how they fit together for their group authored article. This is from one of the sessions with students at Harali in their Science Journalism project. The articles they wrote can be seen here.

Reminded me of the old days when we had post-it notes or actually cut out pieces of interview transcripts while conducting analysis without QDAS.

Musings

Why do we test?

Excerpt from a lecture about Participatory practice in Anandshala (An out of school educational initiative with Laman Banjara community in Osmanabad district):

For 5-7th graders we used – Quest’s सक्षम बनूया Marathi and Math series specifically created for students in 5-7th grade who are not at their grade level. There are 3 workbooks each for Marathi and Math. The series came with a baseline test that was supposed to place students at the 3 levels. At first glance the tests looked like they might need localisation or at least simplification of language.

For example, the long prompts in the Math test were difficult to read. र ट फ करून वाचताना  प्रश्न काय होता ते मुलांना विसरायला होईल अस वाटलं. भाषा थोडि सोपी करायच काम मी केल आणि मग tests घेऊन तीन  तांड्यामद्धे गेलो. ह्या तांडयामध्ये मागच्या वर्षी पासून काम चालू होतं, त्यामुळे facilitators ना मुलांचा अंदाज होता. 2 facilitator ना test ठीक आहेत अस वाटल. गणिती भाषा मुलांना यायलाच पाहिजे त्यामुळे भाषा बदलू नये अस त्यांच म्हणण पडल.  दोघेही डी एड झालेले त्यामुळे शिक्षक, शिकवणं, टेस्ट याकडे बघण्याचा दृष्टीकोण थोडा फिक्स झालेला. तिसरा तांडा थोडासा इतरांपेक्षा मागे पडलेला आणि नुकताच कॉलेज ला जाणारा facilitator. त्याच्या मुलांना भाषा जड जाईल अस त्याला वाटल.

मग आपण नक्की काय टेस्ट करतो आहे यावर चर्चा झाली. गणित करता येतं का मराठी वाचता येत याची परीक्षा होणार आहे असा उलट सुलट विचार झाला. सर्व प्रश्न गोरमाटी मध्ये translate करायचा प्रयत्न चालू झाला. पुनः थांबून खरंच हे पूर्ण गोरमटी पाहिजे का? मुलांना देवनागरी मध्ये लिहिलेल गोरमटीत वाचता येईल का असा ऊहापोह झाला. मग एक 8 वीतला  मुलगा तिथून जात होता त्याला बोलावल आणि विचारल – तुझ्या 5-7 वी तल्या मित्रांना हा पेपर दिला तर यातल कुठे अडेल? 

Instead of taking standardised test as they were we started asking the question ‘what do we want to know?’, when we got stuck at localizing the tests we looked for ‘local experts’, rethinking ‘who knows what we want to know’ instead of going to the obvious options of trained teachers from the community. We found diverse voices.

When conducting the baseline evaluation, instead of a timed test we decided to give the students as much time as they needed. The test was portrayed as a mirror for themselves. A tool that will tell them where they need help and ask for it from the facilitators. Instead of worrying about standardized scores we gave importance to maintaining student’s confidence while getting the information we want to place them at the appropriate level.

In the math test the facilitators explained the questions in Gormati if somebody asked for it. If a student couldn’t read fast enough to understand the question, we read it out to them without any further explanation. Timed tests make sure that the student is fluent, so to understand the level of fluency we marked the time the test was returned. The score and the time were used together to understand the student’s skillset.

The testscores were aggregated for each student as well as for a Tanda for each question or set of questions. This gave us a general idea of where the group stood in terms of skills. For example, 50% of students in X tanda cannot do multiplications. 80% can do addition, subtraction but only 70% can do हच्याची वजाबाकी. So the facilitators got a more actionable input about their students about specific areas, rather than a score.

We had decided to start from the 1st book in the series. The scores were used to divide students into 3 groups green, pink, and blue according to their ability. The idea was that blue group would be able to go through the workbook on their own. दृढिकरण was the purpose. The pink was the middle section, the instruction, speed was planned keeping them in mind. The hirva needed more attention. The facilitator could do that when the gulabi group was solving their workbook as well as ask nila group students to help-out if they were stuck. Given the environment of the classroom, students felt at ease to help their peers. Rather it was encouraged, in contrast to the individual focused tests and activities in school.

Initially I provided the list of students for each group, and explained how I arrived at it. The facilitators later adjusted by moving some students between the groups when they realized they were getting stuck or were faster than expected. They also felt confident enough to assign a new student to a group, observe and move them to the appropriate group. The weekly facilitator meeting was a place to discuss such tweaks.

The collective reflection was an important aspect of the success of this phase. In addition to observing their students and their own practice, the deliberations of these observations helped some reflect on their beliefs and assumptions. For example, an interesting conversation among two facilitators verbalised their cognitive dissonance about हुशार कोण. Surprised at seeing names of some of their students in the Green group, the group of students that were lagging the most: 
They write so well. It is clean and beautiful.”, said Sunita
I felt the same way when I got my list, but if you see their test papers, you can see they couldn’t do it.” Pranita responded.
Let’s see, said Sunita, When they start with the workbook I can move them if needed” 
There was an epiphany that, beautiful handwriting does not mean the student comprehends what they are reading or writing. Writing can be just like copying a drawing.

Not everybody started with questioning the lists. Initially, it was considered as given. Highlighting my position of power as an educationist, the primacy of tests and numbers over the facilitators’ knowledge of their students. However, in 2-3 weeks, most were able to judge ability of newly arriving students without a baseline test and moved students between groups as they progressed at a slower or faster pace than others. By the midterm in October and the post-test at the end of the year, facilitators had a better understanding of what their students can and cannot do, where they trip when solving math problems or completing language tasks in the workbook. The trust in the tests was still intact but there was more openness to question the things that did not work.

Musings

आमची भाषा Our Language

When listening to Prof. Wei’s speech yesterday, his use of the phrase ‘named languages’ really resonated with me. It reminded me of multiple instances and observations over the couple of years interacting with ‘Gormati’ speaking people. Prof. Wei was talking about Translanguaging for inclusion and social justice.

The second year of working with the Laman Banjara people, some of the students from Anandshala came to stay at Harali temporarily while their parents were away for sugarcane harvest season. Hematai was working on creating an English-Gormati bilingual picture book with them. She had worked with students at Harali before, to create an English storybook with visuals. The students themselves came up with the story and had drawn visuals themselves. Similar to the previous project, we started with some storytelling sessions.

In the first session, students were asked to narrate Gormati stories that could inspire a narrative for the book. A girl next to me asked another: “कांइ बोले छ?” (What are they talking about?)
“म्हन्जे हापल्या भाषेत बोलाच” (That means we speak in our language”).
Did that mean not everybody refers to the language as Gormati? So I asked the students afterwards – what do you call the language you speak in?
There was a confused pause. आमची भाषा? (Our language?)
There had not been a need to name the language they spoke. There was no situation where they had to talk about their language as a thing. They interacted amongst themselves a certain way and in school they had to learn Marathi, a named language and a subject of study. We had created the need to name by asking questions about their non-Marathi practice.

“Named languages are abstractions from social activity of languaging. It is the linguists who socially constructed languages and gave them names.”

– Prof Lee Wei, February 2023

When interviewing parents last summer about language practices, we saw the same thing. After the experience with the students I had started asking questions with the phrase ‘घरची भाषा’ (home language). It worked well as we were talking about how their children transitioned from home language to language of instruction in school. If I didn’t use the word Gormati then most referred to it as आमची भाषा (our language).

In other instances, when asked to speak in Gormati, a couple of facilitators and students who had lived outside the Tanda for an extended period, were anxious. They claimed they could not speak in Gormati. However, observing their natural languaging practice I realised that they go in and out of Gormati and versions of Marathi (peppered with everday English words) when at home or speaking with their peers. Naming their languaging practice probably pushed them to acknowledge their practice as different from ‘standard’ Gormati, whatever that meant for them.

Naming the language in this way created these abstract buckets of Gormati and Marathi as if these were distinct parallel monolingual practices. The biggest struggle moving forward for us at Anandshala is going to be acknoweldging the translanguaging practices, working on the perceptions all of us have about language practice and related power equations, and figuring out what it means for classroom/languaging practice in Anandshala and Anandghar space.

Social Media, Technology & Education

Peers and Play: खेळातून अभ्यास आणि सवंगड्यां बरोबर अभ्यास

Excerpt from आनंदशाळा: neighbourhood schools

खेळ आणि मित्र मैत्रिणीं बरोबर शिकायचं म्हणजे नक्की काय याचं एक छान उदाहरण सेवालाल नगरच्या आनंदशाळेत गेलेले असताना दिसलं. एका तासाला विकासदादानी सर्व मुलांना दोन गटात विभागलं. एका गटानी गणित घालायच आणि ते दुसऱ्या गटानी वहीत न लिहिता मनात सोडवून उत्तर द्यायचं. पहिल्या गटानी उत्तर बरोबर आहे का हे सांगायचं असे खेळाचे नियम ठरले. जोरदार स्पर्धा सुरू झाली. वेगानी आकडे येऊ लागले. काही मुलांना विचार करायला वेळच मिळेना मग विकासदादा मध्ये  पडले आणि उत्तर न देणाऱ्या मुलांना वेळ आणि संधि मिळेल असं पाहू लागले.

एका मुलीनी मग उत्साहानी गणित घातलं. दादानी मागे बसलेल्या एका मुलाला उत्तर सांगायला सांगितलं. उत्तर बरोबर आहे का हे मुलीला सांगता येईना. गणित घालायच्या उत्साहात ती ते सोडवायचं विसरली होती. इतर मुली तिच्या मदतीला आल्या आणि उत्तर बरोबर आहे असं सांगितलं. आणखीन एका राऊंड मध्ये पहिल्या गटातल्या एका मुलानी सांगितलेलं उत्तर दूसऱ्या गटानी चूक आहे म्हटलं. मुलानी पुनः सोडवून पाहिल आणि तेच उत्तर दिलं. पुन्हा गट अडून बसला उत्तर चुकलं म्हणून. दादा शांतपणे उत्तर न सांगता, मुलं काय करतात ते पहात होते. शेवटी वहीत करून पहा अस दुसऱ्या गटानी सुचवलं. वहीत मांडल्यावर त्याला त्याची चूक लक्षात आली. खेळ पुढे सरकला.

खेळा मुळे संचारलेल्या उत्साहामुळे मागे बसणारी आणि मागे राहणारी मुले सुद्धा हिरीरीने भाग घेऊ लागली. गणित आपणही घालू शकतो, चूक-बरोबर आपणही ठरवू शकतो ह्या नव्या अनुभवामुळे सर्वच मुलांचा आनंद, उत्साह, आणि प्रामुख्याने आत्मविश्वास झपाट्याने वाढला.

बाहेरच्या एखाद्याला हा गोंधळ, गडबड, आणि मुलांचा आवाज ऐकून, मुलांवर शिक्षकांचं नियंत्रण नाही अस वाटणं  साहजिकच आहे. पण ह्या खेळाचं एक विशिष्ट उद्दिष्ट आहे – सराव आणि प्रवाहीपणा (fluency) – जेणेकरून पुढची गणिती प्रक्रिया शिकण्यासाठी पाया पक्का व्हावा. इतरांना गोंधळ वाटला तरीही दादांचं मुलांवर बारीक लक्ष होतं. गरज लागेल तेंव्हा मध्ये पडून आणि इतर वेळी मुलांना पूर्ण स्वातंत्र्य देत ते त्यांनी साध्य केलं. अशा खेळातून शिकण्यातून केवळ विषयाचं प्रभूत्वच नाही तर इतर अध्ययन कौशल्यही मुलांपर्यंत पोहचवता येतात. स्वतःच्या कामाचा विचार करणे, चिंतन (reflection), आपली एखादी गोष्ट चुकली हे समजणे, ते मान्य करणे; आपल्याला एखादी गोष्ट येत नाही हे समजणे आणि ती शिकण्याची इच्छा असणे ही metacognitive skills तयार होण्याची महत्वाची पायरी आहे.

आपल्या पारंपारिक/पठडीबाज शाळांमध्ये शिक्षक ज्ञानाचे खजिनदार असतात. चूक का बरोबर हे ठरवण्याचा अधिकार ही त्यांच्याकडेच असतो. अशा परिस्थितीत मुलांना स्वतंत्रपणे विचार करण्याची आणि स्वअभ्यासाची कौशल्ये आत्मसात करण्याची संधीच मिळत नाही. शिकायला आनंद वाटेल अशी पद्धत आणि facilitator असलेले ताई/दादा यामुळे शिक्षणाची जबाबदारी मुलांना पुन्हा आपल्या हातात घेणं शक्य झालं.

करोना काळात शाळा बंद होत्या तेंव्हा, शिकवण्याच्या विविध पद्धती, असलेल्या परिस्थितीतून शिक्षकांनी काढलेले मार्ग याचा बराच ऊहापोह झाला परंतु तो ऑनलाइन शिक्षणापुरता मर्यादित होता. ऑनलाइन शिवाय इतर पद्धतीं मध्ये अशा छोट्या छोट्या neighbourhood schools चा विचारही करायला हरकत नाही. त्या यशस्वी होण्यासाठी काय करावं लागेल याचं हे एक उदाहरण. 

Musings · Social Media, Technology & Education

My language, your language, our language

The activity to create language maps with the girls staying at Harali was an interesting experience. It is Jessica’s method to understand how people experience, perceive language use in their surroundings. Jessica is a linguistic anthropologist visiting Harali to work with us and see if we can get some insight to move the work forward with the Laman Banjara community.

The girls were bored in the afternoon. It was their day off. I had been busy visiting Tandas with Jessica and interviewing parents and teachers about language use in schooling so hadn’t found time to interact with them. With supplies spread out in their hostel wing everybody started drawing the space, people, and languages. I was a bit unsure if the task was too abstract for them but it was surprising to see the variety of ways they drew the maps.

Some potrayed places or distance, mostly from Harali, their current location. Some portrayed it as information about places neatly divided according to some theme. Others focused closer to home. Instead of different villages and Tandas they zoomed in to showcase details of spaces in and around their Tanda – temple, lavatory, school etc.

You can see a couple of their maps here.

Related reading:
Chandras J., Tirthali D., and Dabak P. (2023). Mapping Multilingual Sociality in Rural India: Children and Youth’s Perceptions of Self and Language in Space. Communication in the Worlds of Children and Youth: Imagination, Language, Performance, and Creative Expression

Musings

Storytelling, yours and mine

The second year of working with the Laman Banjara people, some of the students from Anandshala came to stay at Harali temporarily while their parents were away during the sugarcane harvest season. Hematai was working on creating an English-Gormati bilingual picture book with them. She had worked with students at Harali School before to create an English storybook with visuals. The students themselves came up with the story and had hand-drawn visuals. Similar to the previous project, we started with storytelling sessions. Students were asked to narrate Gormati stories that could inspire a narrative for the book.

We sat in a big circle. There was a lot of excitement and a buzz of students talking amongst themselves to figure out which story was worth sharing. A few students came forward to stand in the middle and tell a story. All of them chose to tell the story in Marathi. Most of the stories could be readily identified as the ones read or narrated in Anandshala. Hematai wanted to get to the traditional stories, that they heard from their grandparents. Stories that were specific to their people.

The next instruction was to write stories with an emphasis again on Gormati stories. The next session started with some more stories in Marathi, again mostly from the Anandshala repertoire. Hematai asked if anybody had a Gormati story. A cheeky student got up and started reading from his notebook. I had seen his writing before, so seemed like he was reading his story written in Marathi and translating in Gormati on the spot. The point of getting to the ‘traditional stories’ was lost.

Next session was about seeing different storybooks for inspiration and telling/writing new stories they had never heard of. Something that they created themselves. One student came forward with a story of a mother elephant and a baby elephant. The story was a reflection of his home life combined with the story books he looked at for inspiration – animals in the forest. The story started with the mother elephant going to work leaving the baby elephant alone, the dangers involved, the hunger, the loneliness, animals tht helped and animals who wanted to ause harm. It took myriad paths settling down at some point on how with all the money that the mother earned, they were able to build a 3 storey house full of all the amenities. In short the reality of his life, the inner struggle, and his aspirations described through the elephant family.

Being part of these storytelling sessions was instructive. There was a specific expectation in the objective of getting to the Gormati stories. The expectation was that it will extract the ‘traditional’ stories. The assumptions about traditional stories probably coming from the discourse of a grandma telling stories specific to the community; or the Panchatantra as the proxy for the oral tradition of fables, stories told in guise of interactions of animals, to teach moral lessons; or the mythological stories of Ramayan, Mahabharat, or Puranas.

Is that an assumption based in specific space (urban-rural, home-school) and people? Did these children grew up listening to bedtime stories from their parents or grandparents? Or did they read a story in this particular format only in school?
In regular interactions or even in purposeful interactions like interviews, I have heard both children and adults express their opinions, experiences and such in a narrative form rather than a statements. What does that say about storytelling in this community?
What about the songs for various occasions? They are mostly stories of past and future anxieties or aspirations. For example, a women’s (mother’s??) song after a wedding describes in detail how the mother-son relationship was before and how it will change after the wife is part of the picture.
What other interactions are we missing, that we need to see? What questions can we ask, what spaces can we inhabit to see these practices?

If we are trying to acknowledge / bring in the stories of the student’s specific communities in an effort for inclusion, or to make space, can we bring in these practices and help students express their stories in the formats ingrained in their regular practice, in addition to introducing the formats and ethos of the Panchatantra stories?

Musings

Back to school

This was an interesting eye-opener about how the discourse of learning-loss with respect to students feeds into the deficit mindset.

The middle school boys from Bhosga last year who took harvest contracts and earned money during the pandemic, we see you. We see that you are doing your best to learn from life and thrive in the present circumstances.
We see you now coming in for the Anandshala everyday late at night after a days work. Especially the girls who have the added responsibility of the household chores. Prithvi, we see you, working the whole day and then teaching the kids in the evening with so much enthusiasm. Managing in a room without a door, taking the light bulb with you every night so that vandalism would not affect the learning on the next day. We acknowledge you attending the facilitator’s meeting on the phone while you were harvesting soyabean.

Although the video referes to the American educational system, the discourse is no different in India. The rhetoric of skill-loss or learning-loss is all pervasive with the AP report and a variety of education experts commenting on it primarily as they build an argument for schools to open again.

I am not against schools opening. It is necessary in most places. However, focusing on the skill loss puts us (teachers, policy makers, administrators, education experts) on the defensive. Can we acknowledge that the children lived through a pandemic just like we did. They learned to live in a pandemic, they survived. Can we plan teaching and learning acknowledging the fact that each child brings something to the table? It is not just the teachers or the people who design the curriculum that have things worth giving.

Schools are not the only places learning happens. Children coming back to school are not leaky buckets left half empty that teachers now have to fill upto capacity with herculean efforts. Pandemic did not freeze them in place. Just like all of us adults, they lived through it. Lets try to connect back with that experience in mind.