Saturday, September 29, 2012
Darjeeling Zoo
Wow... Red pandas, snow leopards, tigers, monkeys, bears and cheetahs... We've had a lovely day! No more needs to be said as the pics say it all!
Teachers' training - session 1
So imagine this class: 17 students whose phones ring constantly, worse still they leave your lesson to answer them. Spitting on the floor is a perfectly normal activity and talking over people is commonplace. This class was actually the teachers of KCS, and our mission was to inspire them to think, plan and deliver effective lessons. Trust me, if you know India, you'll know this to be a massive task!
I was actually quite nervous about the job in hand. Having only just completed a year of training myself I'm far from rolling in experience. However, with more of an idea than our willing audience, and with some serious motivation Giles and I gave it a good go... And good it was! We delivered the session as if it was a lesson, introducing activities to stimulate and make them think. They all went away as experts in cell biology (my chosen subject), but significantly they left smiling, and with a range of ideas to apply to their own subjects.
We've all been on training sessions before and I'm sure you'll agree that it's easy to walk away feeling uplifted and motivated, only to lose the enthusiasm after a night's sleep. So imagine our delight at several of the teachers asking for help and mirroring our techniques just one day later... Brilliant!
With teacher training looking set to become a weekly event... Perhaps we are winning after all!
Below: pics of the teachers in action!
I was actually quite nervous about the job in hand. Having only just completed a year of training myself I'm far from rolling in experience. However, with more of an idea than our willing audience, and with some serious motivation Giles and I gave it a good go... And good it was! We delivered the session as if it was a lesson, introducing activities to stimulate and make them think. They all went away as experts in cell biology (my chosen subject), but significantly they left smiling, and with a range of ideas to apply to their own subjects.
We've all been on training sessions before and I'm sure you'll agree that it's easy to walk away feeling uplifted and motivated, only to lose the enthusiasm after a night's sleep. So imagine our delight at several of the teachers asking for help and mirroring our techniques just one day later... Brilliant!
With teacher training looking set to become a weekly event... Perhaps we are winning after all!
Below: pics of the teachers in action!
27 Sept - Humbled
I was humbled twice today, finding myself (ourselves) rapt and overwhelmed by unconditional generosity.
Walking down from Pedong, exploring the steep terraced slopes with their lush green, you are treated to the most serene view: an unmanicured Alpine landscape, a tidy country idyll with houses dotted amongst woodland and green fields. The distance makes it look much prettier than it is up close, but it is beautiful nonetheless.
"Hello, where are you going?" We turn to look up slope, where a pretty Sikkimese woman is waving, a huge grin on her face. "Where are you going?" "Just for a walk. Hello." We wave back, unsurprised by the friendliness.
"You should come and stop here," or words to that effect. You know out here that that kind of gesture is not empty.
"Thankyou." We keep walking. Needless to say, as we panted back uphill, there was no chance of second refusal; and despite her territorial hound, we were soon skipping down the steep steps towards Lhamu's house ("We should go really, just ten minutes, they obviously want us to.")
Friendly handshakes all round, ridicule of the dog, and seemingly, with minimal effort on our part other than smiles, we have 3 or 4 new friends in the form of Lhamu and her family.
And what a wonderland we find ourselves in. Despite a feeling of guilt for refusing an offer of tea based upon the encroaching dusk outside, no fuss, and we are soon being ushered through a maze of corridors and rooms. What we emerge into is nothing short of astounding: a tasteful and tranquil Bhuddist shrine built at the same time as the house 50 years ago.
From there to the huge but empty kitchen. Can't say I fancied trying the homemade butter much, but knowing that Indians show affection and love through giving food, we did of course accept a few slices of the biggest cucumber you have ever seen. Very tasty it was, but this is no trivial statement: this was the first raw clean salad we've had since we got here - crunchy, fibrous, you could almost feel the goodness seeping through! Obligatory photos taken and thanks for our doing so and off we trotted to make it home in time for dinner.
That's once humbled. Twice in one day came only a little later. We are blessed with being looked after not only by house Mum, Suchita, but also pretty, taciturn, shy, and most importantly always smiley Chunu, her maid. There's nothing she won't do to help, and all done with a wide genuine smile. She's lovely, and only 13. Both of her parents are sadly dead: tragic. But she's fortunate. Suchita treats her as another daughter, and is clearly very fond of her. Watching them both giggling together whilst watching India's best (read: worst) soap opera in the evenings is charming. But Suchita, already a saint in our eyes, extends her generosity further still. Chunu's brothers and sister live a much less lavish life in the simple farm of their aunts and uncles. It's almost a subsistence existence, and so Suchita sends small donations each month and any spare discarded clothes that are no longer needed around the house. Inspirational, aspirational, and humbling beyond words. We could learn a lot more from these people.
I'll finish with one final example of the open generosity on show out here.
Imagine our surprise when a little lad - he can't have been more than 5 - popped his head through our door curtain. No idea who he was, but that didn't stop his brazen attempt to grab one of our balls (which we use in lessons) on spying it. I'm sure it was only to borrow, but Sarah, keen to indtil manners and politeness, soon had him reciting the words 'borrow' and 'please' before he took it away, brought it back, took it away, and returned it again.
"Who is that little chap, Aryan?" we asked Suchita's son.
"I don't know Miss."
So here was this total stranger, in someone else's house, completely at ease in the knowledge that he would be safe and welcome. Communities back home would think it mad and perhaps irresponsible parenting, but perhaps if the communities where a bit more like here then it wouldn't seem so strange.
Photos:
Looking across Pedong playing field towards the lovely green hills with a cup of Chai; Lhamu and her family (and us!); Lhamu and her son in their prayer room; Sarah, Suchita and Chunu
Walking down from Pedong, exploring the steep terraced slopes with their lush green, you are treated to the most serene view: an unmanicured Alpine landscape, a tidy country idyll with houses dotted amongst woodland and green fields. The distance makes it look much prettier than it is up close, but it is beautiful nonetheless.
"Hello, where are you going?" We turn to look up slope, where a pretty Sikkimese woman is waving, a huge grin on her face. "Where are you going?" "Just for a walk. Hello." We wave back, unsurprised by the friendliness.
"You should come and stop here," or words to that effect. You know out here that that kind of gesture is not empty.
"Thankyou." We keep walking. Needless to say, as we panted back uphill, there was no chance of second refusal; and despite her territorial hound, we were soon skipping down the steep steps towards Lhamu's house ("We should go really, just ten minutes, they obviously want us to.")
Friendly handshakes all round, ridicule of the dog, and seemingly, with minimal effort on our part other than smiles, we have 3 or 4 new friends in the form of Lhamu and her family.
And what a wonderland we find ourselves in. Despite a feeling of guilt for refusing an offer of tea based upon the encroaching dusk outside, no fuss, and we are soon being ushered through a maze of corridors and rooms. What we emerge into is nothing short of astounding: a tasteful and tranquil Bhuddist shrine built at the same time as the house 50 years ago.
From there to the huge but empty kitchen. Can't say I fancied trying the homemade butter much, but knowing that Indians show affection and love through giving food, we did of course accept a few slices of the biggest cucumber you have ever seen. Very tasty it was, but this is no trivial statement: this was the first raw clean salad we've had since we got here - crunchy, fibrous, you could almost feel the goodness seeping through! Obligatory photos taken and thanks for our doing so and off we trotted to make it home in time for dinner.
That's once humbled. Twice in one day came only a little later. We are blessed with being looked after not only by house Mum, Suchita, but also pretty, taciturn, shy, and most importantly always smiley Chunu, her maid. There's nothing she won't do to help, and all done with a wide genuine smile. She's lovely, and only 13. Both of her parents are sadly dead: tragic. But she's fortunate. Suchita treats her as another daughter, and is clearly very fond of her. Watching them both giggling together whilst watching India's best (read: worst) soap opera in the evenings is charming. But Suchita, already a saint in our eyes, extends her generosity further still. Chunu's brothers and sister live a much less lavish life in the simple farm of their aunts and uncles. It's almost a subsistence existence, and so Suchita sends small donations each month and any spare discarded clothes that are no longer needed around the house. Inspirational, aspirational, and humbling beyond words. We could learn a lot more from these people.
I'll finish with one final example of the open generosity on show out here.
Imagine our surprise when a little lad - he can't have been more than 5 - popped his head through our door curtain. No idea who he was, but that didn't stop his brazen attempt to grab one of our balls (which we use in lessons) on spying it. I'm sure it was only to borrow, but Sarah, keen to indtil manners and politeness, soon had him reciting the words 'borrow' and 'please' before he took it away, brought it back, took it away, and returned it again.
"Who is that little chap, Aryan?" we asked Suchita's son.
"I don't know Miss."
So here was this total stranger, in someone else's house, completely at ease in the knowledge that he would be safe and welcome. Communities back home would think it mad and perhaps irresponsible parenting, but perhaps if the communities where a bit more like here then it wouldn't seem so strange.
Photos:
Looking across Pedong playing field towards the lovely green hills with a cup of Chai; Lhamu and her family (and us!); Lhamu and her son in their prayer room; Sarah, Suchita and Chunu
Friday, September 28, 2012
26 Sept - Dawn Chorus
It's 11 o'clock in the morning. That's 6 hours or so after Pedong - our house in particular - unleashes its very own version of a raging dawn chorus. Good thing that we didn't fancy a lie in. Kids laughing, running around, reciting homework; the mad lady that lives with us squawking; the pressure cooker announcing yet more rice; dogs hacking up whatever it is they eat in great coughs; and the tormented wail of the laying hen. Annoying, but it begs the question of exactly what they feed the children which they aren't feeding us. We're knackered, and yet Aryan and his chums stay up till gone 9, and are still hareing around at 5am. I want some of whatever they're having!
25 Sept - My first tiddly Indian
I met my first drunk Indian today. Verbose, repetitive, honest, open and humble in varying shades of hilarious. "I feel inferior when I see you teach." Sarah's face said it all: one of modesty and tainted with a touch of sadness. But, and this is, in the tiny microcosm which is Kids' Castle School, Dhobi Dhara, in Lower Pedong, Darjeeling district, a big but, we are making progress.
My hot air balloon model has failed two days in a row: ridiculed by eleven year olds I was as black smoke billowed from the top of the bag, and the plastic melted to itself. Anmol, one of the teachers, seized the opportunity quick as a flash: "I will bring one tomorrow. You need lighter materials." He is right of course, and with his enthusiastic partner in crime, Parsuman, I am sure that they will conduct their first demonstration of their teaching careers tomorrow... (I can't forget his amusement at informing us "Anmol is a bachelor!" while walking with us at the weekend. Transpires though that he might be wrong... Watch this space for some gossip)
... Sarah and I have amazing dialogue. I savour and look forward to our afternoon tea on the terrace above the school with my best friend and partner in this little escapade. Observations are discussed, ideas developed, plans made. The blog/website idea to create a lasting resource for the teachers of KCS and further afield has momentum, and support from the charity we are working with, and our evolving role beyond the politics endemic to it all is exciting. So stimulating is it all that I suspect that our fatigue is in no small part a consequence of this rather than our increasingly demanding jogs up and down the surrounding hills.
Sarah and I came here to teach English. I had always hoped that it might be a little more than that. I think we knew just as soon as we started chatting to Santa, our coordinator and biggest advocate, that this would be the case. This project really has no limit: set up lasting lesson resources, train the teachers at KCS, perhaps even extend this to a teacher training roadshow throughout West Bengal and beyond. It is so exciting.
My hot air balloon model has failed two days in a row: ridiculed by eleven year olds I was as black smoke billowed from the top of the bag, and the plastic melted to itself. Anmol, one of the teachers, seized the opportunity quick as a flash: "I will bring one tomorrow. You need lighter materials." He is right of course, and with his enthusiastic partner in crime, Parsuman, I am sure that they will conduct their first demonstration of their teaching careers tomorrow... (I can't forget his amusement at informing us "Anmol is a bachelor!" while walking with us at the weekend. Transpires though that he might be wrong... Watch this space for some gossip)
... Sarah and I have amazing dialogue. I savour and look forward to our afternoon tea on the terrace above the school with my best friend and partner in this little escapade. Observations are discussed, ideas developed, plans made. The blog/website idea to create a lasting resource for the teachers of KCS and further afield has momentum, and support from the charity we are working with, and our evolving role beyond the politics endemic to it all is exciting. So stimulating is it all that I suspect that our fatigue is in no small part a consequence of this rather than our increasingly demanding jogs up and down the surrounding hills.
Sarah and I came here to teach English. I had always hoped that it might be a little more than that. I think we knew just as soon as we started chatting to Santa, our coordinator and biggest advocate, that this would be the case. This project really has no limit: set up lasting lesson resources, train the teachers at KCS, perhaps even extend this to a teacher training roadshow throughout West Bengal and beyond. It is so exciting.
23 Sept - Vehicles
An extract from my diary:
I learnt several lessons today. The first of which is to pick your taxi carefully. That they will put at least 15 passengers in an ancient 4x4 with a couple on the roof is a given. If you can, find one where the outer tyre tread isn't peeling from the canvas, and where there aren't so many hangers on on the back that the front wheels no longer offer any use as guidance for the vehicle's trajectory. Your chances of survival have just exponentially increased, regardless of the fact that others might have faux religious icons bejewelling the dashboard and paint scrubbed almost to the bare metal.
As promised by Gautam (the head teacher), walk to Sillary we did this afternoon. Expecting to proceed on foot from the outset, we were initially disappointed to find that the first part of the journey would be by vehicle. But actually, having proffed some roofrack perches (the novelty only just outweighed the discomfort), watching the boys up there with us and their obvious innocent enjoyment of the situation was the highlight of the day.
I learnt several lessons today. The first of which is to pick your taxi carefully. That they will put at least 15 passengers in an ancient 4x4 with a couple on the roof is a given. If you can, find one where the outer tyre tread isn't peeling from the canvas, and where there aren't so many hangers on on the back that the front wheels no longer offer any use as guidance for the vehicle's trajectory. Your chances of survival have just exponentially increased, regardless of the fact that others might have faux religious icons bejewelling the dashboard and paint scrubbed almost to the bare metal.
As promised by Gautam (the head teacher), walk to Sillary we did this afternoon. Expecting to proceed on foot from the outset, we were initially disappointed to find that the first part of the journey would be by vehicle. But actually, having proffed some roofrack perches (the novelty only just outweighed the discomfort), watching the boys up there with us and their obvious innocent enjoyment of the situation was the highlight of the day.
23 Sept - Open Questions
I'm still kicking myself at my use of closed questions during my final job interview; in hindsight i see the sheer arrogance of believing that I had actually found a solution without properly analysing the problem: how embarrassing. Ever since I've cussed and tried very hard to conquer the open question. To not prompt any particular response is a skill I have until now been progressing with.
Now though, now I am faced with a new challenge - Indians. Open questions are met with blank looks, the inevitable head wiggle and more likely than not a nervous "Sure, sure" or "Yes Sir". Infuriating. And even more so as it forces you to close the questions to illicit any sort of correct response: "it's x, y or z isn't it?". From the respondent: a look of relief - he knows the answer if you tell him. Doesn't solve the problem if you want him to say no though...
Now though, now I am faced with a new challenge - Indians. Open questions are met with blank looks, the inevitable head wiggle and more likely than not a nervous "Sure, sure" or "Yes Sir". Infuriating. And even more so as it forces you to close the questions to illicit any sort of correct response: "it's x, y or z isn't it?". From the respondent: a look of relief - he knows the answer if you tell him. Doesn't solve the problem if you want him to say no though...
Slowly, slowly catchy monkey...
With 2 weeks of teaching now under our belts it's with some satisfactory grins that we're able to reflect. The first is due solely to the meal we've just motored through in a lovely Darjeeling restaurant... Delicious! Not a grain of rice or a mushy dhal in sight, instead some serious protein and much needed veg. Our next mission is to find a chocolate brownie...
But of course the real story is the ongoing stream of classroom victories. The children are simply loving our efforts, and this week we've been making skeletons from matchsticks, melting (unintentionally) homemade hot air balloons in the playground, modelling cells from brillo pads and pasta, and making dominoes to test the smaller children's mental arithmetic... The list is endless.
The biggest victory of all has been
the buy-in that we now seem to have from the teachers. Within just 2 weeks the school's attitude has shifted from one of wariness and skepticism to full on support for our ideas, so much so that yesterday we ran our first ever teachers' training session! It couldn't have gone any better. 17 teachers ranging from head to the lady who makes tea and rings the bell were engaged for a full 2 hour session. We covered lesson planning and shared some simple techniques, and when asked if they'd had enough, 17 heads simultaneously shook. So we continued to ply our eager audience with ideas.
The response this morning was equally
pleasing as teachers voluntarily observed our lessons and asked for help. It's a battle we didn't begin to think we could win, and already we have some teachers converted!
It's a long game but progress
Is being made and we can't wait to see what the next few weeks bring!
But for now 2 days' downtime in Darjeeling, and tomorrow we're off to the zoo in search of red pandas and snow leopards!
But of course the real story is the ongoing stream of classroom victories. The children are simply loving our efforts, and this week we've been making skeletons from matchsticks, melting (unintentionally) homemade hot air balloons in the playground, modelling cells from brillo pads and pasta, and making dominoes to test the smaller children's mental arithmetic... The list is endless.
The biggest victory of all has been
the buy-in that we now seem to have from the teachers. Within just 2 weeks the school's attitude has shifted from one of wariness and skepticism to full on support for our ideas, so much so that yesterday we ran our first ever teachers' training session! It couldn't have gone any better. 17 teachers ranging from head to the lady who makes tea and rings the bell were engaged for a full 2 hour session. We covered lesson planning and shared some simple techniques, and when asked if they'd had enough, 17 heads simultaneously shook. So we continued to ply our eager audience with ideas.
The response this morning was equally
pleasing as teachers voluntarily observed our lessons and asked for help. It's a battle we didn't begin to think we could win, and already we have some teachers converted!
It's a long game but progress
Is being made and we can't wait to see what the next few weeks bring!
But for now 2 days' downtime in Darjeeling, and tomorrow we're off to the zoo in search of red pandas and snow leopards!
23rd Sept - Learning Observation in the Playground
It's no surprise that Indians push driving to the limit, squeezing through paper thin gaps despite the violent consequences of getting it wrong, or that they conduct seemingly suicidal acrobatics to get a job done; all of which of course while us Limeys watch in horror.
Imagine that your playground had been one giant obstacle course from the age of three. A never ending onslaught of hazards and challenges: unfinished building work, the rusting concrete reinforcement strands bent hideously across your path; nails poking up through planks left lying around; the inevitable dogshit; goats; the list could go on. This must be the premiere training environment in the world to teach you to look out for yourself... And I have no doubt that it provides Indians with their innate intricate awareness of their surroundings.
Imagine that your playground had been one giant obstacle course from the age of three. A never ending onslaught of hazards and challenges: unfinished building work, the rusting concrete reinforcement strands bent hideously across your path; nails poking up through planks left lying around; the inevitable dogshit; goats; the list could go on. This must be the premiere training environment in the world to teach you to look out for yourself... And I have no doubt that it provides Indians with their innate intricate awareness of their surroundings.
Congratulations Grunders and Bonky!
Dearest Helen and Mark,
Sending you all the love in the world on your wedding day. Oh how I wish we could be celebrating with you, but these little monkeys have got us for the next few months! Nevertheless when I told them that it was your wedding they insisted on being in the photo!
Have a truly amazing day, savour every second, and I look forward to a real-time rendition of events in December!
All our love, thinking of you, Smazzie and Giles xxxxx
Sending you all the love in the world on your wedding day. Oh how I wish we could be celebrating with you, but these little monkeys have got us for the next few months! Nevertheless when I told them that it was your wedding they insisted on being in the photo!
Have a truly amazing day, savour every second, and I look forward to a real-time rendition of events in December!
All our love, thinking of you, Smazzie and Giles xxxxx
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Malnourished?
One of my biggest fears about coming out here was that of food and whether there'd be enough. We love eating! At home mealtimes are a chance to try new recipes, and breakfast, well it's a delicate balance of cereal, fruit, nuts, seeds, yoghurt and sometimes a boiled egg or two. In fact it looks like an advert from Healthy magazine!
So having been here a week our diet has changed considerably, and Mum, I promise we're far from hungry! My only slight concern is that we might return with the stature of a 1st year uni student who survives on nothing but pasta!
Here's our typical daily intake:
Breakfast: noodles, chapati, dhal and rice. If G's lucky then toast fried in ghee and mango jam too. Tea... A tiny cup with 3 spoons of sugar is standard out here!
Lunch: rice, dhal, vegetables.
Dinner: rice, dhal, noodles, potatoes and chicken/veg curry and more chapati. All delicious!
Ah to have some protein! Sutita, the lady of the house, is keen that we introduce the family to some British dishes, but with no oven (initial thought was apple pie) and very few ingredients, we are a little stuck. I managed a credible banana custard two nights ago, which went down well, but we're keen to do better!
So, here's a competition for you all... Give us some best dish ideas. The parameters:
A single gas hob, no beef, no fish, few veggies that you or I would recognise available. Oh, and I'm not that keen on having to butcher the chicken/goat myself!
Looking forward to hearing your ideas! Xx
So having been here a week our diet has changed considerably, and Mum, I promise we're far from hungry! My only slight concern is that we might return with the stature of a 1st year uni student who survives on nothing but pasta!
Here's our typical daily intake:
Breakfast: noodles, chapati, dhal and rice. If G's lucky then toast fried in ghee and mango jam too. Tea... A tiny cup with 3 spoons of sugar is standard out here!
Lunch: rice, dhal, vegetables.
Dinner: rice, dhal, noodles, potatoes and chicken/veg curry and more chapati. All delicious!
Ah to have some protein! Sutita, the lady of the house, is keen that we introduce the family to some British dishes, but with no oven (initial thought was apple pie) and very few ingredients, we are a little stuck. I managed a credible banana custard two nights ago, which went down well, but we're keen to do better!
So, here's a competition for you all... Give us some best dish ideas. The parameters:
A single gas hob, no beef, no fish, few veggies that you or I would recognise available. Oh, and I'm not that keen on having to butcher the chicken/goat myself!
Looking forward to hearing your ideas! Xx
The champions' league...
Actually it was a quarter final (in fact also the first of the knockout rounds) of the inter school championship, KCS vs Algara, and I was the honorary girl invited to attend...
So imagine the school's 7 best football players, an obvious choice for any team. Now add the caveat that players must be no taller than 5ft and no heavier than 40kg. Couple this with India's love for bureaucracy and you have all the ingredients for a rather unique start to a match.
Before I get started on the match itself, the journey there was something to behold. Initially I was humbled by the plan to walk the school's prize players 6km to the ground, but head teacher Gautam, eager to impress, decided that wheels were required. I had the honour of riding with him in his personal chariot, complete with bejewelled prayer wheels and other religious paraphernalia on the dash. Meanwhile the team, accompanied by an entourage of supporters from the upper years, piled into and on top of an ancient 4x4. Flying the school flag proudly, the players were paraded through town before the 6km ascent to Algara... A far cry from seat belts, parental consent forms and mini bus driver licenses... It was brilliant!
An 11 o'clock start was scheduled and we were there bang on time... Maybe India makes an exception for punctuality when inter-school sporting glory is at stake... But no, the tedious scrutinising procedure began in front of the 4-strong committee. Encouraged to stand in their socks on the sodden playing ground to avoid the shame of being too big, each player was called up in turn. First the height, and then the weight was measured and recored in triplicate. In the event of a borderline call that could not be settled, Gautam himself was drafted in to make the final decision. KCS, masquerading as Arsenal in pristine shirts, made the cut, and i could not help but giggle as Gautam proudly gestured to the school 'team kit'...
Weighed, measured... Let's play ball!! Or so I thought... The obligatory blessing of the pitch and players, the giving and receiving of khodors, that's silk scarves to you and I, to honour the VIPs preceded the start and I, the only girl, felt strangely honoured.
Thick fog shrouded the eventual kick-off and at times neither end of the pitch could be seen. Linesmen authoritatively strode up and down the gouged side lines, stripes in the sand replacing the better-known white paint. But these are mere details... There were 14 players on the pitch and they were loving it! Cheering children were joined by enthusiastic adults, most of Algera were out to watch, and the cheers confirmed this to be a significant event as the home side scored the first goal.
With home advantage clearly paying, fingers began twitching in the KCS camp. The head and 2 accompanying teachers frantically chewed gum and leant forward in their seats... I've seen little more tension on the face of Harry Redknap... Then, the equaliser, KCS were back in with a chance, and the screams of delight from the supporting girls reminded me of crushes on school football heroes!
The rest of the game passed with no real drama and so a penalty shoot out was to decide the semi finalist. Just like England, KCS, in all their Arsenal glory, failed to deliver, but with the sportsmanship that any Olympian would be proud of, they congratulated the winners and walked off with pride.
Photos:
1-3. Let the scrutinising begin!
4. The players in action
5. Gautam oversees a borderline call
6. The scales... Just look at the socks!
7. The team in all their arsenal glory
8. En route to the match...
So imagine the school's 7 best football players, an obvious choice for any team. Now add the caveat that players must be no taller than 5ft and no heavier than 40kg. Couple this with India's love for bureaucracy and you have all the ingredients for a rather unique start to a match.
Before I get started on the match itself, the journey there was something to behold. Initially I was humbled by the plan to walk the school's prize players 6km to the ground, but head teacher Gautam, eager to impress, decided that wheels were required. I had the honour of riding with him in his personal chariot, complete with bejewelled prayer wheels and other religious paraphernalia on the dash. Meanwhile the team, accompanied by an entourage of supporters from the upper years, piled into and on top of an ancient 4x4. Flying the school flag proudly, the players were paraded through town before the 6km ascent to Algara... A far cry from seat belts, parental consent forms and mini bus driver licenses... It was brilliant!
An 11 o'clock start was scheduled and we were there bang on time... Maybe India makes an exception for punctuality when inter-school sporting glory is at stake... But no, the tedious scrutinising procedure began in front of the 4-strong committee. Encouraged to stand in their socks on the sodden playing ground to avoid the shame of being too big, each player was called up in turn. First the height, and then the weight was measured and recored in triplicate. In the event of a borderline call that could not be settled, Gautam himself was drafted in to make the final decision. KCS, masquerading as Arsenal in pristine shirts, made the cut, and i could not help but giggle as Gautam proudly gestured to the school 'team kit'...
Weighed, measured... Let's play ball!! Or so I thought... The obligatory blessing of the pitch and players, the giving and receiving of khodors, that's silk scarves to you and I, to honour the VIPs preceded the start and I, the only girl, felt strangely honoured.
Thick fog shrouded the eventual kick-off and at times neither end of the pitch could be seen. Linesmen authoritatively strode up and down the gouged side lines, stripes in the sand replacing the better-known white paint. But these are mere details... There were 14 players on the pitch and they were loving it! Cheering children were joined by enthusiastic adults, most of Algera were out to watch, and the cheers confirmed this to be a significant event as the home side scored the first goal.
With home advantage clearly paying, fingers began twitching in the KCS camp. The head and 2 accompanying teachers frantically chewed gum and leant forward in their seats... I've seen little more tension on the face of Harry Redknap... Then, the equaliser, KCS were back in with a chance, and the screams of delight from the supporting girls reminded me of crushes on school football heroes!
The rest of the game passed with no real drama and so a penalty shoot out was to decide the semi finalist. Just like England, KCS, in all their Arsenal glory, failed to deliver, but with the sportsmanship that any Olympian would be proud of, they congratulated the winners and walked off with pride.
Photos:
1-3. Let the scrutinising begin!
4. The players in action
5. Gautam oversees a borderline call
6. The scales... Just look at the socks!
7. The team in all their arsenal glory
8. En route to the match...
Classrooms...
It will come as no surprise that KCS finds itself lost in the middle ground that is somewhere between school and building site. I mean, hell, I think that some fluorescent jacketed automaton of the HSE would probably flee screaming. Yesterday's school inter-house quiz is an excellent example. Trying hard to imitate University Challenge (but taken so so much more seriously: at practice - yes, quiz PRACTICE! - yesterday I think at one point the poor kids were facing at least three Paxmans at once), it needed to ape the modernity: a music and video round essential. Held in class 6's new classroom posed a small, but, in that entirely resourceful Indian way, surmountable problem - one of no electricity. No problem I hear you say... Simple. Run a thin pair of wires from the house 50 yards away, hard wired no doubt into a socket, and then simply tape it to the plug for the 4-way adapter. Safe as houses. Although of course it worked perfectly... Who needs PAT testing and electricians doing surveys anyway?
But I must return to class 6's room. It's gonna be a great success WHEN it's finished. Big, airy (something to do with no windows), and light: room for all sorts of educational activities. For me at the moment, as it is still under construction (the builders work round the children when there's lessons), these are mere details. It's actually a great source of sand, bricks, and wood for building lesson models and props for demonstrations. In many ways it will be far less useful on its completion. It transpires though that I am not its only fan. Twice, not just on a unique occasion, have my early morning eager foragings in class 6's laboratory been obstructed by dogpoo. Some canine mongrel choosing not one of the unmade litter strewn streets for his morning constitution, but instead a much trampled entrance to the newest building in town... Just another norm in great Indian life.
Righto, it's back to reality this afternoon, so first Sarah and I are off to the only 'patisserie' in the region, a notable gaff called 3Cs for breakfast. More next week...
Photos below are of the quiz, which was hosted by no less than Sheiramiss and Gilessir!
But I must return to class 6's room. It's gonna be a great success WHEN it's finished. Big, airy (something to do with no windows), and light: room for all sorts of educational activities. For me at the moment, as it is still under construction (the builders work round the children when there's lessons), these are mere details. It's actually a great source of sand, bricks, and wood for building lesson models and props for demonstrations. In many ways it will be far less useful on its completion. It transpires though that I am not its only fan. Twice, not just on a unique occasion, have my early morning eager foragings in class 6's laboratory been obstructed by dogpoo. Some canine mongrel choosing not one of the unmade litter strewn streets for his morning constitution, but instead a much trampled entrance to the newest building in town... Just another norm in great Indian life.
Righto, it's back to reality this afternoon, so first Sarah and I are off to the only 'patisserie' in the region, a notable gaff called 3Cs for breakfast. More next week...
Photos below are of the quiz, which was hosted by no less than Sheiramiss and Gilessir!
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