From Brahma to Buddha, Fall 2008

She was really quiet, especially at first. In fact, a lot of the girls I met were really shy. We spent two days at Domkhar High School. The first one was specifically English conversation day. I first went with the 1-4 graders (SOO sweethearts. We hokey-pokey-ed it up. They knew all sorts of bodyparts. Even eyebrows. I was impressed. I taught them “heel,” though. And did cartwheels to teach them the word “up-side-down.” I love their lack of inhibition). Then I went with the 7th and 8th graders though. The contrast was shocking and reeeeally interesting. They were so quiet. Unbelievably so. Even the boys were shy to talk, but especially the girls. A lot of them would look down when I looked to them, and I ended up just talking about myself for about half an hour. When I tried to ask them questions back, they would look down and acted like that meant I couldn’t see them. Even if I addressed a particular student, a few times they would just turn away and not answer. It was immensely intriguing.

As I learned more about the education system in general (we had a few talks about it), it made sort of more sense. There are a few major government tests, especially the class 10 exam, which if you don’t pass, you cannot continue your studies. The thing that pains me, though, is how much the tests are memorization-based. I don’t think I even know the full extent of it, but Tracy was explaining that they have these big books of facts to study, and then the test is basically an “essay” question on one thing from the book, where you essentially have to re-spew out, almost word for word, what is in the study book—the kind of thing that would probably have you kicked out of school for plagiarism in the States. The kids are taught to memorize, not to think for themselves, formulate opinions, think critically, or have faith in their own ideas. It’s painful to see such a waste: when school is so fairly widespread, it le sucks that the institutionalized system isn’t serving the students like it could be.

I thought about my own education: I went through a phase in 9th and 10th grade where I haaated history. I thought I was horrible at it. I spent ages on the readings, and hardly spoke in class because I thought that there were right answers I was supposed to know that I just hadn’t gotten out of the assignments. It took until my second semester of sophomore US history, when I got an A on an essay and was wholly surprised that I was capable of that, for me to realize that there weren’t right answers I was missing, but that it was all about taking in information, processing it, and backing up my arguments.
That was a real anagnorisis for me. Until then, I was really shy to speak because I was afraid to be wrong. But when I gained more faith in my ability to craft my own opinions and synthesize information, I was much more confident in class.
That confidence and self-faith are, I feel, most lacking in the education system here. I don’t know enough about it. I don’t know if it’s the Jammu & Kashmir system, or the whole of India. But it’s definitely had me thinking even more about the role of education, and the importance not just of school, but what specifically is taught and learned there.

Anyway, Dolma was such a sweetheart. I loved picking potato leaves (“aloo lomar”) with her. She braided my hair, taught me Ladakhi dance, and showed me how to crack open walnuts and apricot pits.

My Ama-le was adorable. She didn’t speak much English, but let me watch her milk the cows and got so excited when I learned how to say that butter tea is delicious in Ladakhi. And my Aba-le was so curious. He retired last year from being the Domkhar High School headmaster, and he asked me sooo many questions. I answered his questions about the American Indians, the Bermuda Triangle, Barack Obama, and which was the most populous US state (I confirmed with Doug the next day, to be sure, but we reached a consensus that it is in fact California, fyi, in case you ever find yourself cornered with the question in rural Ladakh). I made a list for him of all the parts of speech (for which my visual memory excitedly recalled that Montessori 8-part stencil with all the different grammar shapes), and I listed all the helping verbs, which I was surprised I still remembered from when we memorized them in middle school, and which I never expected to need to draw upon, least of all anywhere like this.

We left a few days ago, and arrived here at SECMOL. Mom and Dad, my Ama-le packed up a giant plastic bag full of dried apricots (verrrry common snack) for me to take home for you. I tried to explain that I won’t be home until essentially January. She doesn’t speak much English. So, know that she’s thinking of you, but they are heavy, and I’m sorry if they don’t exactly make it all the way through Dharamsala and Jaipur.

Also, mom: I have been drinking some of the lemon water packet things. They are very handy. The water here tasted funny the other day and it helped much. You were right you win I’m sorry.

Also also, I know you haven’t heard from me in a while, so just so you don’t worry, I want you to know that although I do have a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose (so does basically everybody), nobody has been anywhere even remotely near a hospital, so fret not.

We’re leaving (tomorrow?) on trek. I’m actually really excited. I am going to be very smelly, I’ll warn you in advance, just in case it carries all the way to Massachusetts.

Everyone, I miss you muchly.

I’m having a good time here at SECMOL. It is a non-governmental institution, started a number of years ago, where students come who have failed at least two subjects in their 10th class exam. They live here, and retake their 10th grade as “foundation students,” and then if they want to they can continue living here in 11th and 12th grade while they attend a government school in Leh. The students are so open, and so accessible, and so welcoming and so confident in their skin. The atmosphere is so nurturing and healthy. They dance and sing, are unafraid to act remarkably goofy, and make so much effort to bring us into the community. I feel so lucky to get to learn so much from them about how to be so open and comfortable in their own skin, and how to make such an active effort to reach out and draw others into that energy.

I’m sorry this turned out so long.
‘I would have written you a shorter blogpost, but I didn’t have the time.’ (That was maybe Walt Whitman who said that?) He kept a blog. Little known fact.

Talk to you all later,
Oodles of loovle,
<3 sandy

p.s. Dear Jake and Sam,
we miss you
hope all is well
continue to be back-flip-inducing-ly awesome,
please and thanks