primary school teachers the twists and turns of everyday practice

Version 20 Oct 08, edited final
administrative head. At the end of the exercise the number of teachers trained is
compiled and the expenditure statement prepared.
Even when promising new approaches are introduced (like Nali Kali or ABL, ILIP or
Teacher Empowerment), the initial promise soon dissipates as the programme
follows a predictable trajectory:
⇒
⇒
⇒
⇒
⇒
⇒
⇒
Someone at the national or state level becomes convinced of a new approach
that could change the school from being dysfunctional to a vibrant learning
institution. Sometimes the idea is shared by a larger group of peer leaders who
jointly own the idea.
This idea is then tried out on a modest scale. A lot of effort goes into nurturing
the pilot—national, state, district and school level people work together as a
team. Practitioners outside the system are invited to participate (sometimes
even partner). Organisations like RIVER of Madanapalle, Homi Bhabha
Centre, Sandhan or Bodh join in and work with people in government.
Papers are written and presentations made, and if the ‘innovation’ is deemed
exciting, best practice case studies are commissioned. The new approach is
hailed as a ‘good practice’. Some teachers bask under the nurturing umbrella
of the new approach—they start engaging with conceptual and philosophical
issues.
Then the leader decides to scale up—moving from one or two blocks in a
district to cover the entire state, from a few hundred schools to thousands of
schools. This is where the first slip occurs. The painstaking process involved in
nurturing the pilot is soon forgotten and the ‘innovation’ is cast in stone as a
template. Teacher-training is rolled out—in the cascade mode—not
significantly different from the run of the mill training that we are so familiar
with, even though there may be differences in methodology and the material
produced; the programme may even be participatory. The roll-out is carefully
monitored—the leader and his or her trusted lieutenants criss-cross the state,
talk to teachers, visit schools, meet parents and so on. A great deal of energy is
unleashed.
As a year or may be even two years roll by, cracks begin to appear—the
scaled-up model is a far cry from the pilot. The language and vocabulary
sound familiar, but deep down it is not the same. What is lost is teachers’
ownership of the process. People speak in hushed tones—‘the process was
short-circuited, teachers were not taken into confidence, the education
establishment is hitting back’.
The leader who initiated the new approach is transferred or retires. A new
person arrives, and starts off asking questions, and ultimately follows the
bureaucratic dharma: ‘undo what my predecessor did!’
Ongoing projects are not rejected outright; they are allowed to fade away.
Something new appears on the horizon: a new visionary with a new idea?
Rajasthan has seen any number of ‘innovations’ in education and in women and
rural development. The development landscape of the state is strewn with examples
of innovations that once showed a lot of promise but quickly faded away. With each
successive wave in education, especially from 1987 to the present, teachers got more
cynical. In a group discussion with teachers of Tonk and Jaipur districts (February
2008) it was apparent that they cherish the memories, they remember some training
programmes that changed the way they look at learning—yet today they are back
into the same fold, the same predictable routine.
61