Her name is Preeti and she is in class 7. She is a student of an NGO in Chandigarh called Hamari Kaksha, which seeks to provide help to underprivileged students - both academic and holistic - after school. She claims her favorite subject to be English and least favorite to be Maths because "wo sab bhool jaati hai." She is chirpy, enthusiastic, bright and a brilliant dancer. Dancer? How do I know this on my first day itself with the NGO? Here's how.
When my team and I FINALLY found the school where Hamari Kaksha held after school classes, we stepped out of the car and were greeted by a sight of a small crowd of children playing outside the Government school, waiting for the class to start. One of the boys was attempting to ride a bicycle on the back tyre alone, hoisting the front tyre in the air with this arms. Others were chasing, giggling, laughing and chatting in small groups.
As we approached - tentatively - for none of us were particularly confident of ourselves as teachers or at handling teenage government school children, the attention of the children seemed to shift slightly. They knew there were strangers among them. They continued to do what they were doing, throwing us an occasional glance as we huddled together as a group of five post graduation communication students.
We entered the premises soon after and while we waited for the person in-charge to arrive, we sat on benches at one end of area, so as to observe and acclimatize ourselves with this unfamiliar environment with now growing number of incoming students who seemed to be glancing at us, pointing us out in the distance. Attempting to brainstorm our objectives for the next ten days for which we would be associated with the NGO, we took notes and discussed how we could apply managerial and/or communication strategies to do our bit for the organization.
While we were busy discussing what we were supposed to be doing as post graduate communication students, I saw a blur in the corner of my eye and the next thing I knew, a little girl with neatly braided hair stood in front of me with her hand outstretched,
"Hello didi, what is your name?"
Her eyes twinkled and her smile was warm. "Geetika, and yours," I replied. "Preeti," she said as I shook her hand. This animated young girl told us she was in class 7 and asked us whether we would be teaching them. She asked us all our names and where we were from and how long we would be there. She asked us lots of questions and as conversed with this happy little thing, we found ourselves getting more and more at ease. Soon, there were three other friends of hers there, just as chirpy and eager to talk to us. They were sitting with us, speaking in their high pitched little voices and we found ourselves laughing and smiling with them, our prejudices and inhibitions melting away.
We spoke to the teacher in-charge and then classes started thereafter, in small batches on the ground itself. We walked around trying to observe and assess first (as per our objectives as post graduation communication students). Students from classes Nursery to class 10, learning names of body parts, salutations in English or poring over their books, scribbling away in their notebooks, and running to their teachers with their questions and answers. Their enthusiasm was heartening; so was their friendliness to us. Every student we spoke to, was well mannered, warm and enthusiastic.
At the end of the day, two things happened. Our prejudices and inhibitions about working with such students had evaporated. We had found ourselves willing to get closer and understand these kids and how they communicated - amongst themselves, with their studies and with their teachers - not only as post graduation communication students, but as people who saw some reflection of themselves in these children. They were not so different from how we were, contrary to our previous perceptions. We were faced by an different socio-economic and educational reality and we had our own notions about it, till these children actually broke our walls.
Secondly, we felt like we had a connection with these children. By the end of those two hours that we were there, some of us had played ball with these children, some of us had spoken to their teachers, who happened to have been schooled here itself and were now volunteering to teach here as well, some of us had pictures clicked with them and some of us even danced with them. This hardworking, hopeful, talented lot had made us feel like a part of their team in such a short period of time. It felt amazing and for me, it left me feeling content and hopeful.
There was a bright gleam in their eyes, a spark in the way each of them confidently greeted us - "Hello didi! Wassup?" or "Hi didi aap kya karte ho?" or "Didi ye na bohot shaitaan hai! Dekho do ladkiyon ke beech mein baitha hai!!". There was a welcoming pull in their midst that made us want to know their likes and dislikes, where they came from and whether they liked to sing or dance. There was a comfort that their company made us feel that made us feel elated when they pulled on our hands and asked us to join in in their games. They put genuine, happy smiles on our faces and made us feel more determined to know more and do more for them, in whatever time we had with them.
For me and another teammate of mine, Rupali, the time at the NGO ended with Preeti and her friends pulling us towards the back of the classroom.
"Didi aap mere sath dance karoge?"
When I asked them where we would get the music, she replied simply by saying, "aapke phone mein hoga na gaana! Koi bhi chala do!" And so we danced! Preeti danced and I followed. Her friends laughed and danced around us and we found ourselves feeling like one of them, no longer strangers. As Balam Pichkaari came to an end, we found ourselves holding hands with these little girls and walking out with them while they extracted reassurances from us that we would come again the next day. After a warm group hug, they walked their way while we made our way to the car.
Reflecting on what how short this experience, the fact that it made us feel refreshed, hopeful and determined while it did away with our tiny, inconsequential inhibitions, how it opened us up to possibilities and how wonderful we were feeling by the end of it, it made us all the more eager to work with Hamari Kaksha and more than anything, the children.
Eyes shining bright,
Smiles full of life,
They made us their own,
In almost no time.
And now as I head back
I can only think
About tomorrow when I
Will come back again.
For that infectious hope,
And to seek that start,
That comes from within,
These beautiful little hearts.
When my team and I FINALLY found the school where Hamari Kaksha held after school classes, we stepped out of the car and were greeted by a sight of a small crowd of children playing outside the Government school, waiting for the class to start. One of the boys was attempting to ride a bicycle on the back tyre alone, hoisting the front tyre in the air with this arms. Others were chasing, giggling, laughing and chatting in small groups.
As we approached - tentatively - for none of us were particularly confident of ourselves as teachers or at handling teenage government school children, the attention of the children seemed to shift slightly. They knew there were strangers among them. They continued to do what they were doing, throwing us an occasional glance as we huddled together as a group of five post graduation communication students.
We entered the premises soon after and while we waited for the person in-charge to arrive, we sat on benches at one end of area, so as to observe and acclimatize ourselves with this unfamiliar environment with now growing number of incoming students who seemed to be glancing at us, pointing us out in the distance. Attempting to brainstorm our objectives for the next ten days for which we would be associated with the NGO, we took notes and discussed how we could apply managerial and/or communication strategies to do our bit for the organization.
While we were busy discussing what we were supposed to be doing as post graduate communication students, I saw a blur in the corner of my eye and the next thing I knew, a little girl with neatly braided hair stood in front of me with her hand outstretched,
"Hello didi, what is your name?"
Her eyes twinkled and her smile was warm. "Geetika, and yours," I replied. "Preeti," she said as I shook her hand. This animated young girl told us she was in class 7 and asked us whether we would be teaching them. She asked us all our names and where we were from and how long we would be there. She asked us lots of questions and as conversed with this happy little thing, we found ourselves getting more and more at ease. Soon, there were three other friends of hers there, just as chirpy and eager to talk to us. They were sitting with us, speaking in their high pitched little voices and we found ourselves laughing and smiling with them, our prejudices and inhibitions melting away.
We spoke to the teacher in-charge and then classes started thereafter, in small batches on the ground itself. We walked around trying to observe and assess first (as per our objectives as post graduation communication students). Students from classes Nursery to class 10, learning names of body parts, salutations in English or poring over their books, scribbling away in their notebooks, and running to their teachers with their questions and answers. Their enthusiasm was heartening; so was their friendliness to us. Every student we spoke to, was well mannered, warm and enthusiastic.
At the end of the day, two things happened. Our prejudices and inhibitions about working with such students had evaporated. We had found ourselves willing to get closer and understand these kids and how they communicated - amongst themselves, with their studies and with their teachers - not only as post graduation communication students, but as people who saw some reflection of themselves in these children. They were not so different from how we were, contrary to our previous perceptions. We were faced by an different socio-economic and educational reality and we had our own notions about it, till these children actually broke our walls.
Secondly, we felt like we had a connection with these children. By the end of those two hours that we were there, some of us had played ball with these children, some of us had spoken to their teachers, who happened to have been schooled here itself and were now volunteering to teach here as well, some of us had pictures clicked with them and some of us even danced with them. This hardworking, hopeful, talented lot had made us feel like a part of their team in such a short period of time. It felt amazing and for me, it left me feeling content and hopeful.
There was a bright gleam in their eyes, a spark in the way each of them confidently greeted us - "Hello didi! Wassup?" or "Hi didi aap kya karte ho?" or "Didi ye na bohot shaitaan hai! Dekho do ladkiyon ke beech mein baitha hai!!". There was a welcoming pull in their midst that made us want to know their likes and dislikes, where they came from and whether they liked to sing or dance. There was a comfort that their company made us feel that made us feel elated when they pulled on our hands and asked us to join in in their games. They put genuine, happy smiles on our faces and made us feel more determined to know more and do more for them, in whatever time we had with them.
For me and another teammate of mine, Rupali, the time at the NGO ended with Preeti and her friends pulling us towards the back of the classroom.
"Didi aap mere sath dance karoge?"
When I asked them where we would get the music, she replied simply by saying, "aapke phone mein hoga na gaana! Koi bhi chala do!" And so we danced! Preeti danced and I followed. Her friends laughed and danced around us and we found ourselves feeling like one of them, no longer strangers. As Balam Pichkaari came to an end, we found ourselves holding hands with these little girls and walking out with them while they extracted reassurances from us that we would come again the next day. After a warm group hug, they walked their way while we made our way to the car.
Reflecting on what how short this experience, the fact that it made us feel refreshed, hopeful and determined while it did away with our tiny, inconsequential inhibitions, how it opened us up to possibilities and how wonderful we were feeling by the end of it, it made us all the more eager to work with Hamari Kaksha and more than anything, the children.
Eyes shining bright,
Smiles full of life,
They made us their own,
In almost no time.
And now as I head back
I can only think
About tomorrow when I
Will come back again.
For that infectious hope,
And to seek that start,
That comes from within,
These beautiful little hearts.
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