A few years ago, I started visiting schools as part of research for one of my books. I would sit quietly and observe children in classrooms, playgrounds, dining halls and various nooks and corners as they went about their lives. I learned more about children in those months than I ever could have, reading any textbooks or any of the degrees I have acquired over the years. I saw how power and privilege play out in schools, who gets to be seen, whose voices are heard and who are left invisible. I remember one of the classes where a teacher made me sit next to a little boy whom she had earlier described as having “special needs.” This little boy’s hand would shoot up every time the teacher asked a question and every time it was ignored, with not even a look in his direction, as the teacher went about responding to the louder voices in the classroom. After the class was over, I tentatively reached out my hand for a high five with him, and the same hand shot out at me with the most gleeful look on his face. As I walked away, I wondered what words I could find to describe what I had witnessed — persistence, hope, courage? To me, that hand in the air was symbolic of a quiet determination to be seen and to be heard. But what would happen as months and years would go by? When the humiliation of not being heard or seen would start robbing him of hope and worthiness. When the teacher would tell his mother in PTMs that he was just not keeping up with the rest of the class. When the structural injustices would lead to him being alienated or even bullied. No medals on sports days, no limelight on stage, no stories in school magazines, no poetry or painting on class board. Just years and years of invisibility. And maybe there would be a time he would hide all the pain behind defiance of “I don’t care,” bunking classes and a fog of anger. Maybe he might become like that young boy from senior school who told me, “I feel like a ghost in school, everyone looks through me.” As I shook my head from the spiral of doom, I looked back to see him still standing there — waving at me with the same glee. I waved back and there was a different lightness in my heart and my walk as I told myself, “Or maybe it will be all right. Maybe he will find an audience for his stories.” Story is not a story until it has found an audience We make sense of this world through stories as they help us give meaning to our experiences. They do not just describe our lives, but they shape our lives, too. Would a turning point happen in the little boy’s life when he would meet a teacher who would give him an audience for his stories to take wings and fly? Bubble Time: An amazing teacher I know uses what she calls ‘Bubble time’ to weave in audience for children’s stories. She arranges it well in advance and all her kids love this ‘Bubble time’ where they talk about anything they want to — their worries, life in general, pressures, dreams, hopes and aspirations. It is like a focused light that she intentionally shines on each child, one at a time so that no child is left invisible. She told me that even if there were 40 children in a class, through a cyclical roster, each child could get at least 10 minutes of “bubble time” every two months. The intention was to touch base and give a mindful, undistracted audience without any judgment, lecture or attempt at fixing the child. It was done in a very casual, relaxed, friendly manner with no agenda. Just to communicate a simple message, “I see you; I hear you and you matter to me.” I remember a friend once shared with me a difficult time she was going through in her life when she was in school. One of her teachers approached her in the corridor and patted her on the shoulder with a gentle and understanding smile. That’s it. This is the warm memory she is carrying with her till today. Maybe many of you will have treasured memories of a teacher reaching out and letting you know that you were not alone. Appreciative audience: Visibility can be created through show-and-tells in the classrooms, birthday celebrations, award ceremonies, assemblies, annual days, PTMs, sports days and so on and so forth. It could be done through creative certificates that children get as recognition not just for academic or sports excellence but for otherwise unnoticed things like, ‘having a brilliant sense of humour’, ‘being kind’. Emails of recognition, messages of gratitude, letters of appreciation, and acknowledgement on the school website, blogs, social media and magazines. There could be designated noticeboards, podcasts, and announcements in schools that become powerful tools for spreading these richer narratives. And not just for a chosen few but for all. Children are seeking these audiences and that may be the reason that teenagers take to Instagram, Snapchat, and YouTube in such a big way as it gives them an audience to hear and become visible. Album of life: Imagine if every child had an album from the day, she entered school. Every year the teachers, her peers and her parents could add different stories to it. It could be acts of courage, sparks of creativity, wisps of compassion, marks of endurance, threads of sensitivity, snapshots of leadership, leaps of out-of-the-box thinking and strands of passion that could be woven together over the years. Pictures, notes, pages, handprints, drawings, awards, paintings, photocopies, recordings — so many ways to honour a child. Even if a teacher added two highlights every year, there would be around 28 precious items in each box. Imagine children’s excitement if they could be presented this collection on their birthdays or their thrill and pride when they are presented their final album when they graduate from school. For audiences to be impactful, they have to be gyaan-free, they have to be diverse, they have to shine on preferred stories of the child, they have to build a sense of solidarity and not competition, and most of all they have to honour the dignity of every child and give the message that, “You matter, no matter what.” For all the latest Parenting News, download Indian Express App.
