Six teenagers in Murshidabad are giving all they can to teach children from extremely poor families. A voluntary mission that has a lesson for everyone.
Jaideep Mazumdar Jaideep Mazumdar | 16 Feb, 2010
Six teenagers are giving all they can to teach children from extremely poor families.
When most lads his age relax or rush off to play after the day’s grind in school, Ashutosh Ghosh trudges 2 km through paddy fields in Bengal’s backward Murshidabad district to carry out what is truly a lofty mission—spreading literacy among his less fortunate brethren who don’t have the time and the resources to attend formal schools. Ashutosh, 18, a Class XII student at Azizia High Madrasah at Bhapta, about 200 km north of Kolkata, leads a group of six teenagers who’ve taken it upon themselves to teach 200-odd children, and some women as well, for three hours every afternoon.
The ‘school’ they run can hardly be called that—it’s a bare patch of land surrounded by acres of farmland. Bedraggled children and women sit in neat rows, reciting poems and learning to put two and two together. Most of the ‘students’ here are Muslims and come from extremely poor families, who not only can’t afford to send them to schools, but also need their children to help in household chores or as farmhands.
Welcome to Surjodoy Vidyapeeth at Gopinathpur, a bumpy kilometre’s drive off National Highway 34, which connects North Bengal to Kolkata. This ‘school’ was started on 26 February 2008 after Ashutosh walked out of a similar project he had started with classmate Babar Ali in 2002, following allegations against that ‘school’ called Ananda Niketan of malpractice and misappropriation of huge sums of money received as donations. “It was a dream that shattered. We started off so well when we were in Class V,” says Ashutosh, whose father is a small-time contractor.
Ashutosh and his now-estranged friend Babar used to ‘act’ as teachers after their school hours, ‘teaching’ whatever they had learnt in class to their siblings and other kids from the locality. “It started off as a game where we would play-act the role of teachers. And then we thought we could actually help poor kids around us. We launched our ‘school’ eight years ago and roped in many educationists, professionals and others from even [district headquarters] Behrampore,” recalls Ashutosh. The novel initiative got a lot of publicity and attention, with even Nobel laureate Amartya Sen inviting the duo to a workshop in Santiniketan three years ago. Unfortunately, as with many such initiatives, this too got mired in controversies and unsavoury allegations, forcing many benefactors, patrons and donors to pull out gradually. It was then that Ashutosh decided to launch his own ‘school’ to “keep alive our childhood dream of helping our poor brothers and sisters”.
Running a ‘school’, as Ashutosh knows only too well, isn’t an easy task. “We don’t have any blackboard or books, and even paper to write on is scarce,” says Ismail Sheikh, 16, a Class X student at the Azizia Madrasah. Ashutosh and his fellow teachers raise money from their parents, relatives and a small group of well-wishers. But funds are meagre, since most, including the families of the six teachers, aren’t well off. For the past few weeks, these teenagers have been struggling to raise money required to buy blank papers their students can use as answer sheets for the annual examination slated for end-February. “We need one blackboard at least, and some chalks,” says Abu Salim Mullick, a teacher at the Vidyapeeth and a Class X student at Netaji High School in Bhapta. Classmate Abuhena, who also teaches at the Vidyapeeth, use a piece of brick to demonstrate simple arithmetic on the wall of a small house that borders the two kattha (about 134 square metre) plot of land donated to the Vidyapeeth by one Nazir Hussain. Ashutosh’s classmate Gulbadan, who also teaches at the Vidyapeeth, uses lotus leaves as slates and twigs as chalk to teach simple arithmetic to the students. And then there’s the weather to battle. During the monsoons, a nearby brick kiln is their only refuge. “When it rains, we shift to a shelter at this brick kiln. If it rains too heavily, we have to suspend classes. The scorching summers are bad as well. During the winter, swarms of mosquitoes invade us,” says Iqbal Hussain, another teacher and a Class X student at the Azizia Madrasah.
But what the school lacks in infrastructure is more than made up by the unbelievable enthusiasm and dogged determination of the band of six teenagers and their eager students. For the latter, Surjodoy Vidyapeeth is their only hope to get some education and, perhaps, break away from the shackles of poverty. Jinarul Sheikh, 8, is a cowherd for a major part of the day, but makes it a point to rush to school at 4 pm every day. “I wish to become a graduate and get a job, wear a shirt and trousers and go to office with a bag,” he tells Open. His six-year-old sister, Khalida, a student of Class II at the Vidyapeeth, wants to become a nurse. “Surjodoy has kindled hopes of a bright future among many extremely poor kids. Many of the students at that school now dare to dream,” says Biman Chatterjee, a prominent physician of Behrampore, who was also associated with Ananda Niketan.
It’s not just the kids who have started dreaming, but adult women too. Like Shamsunnahar Begum, a mother of two, who dropped out of a formal school in Class VIII. “I’ve been studying here for the past one year. Next year, I’ll take the Class X board exams as a private candidate,” says Shamsunnahar , who also doubles as an assistant at the Vidyapeeth. Once she gets through the exams, she’ll join Ashutosh and the five others to teach at this Vidyapeeth.
This school follows the same syllabus as all other state-approved schools and madrasahs in Bengal. “We teach only till the Class VIII level here. After that, our students can enrol themselves in a regular school,” says Ashutosh as he puts the final touches to the next session’s academic calendar. “It [the next session] will start on March 11 and we’ll have 175 days of classes, in addition to many of the 52 Sundays to make up for the lost days during heavy rains or intense heat spells. There’ll be three exams and the session will end with the calendar year,” he tells his students.
The ‘teachers’ have to do some tough and deft balancing as well. They have their own studies, homework and exams to concentrate on, apart from teaching. “It’s difficult, but we manage to keep good grades in school,” Ismail Sheikh says with a smile.
Ashutosh and his fellow teachers maintain very close links with the families of their students. “We visit the family of any student who is absent for more than two days. Initially, we had to convince some parents to send their children to our school,” says Gulbadan.
Classes at the Vidyapeeth start with an assembly at which the national anthem is sung and a few teachings of Swami Vivekananda are read out. The students then disperse to their respective ‘classes’, which are small squares and rectangles marked on the patch of land. And the teaching and learning process begins with an intensity and fervour that would be hard to match at many formal schools.
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