Naughtiness Redefined

The Girls Behaving Properly...I think?

I like to think of myself as well versed in the elusive skill of classroom mangement.  For my civilian readers, classroom management is the term used by educators to connote one’s ability to “get kids to act like they have home training so you can teach them a few things on a semi-regular basis.”  Over the years, I have gotten more than a few confirmations that I  have indeed earned the self-awarded title of The Benevolent Dictator.  Several student teachers have thanked me for modeling a tangible example of how to require (and receive) respectful, non-disruptive behavior without being overly punitive or permissive.  Visitors to my school, administrators and fellow teachers routinely comment that it only takes one quick observation of my classroom to know it houses teens who are crystal clear on what I expect from them and are careful not to fall below my expectations.

I  do not tolerate naughtiness in my classroom in the USA so it stands to reason that I would not tolerate naughtiness in my classroom in India, right?

So, here is the thing about cultural norms: they often dictate what we view as acceptable or not.  This, in turn, sets the standard for what we define as crossing the line of  appropriate behavior.  America has a standard for what it defines as students being naughty.  And India has its own standard.

Naughtiness looks REALLY different in India.  It bares so little resemblance to USA naughtiness, somebody needs to get a paternity test.  Naughtiness continues to elude me at Shri Shikshayatan School; I never see it, yet according to my fellow educators, the girls are flaunting it all up and down the corridors.  And for shame, they sometimes unleash their naughtiness on ME, a guest teacher at their school!

Recently, while rotating around a tightly packed classroom of 52 children, I stop at one table to answer a student’s question.  For the most part, the students are working quietly and much of the pockets of muted chatter I hear is about the assignment itself so I don’t bother chastising the girls for talking.  In the USA, many teachers overlook the “be quiet” rule when MOST of the talking is the result of students actively engaging in their work, even helping each other understand the work better.  Teachers are aware that some of the students are probably not actually engaged in their work, but are more likely engaged in discussing who was kicked off American Idol.  We ignore this reality, filing it under the “You can’t fight every battle” category.

Apparently, every battle is fought at Shri Shikshayatan School. 

The teacher whose class I am taking over on this day suddenly yells across the room, “Rashi!  Rashi Gupta, are you over there engaging in personal conversation right now?!”  Rashi has hardly begun the quintessential kid back tracking, when the teacher shuts her down: “Do not give a feeble excuse for your naughtiness.  Stop it right now and get back to your work as Ma’am instructed!” When the class is over, the teacher and I walk back to the staff lounge together.

“The class was so naughty today, no?”  She sighs and looks apologetically at me.

I have no idea what was naughty about any of the students’ behavior.  When she yelled at Rashi, I had instinctively adhered to the universal rule among teachers: Do not allow the children to divide and conquer.  So, I had followed her harsh chastisement of Rashi with a stern look in the girl’s direction and an added, “Get back to your work.”

There were other kids beside Rashi who were also naughty?  What were these children doing exactly?  And how had I missed it?

Because I want to require the same behavior from the students as their long term teachers, I spend the next few days searching diligently for naughty behavior.   Waiting for it to leap out of the girls who stand up whenever I walk into a room and greet me with: “Good Morning, Ma’am!”

When I am walking around the building, I try to be inconspicuous as I linger around classrooms, waiting.  Patiently waiting for the students whose eyes are locked on their teachers to do something naughty.  I wonder if their raised hands and enthusiastic pleas of, “Ma’am, call on me, Ma’am!” will transform to, “Miss, I told you I don’t know the answer, dang!” I want to see this happen so I can reprimand them for being so terribly, terribly naughty.

The only time I take a break from my naughtiness search is when I am at morning assembly.  Three days out of the week, all 4000 of the students at Shikshayatan are required to report to the school’s courtyard and line up by classes and grades.  The assemblies begin with the students singing and praying followed by standard school announcements and sometimes, a student speaker.  I love morning assemblies because I have found the prayer and singing very calming ways to begin a long, humid day inside the cavernous pressure cooker that is the school building.

Here, the girls seem to be at their best.  It is early in the morning and they haven’t had their first class yet.  Their mind is fresh and there have been no conflicts among friends, no chastisements from teachers to put students in a less than well-behaved mood.  Surely, morning assembly HAS to be a naughty-free zone?

And it is for the most part.  Mrs. Ganguly (“Principal Ma’am” to the kids and just plain ole “Ma’am” to the adults) normally only waits for a few seconds in order for the girls to get completely silent.  Occasionally, she has to scold them because it takes them much too long to completely stop talking and look directly at her.  But, on most days things run rather smoothly.

Except for the day when the entire 12th grade was being naughty and got themselves kicked off the courtyard. 

It happens right under my nose (AGAIN!!!).  I am standing on the same side of the courtyard as the seniors and am nonchalantly staring at the stage as Principal Ma’am demands: “Girls, it is already 9:25 and some of you are just getting to the assembly.”  I hear Principal Ma’am call for silence.  I hear Principal Ma’am call for silence again, making it known to all present that she should not have had to call for silence twice.  I hear Principal Ma’am call for the shuffling around to cease.  All routines that even I, after only a few short weeks here at the school, have come to anticipate before they even happen.

Then, all of sudden, Principal Ma’am is yelling at the seniors. “Class 12, what is wrong with you?  This behavior is unacceptable.”  My eyes shoot to the senior class and I look for it.  This sneaky naughtiness in action.  All I see is a large group of students doing what large groups of students normally do.  Some are shifting in their place.  A few are whispering to one another.  Most are just staring blankly at Principal Ma’am, waiting in that indifferent way that teenagers who are in their last year of high school often wait.  There are at least 300 of them.  As a group, they do not seem to be disruptive.  Is it possible that Principal Ma’am actually CAN see the six who are rolling their eyes?  The three who are mumbling under their breathe?  The girl in the corner giggling as she pokes out her tongue at a friend several lines away?

It doesn’t matter what I can or can not see.  Ma’am sees it all.  “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” she continues.  “Our senior most class ruining the mood of assembly this way.”  I think this is the end of her scolding, but: “Leave the courtyard, now.  You do not deserve to be here.”

Like magic, 3oo eigtheen year old women do an about face and march from the courtyard in near perfect sync.  As they leave, Principal Ma’am orders the other students to keep their eyes forward. “Do not look at the senior class as they exit. They have been shameful.  They do not need more attention.”

I abandon my search for more naughtiness.  I transfer my energy into being certain that I am not being naughty.  Until I have memorized and am able to recite the Shikshayatan definition  of naughtiness, I am going to play it safe and be extra, extra behaved.  I do not know if teachers can get kicked out of assembly as well.

So….

When Principal Ma’am instructs, “Stop shuffling,” I stand up straight and tall.

When Principal Ma’am instructs, “Now fold your hands for prayer,” I squeeze my eyes shut and put my hands into prayer position.

“Now, bow your head.”

I do as I am told.

When the students begin their morning song/prayer, I sway to the music coming from the stage.  I smile as the girls chant in harmony to Saraswati, the Goddess of Knowledge, asking her to guide them through their day of learning. 

I pray for Saraswati to make me smarter.  Able to figure out what the seniors did and what Rashi did.  I only have about two more weeks left at Shikshayatan, but I must leave having identified naughtiness and properly reprimanding the offender for it.  There is a different definition here. I want to learn it.  Teach it to others.