Parent's quest for quality education

This article appeared in kathmandu post available in following link http://m.ekantipur.com/2012/04/24/oped/our-school-bazaars/352869.html

Parent's quest for ramro school

Dadhiram Khanal

Neeti Aryal Khanal

apednepal@gmail.com

Before, the misconception sets in, we have few disclaimers. First, we are not experts in education. Second, we are neither against private nor public education system. We do not present solutions, just share the dilemmas of parents which we feel hasn't been appropriately addressed by the government and concerned educational institutions. 

Despite the difference, all middle class parents have one thing in common: we have limited means but unlimited dreams. And a part of that dream is future of our children in which education plays an important role. We earn our livelihood through lawful means. We may not be able to fulfill all wishes and whims of our children. We compromise on our living style but we do not want to leave any stone unturned in pursuit of quality education for our children. 

Let's start from the very simple question? Which school do we want to put our child in? Let's be frank, it's true that public school do not count even as an option.  Even low income working parents cut their expenses in basic needs to put their children in "boarding" school. Why is this, we will this question for experts to sort out. 

Search for ramro school usually starts when the child is born but becomes more profound when the child turns around six and is about to start grade one. Usually parents start planning almost a year ahead consulting other parents who have been lucky enough to find the "right" school. Almost 2, 3 months prior admission, we start visiting several ramro schools and collecting brochure which often comes with a heavy price of the admission form. In the month of chaitra, we hop in from one school to another for entrance exams.  We are impressed and scared at the same time by some school's academic rigor, seeing the piece of paper that gives us details about the questions to be covered in entrance exams. And in the playground we sit and chat with other waiting parents and heave a sigh of relief that we are not the only one going through this rite de passage.  

If we look closely, the experience is similar to that of shopping for fashionable T-Shirt. Like fashion houses, there are education houses with a particular brand name:  big and small. Each school comes with bright color, attractive messages, slogans and one liner which they call "motto". On top of that, like a fashion brand, schools are advertised in media. Past few days, we keenly observed few advertisement of the school in television. One school boasted of "swimming pool", another bragged of "computer based learning". The most interesting of all, was an advertisement showing a boy not being able to solve a color puzzle. Then the girl joined in and solved it in an instant, then came the voice over, stating the name of school she studied in. And the camera lingered a bit on the face of proud mother who made the "right" choice. The question is, does a good school even need to advertise? Indeed, education has become a commodity. It seems as if parents are buyers; schools are retailers selling dreams of "quality education". In this whole process of buying and selling, our children are transformed into a product themselves, to be molded according to dreams of parents and guarantees offered by school. But what about children themselves?

What is the yardstick to measure ramro school? Buildings, desks, benches, playground, toys, swimming pool? The missing puzzle is the teachers. What matters most is how child is taught, the environment in the classroom, is there a teacher who is genuinely interested in teaching? Is that teacher well trained, is that teacher well paid? These questions are seldom asked and rarely answered. 

It seems as if we believe that the more expensive the school is the more quality education it offers. But is it really so? Few days back, one of our relatives announced that he is enrolling his child into a very "good" school which is better than one of the big brand name school in Kathmandu. We wanted to know how he came to that conclusion. "Fees", he said, "they charge higher fees than that good school". When we heard the amount of fees charged by some of the very ramro schools, our jaws dropped. We even felt little guilty over being such a bad parent for not being able to afford "quality" education. 

Majority of parents in Kathmandu send their children to school far from their home in quest of quality education. This requires children to eat dal bhat around 7.30 am in morning and reach bus stop at 8. In evening, they come back with homework which leaves them little time to play and have fun. The most challenging transition is for the children who start their grade one in new schools. From a close knit small pre-schools, they move into larger schools. For these new grade oners, their school hours become longer and their bags heavier.  

If only there was one single education system which ensured similar level of quality in all schools. With this, we could send our children to nearest school forgoing an hour long bus journey back and forth in traffic mad, busy street of Kathmandu. If only, education for our children was more about learning and discovering than being the bearer of a brand name of education houses. But these are still farfetched dreams. 

Thus, we must embrace the reality. Our son is starting new school from today. Waking early ourselves, we nudge the sleepy little boy and steer him to bathroom. While eating daal bhat, he can't stop talking about his new uniform and glossy new books. He can't wait to play in large playground and colorful slide at his new school.  The doubts linger while we hold his little hand ushering him to his new big school bus. Will he be able to make friends, will his teachers care for him, will he survive? But then, looking at all those bright young faces in a bus along with him, a relief comes over. If they made it, he will too. 

As parents of two children, the writers are interested in different issues relating to parenting in   Nepal. 

Teej: negotiating between modernity and tradition

Edited version of this article appeared in Kathmandu post, available in following link 

http://www.ekantipur.com/the-kathmandu-post/2012/09/17/oped/bedecked-with-bangles/239756.html

Teej: negotiating between modernity and tradition

Sparkling bangles and bindis, women singing and dancing in odd places and times of the day in neighborhood, images of women in red sari taking over facebook timeline: festive season of Teej is here once more. Ask anyone about Teej, they are sure to have very passionate opinions about it: men or women, follower or non follower. Some are vehemently against it, some are ardently supporting it.  And in between that, some women like me do not know anymore whether to love or hate Teej. Coming into age in 1990s at the height of feminist movement in Nepal, many so called modern Nepali women share an uncomfortable relationship with Teej. When seen from religious discourses that require women to worship lord Shiva for long life of husband, Teej seems worst remnant of patriarchal society. But can Teej be easily dismissed as patriarchal ideology alone? Answers are not that easy.  

Practice of Teej came into being when male supremacy was unquestioned. It was not surprising that religious discourses reflected the reality of that time. For women of previous generations including many rural women at present, Teej marks an end of agricultural season, when overworked daughter-in-laws could finally go to their maita, eat, sing and dance to their heart's content. While conforming to patriarchal ideology, such as" fasting for husband's long life" and 'drinking water from husband's feet", women could practice their agency within that constrained traditional space. Thus, Teej on one hand required women to conform to male domination but on the other hand also allowed to question the very same. Though Teej songs have been repeatedly dismissed as "lamentations of women against their husband and mother-in-law", close examination of these songs can help us conclude how political it was. Teej allowed women an opportunity to question the power imbalances of society based on gender. It may be hard to regard it as so at first.  But we all know that Teej is not something one celebrates in isolation.  Women celebrate amongst one's family, kins and friends. Thus, when masses of women question the power inequalities and injustices at a particular time, Teej does not remain a cultural/religious festival alone, it transforms into a political force that is capable of transforming society. 

Teej is also a thread that helps women to weave their memories into their life story. Recollecting my own memories of Teej, I never once kept fast before marriage. My two best friends (one Bahun and other Newar) started to fast in Teej since their early teenage years. They were teased mercilessly for their perseverance and patience to continue fasting year after year. It is still debatable what prompted them: religious faith or desire for good life partner, perhaps both. But probing deeper, one can argue that many new generation women who are educated and have strong career goals, Teej has became a means to negotiate a balance between modernity and tradition. Teej, is perhaps new generation Nepali women's way of proving that though they are embracing modern lifestyles and values, they are still "good daughters" and "good wives" like their mother, albeit different. As, fasting in Teej requires certain qualities that are synonymous with image of good daughter and wife in Nepal: spirituality, patience, devotion and endurance.  While my friends kept gruesome fasting, I took part in all fun aspect of Teej, dancing, eating, dressing, make up, minus most crucial aspect: fasting. Sometimes, my involvement in festivities was questioned, which made me even more adamant in my ways. This deviance perhaps stemmed as a resistance to cultural discourses that described the narrowed image of ideal women and their pre-destined life course: marriage and motherhood.  

But I could not resist Teej any longer. I started fasting soon after marriage with the enthusiasm that comes with being a newly married woman. With scrutinizing gaze of society that is constantly watching for any slips or falls that newly married woman makes: I could not help but give in. As, for newly married women, fasting in Teej becomes a means to express their marital happiness, which may not always exist. Over the years, I have come to embrace Teej as an important part of my life. It has become a strong medium for me to express love to my husband and to strengthen the bond between my mother and friends. I always cherish receiving churapote from my relatives and equally relish giving back something similar. Though this is an expensive practice and may even seen as meaningless charade on surface level, this circular exchange of gifts helps to maintain close tie amongst women relatives and friends.  

Obviously, modern Nepali women do not always agree with all practices and ideology surrounding Teej. But they celebrate it every year with continued resistance and acceptance. Thus, the practices, rituals and ideologies surrounding Teej are gradually changing. At present, fasting may no longer mean being complete "nirahar" and "nirjal". Each family these days have their own idea about the nature of fast: is it total fasting without food and water whole day, is it drinking water only, is it having a bowl of fruits and milk soon after the visit to temple?  Thus, Teej should not be as much of a charade for women, like it seems to be. Similarly, what comprises of durr is also changing. Though self proclaimed protectors of pure Nepali culture argue that women should stick to traditional durr: rice cooked in ghee, rice pudding, sweets and yoghurt.  But doesn't the choice of food change with time? Durr in its true essence simply meant something delicious that may not always be part of regular meal. Another meaning was to have something sustaining that enabled women to keep fasting. So, it is not surprising that in some of the durr programme and "Teej party" one will find momos, pizzas, pastries and even wine. Most significant of all, practice of "drinking water from husband's feet" is changing too. Observing my own mother's life course, she remembers that it used to be an important ritual that was performed everyday soon after her marriage. After several years, it was limited to major festivities. Then, it was once in a year in occurrence, in Teej. Nowadays, I find it amusing to see whole spectacle of this ritual amongst my parents. While mother follows father pretending to want to "drink water from feet", my father pretends to move afar saying repeatedly "no need".  The ritual still continues in form of this mock performance that continues every year much to the amusement of grandchildren. Though, few remaining generation of chauvinist men still may have sadistic pleasure of having their wives drink water from their feet, I believe that new generation men find it more comforting to be treated as normal mortal men rather than god like figures whose feet need to be worshiped to prove that they are superior. 

So, do not be surprised this Teej if you see group of modern women: some with empty stomach, some with half filled stomach, some with bright red sari, some with kurta tops, some married and some unmarried, some with long hair and some with short hair raising a commotion in the middle of the street singing and dancing with abandon with one hand full of bangles and the other with watch and i-phone.