July 3, 2003

Schoolchildren voice the troubles they have with the system of education, writes Robin Fernandez

Schoolchildren in Karachi made a fresh attempt to record their travails in and out of the classroom during a Juvenile Assembly session held this month. The session, organized by the Hamdard Foundation, provided children with a platform to vent their feelings.

The observations recorded were unusually candid and allowed teachers and parents to examine first-hand education issues from a child’s perspective.

With a penchant for plaintive logic and tell-it-like-it-is honesty, the children made many adults realize the seriousness of their “save-our-backbones” appeal — a direct call for lessening their classroom burden.

One slogan raised in the assembly was particularly popular, “Save our backbones today and forever preserve the nation’s backbone.” In the opinion of the deputies, the slogan encapsulated the struggle of young students.

Alay Zia of a prestigious school was the first to take up the cudgels for trimmer and lighter schoolbags. While presenting her resolution before the Juvenile Assembly, Alay reminded other child deputies about a recent statement issued by Prime Minister Zafarullah Jamali, on the burden young schoolchildren had to bear.

The prime minister let it be known that the satchels of students were overstuffed and far too heavy and hence needed to be lighter. But, she claimed, lower ranking officials in relevant government departments ignored his statement altogether.

“Those officials are in deep slumber. For that is what allows graft and corruption to take root,” she moaned. Another female student was more candid in her speech. She wanted to know if the Prime Minister was really serious in his desire to lighten children’s burden.

According to several speakers, schoolchildren have started to resemble beasts of burden these days. “Just take a look at the heavy schoolbags pupils are carrying...they look more like domesticated animals,” Alay says, delighting in the image conjured by her. A round of applause followed immediately.

Alay then cautioned school authorities against the “folly of adding to the long, required-reading list” of pupils. “More textbooks do not ensure a better curricula,” she argued in her resolution.

Many private schools as well as parents are guilty of creating just such a linkage. Even educational institutions of repute seem to miss the point of education.

Alay noted that those studying in government schools often secure the highest marks in the Board of Education examinations. “These schools humble the best private educational institutions when it comes to exam success,” she points out. Her remark ignites scattered debate among the assembly members and the viewing public.

Of course, not all think Alay is right in her contention. And those who did weren’t sure how much of a demerit it was to secure a top position in the board examinations.

However, Alay’s rival, Syed Fouad Hassan, poked fun at the resolution, because it “trivialized a subject as significant as education”. “It is a silly appeal. Almost as silly as saying we should now go to school without satchels,” he intones mockingly.

Fouad said his rival’s appeal for smaller schoolbags was akin to playing cricket without a helmet. “That would be a foolhardy thing to do. Much harm would be done if schoolchildren carried fewer books, however.” Declaring the issue of lighter schoolbags irrelevant, Fouad launched into a diatribe on the shoddy way textbooks are printed and sold.

The Sindh Textbook Board, in particular, was slagged off for not making course books available to students on time. These and other misdemeanors were committed during the tenure of each successive government. “With every passing government comes a new burden on students. One government makes one language or discipline compulsory and the other outdoes it with a new regulation.”

Some quick-fix methods were suggested. “Half the problems in private schools would end if coaching centers are closed down. The coaching centers should be transformed instead into teacher training institutes,” he said. Fouad also made a counter appeal for sanity. “Worry about the standard of education, and not about the weight of satchels,” he counseled.

Fatima Omar of another school offered some useful observations. “Judging from the heavy books that we are forced to carry in our schoolbags, people should expect us all to become rich and wise by now. But the truth is we have not,” Fatima notes sadly. “Loaded shoulders will not improve the standard of education. For that, we must be open and enlightened.”

Mohanim Zia came up with a creative solution, though he himself wasn’t sure it could be implemented. “If only our books could be transformed into CDs. That way our backs wouldn’t hurt so much,” he said.

Zia reminded his fellow deputies about what the founder of Hamdard, Hakim Muhammad Saeed, used to say about children. “Hakim sahib called us flowers — tender and frail. I am sure he would have supported a rational curriculum size for pupils,” he said after reciting a witty poem about schoolchildren and their satchels.

Another deputy, Bushra Hanif, contended that heavier satchels were taking the pleasure out of learning activities. “Is it necessary to break students’ backs? Why make students run away from books and education?”

To illustrate her point, Bushra made an impromptu calculation. “During the course of a year, an average pupil has to study 10 different subjects. So, he or she would need 15 textbooks — give or take a couple,” she remarked. As each book has 200 or more pages, it is safe to assume that the average student is required to go through at least 3,000 pages annually.

In sheer volume, the task of learning seems specially stupendous for younger pupils. Without batting an eyelid, the plain-speaking Bushra called it “a form of terrorism on young minds.”

Private schools were cited as the leading offenders. On this count, government schools fared better — for they don’t tax their pupils half as much.

Khushboo, of Government Public Secondary School, said it wasn’t possible for any school to complete the year-on-year curricula it planned. Neither teacher nor student could do anything to change that because there were loads of supplementary books to be consulted as well.

She blamed the current state of affairs on the all-consuming lust for profit. “Booksellers, school administrations, officials and even parents run after wholesale profits, and it is their combined lust which has had such a damning effect on education.”

Although there was a generous sprinkling of tired cliches in each speech, the child deputies showed creativity in their use of words and images. A female speaker likened her heavy schoolbag to an encyclopedia set or mini-library, while her male counterpart expounded on the creaking backbones of students.

One of the doyennes of female education in Pakistan and special guest at the Juvenile Assembly, Mariam Farooqi, told members of the children’s assembly that their grievances against the education system would be removed once they became rulers themselves.

There is a marked difference between today’s and yesterday’s pupils. Until a couple of decades ago, she said, educational standards used to be much higher. The veteran teacher reminded students and their teachers that education wasn’t the sole responsibility of the government.

“There are many more players in this vital sector. Everyone must play their part,” she said. The local councils and city government officials could, for instance, become involved in a wider effort to boost education. “The Prime Minister, Chief Minister and the provincial deputies can’t be expected to resolve all issues,” she pointed out. “There has to be a greater sharing of responsibilities.”

Ms Mariam is also critical of the role of mothers. “What about mothers? What are they doing? Why are they not keeping tabs on their children?” she thunders. Parents must shake off their lethargy and maintain an interactive relationship with their offspring. At the very least, Ms Mariam said, they need to wake up before it’s too late.

And indeed some parents did when the veteran teacher proposed one lasting solution to the nation’s education ills. “Hereafter, we ought to force our civil servants to send all their children to public schools. Then perhaps we can expect officials to do something other than to pay lip-service to the cause of education.”

No sooner had she said this that the little deputies went into a frenzy of clapping, only to be joined later by adult visitors in the chamber. Members of the Juvenile Assembly were later given prizes by the chief guest and Hamdard Foundation staff.

What’s in the bag? — the real showstopper at the Hamdard Naunehal event — was a play about an anonymous student who is questioned, browbeaten and finally pitied for carrying heavy books on his frail shoulders.

From the opening scene to the final curtain, the student is unable to steer himself out of controversy and make others understand that he is a victim. At first, he is falsely accused of littering the street with banana peels and endangering the public.

The boy remains silent all through the haranguing sessions, which were jointly administered by an elderly man and woman. The pair’s actions and words were, of course, symbolic of the attitude of parents, educators and officials. Even when the elderly man and woman lift the schoolbag themselves, they are no closer to guessing the bag’s contents.

At this stage, a young man makes a surprise appearance and asks the boy’s tormentors why they hadn’t questioned him about it. The mystery is about to be solved. Tears flow down the boy’s cheeks. Gasping, he tells the inquisition team, “This is my schoolbag. It is too heavy. Please save me.”

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