A Master Class by a Voice Guru

I didn't post anything on my blog in May, not because I didn't do any writing but because I was waiting for my writing to be published. Here is the link to my first piece, a review of Find Your Voice: A Definitive Guide for Stage Actors and Voice Professionals by P.C. Ramakrishna in The Book Review, 46(6).

Audiobooks and dubbing films for regional audiences in India are opening up a whole new market for people whose vocal cords are their raison d’etre. P.C. Ramakrishna’s book Find Your Voice: A Definitive Guide for Stage Actors and Voice Professionals could not have come at a better time for Voice artistes. The first of its kind in India, the book is an excellent mixture of the theory of Voice and how to cultivate and preserve it, as well nuggets on the features of the field of Voice. There are two distinct sections to the book. The first three-quarters of the book explicates the theory and practice of Voice production for primary stakeholders: stage actors, voiceover artistes, singers, animation voicers, radio jockeys and public speakers. Ramakrishna recognizes the differing needs of each of these professionals with regard to usage of vocal cords and production of sounds. For instance, voice projection for stage actors as against voice modulation for voiceover artistes. Every chapter has a wealth of exercises and relevant materials for each kind of voice professional. The last quarter of the book consolidates and expands these best practices and exercises for a cohesive approach to voice training. The practice material of words, sentences and dialogues in each chapter are classically relevant and appropriate, even if younger artistes may consider them dated.

He brings to the book the same deceptive casualness and insouciance that has been a feature of his Voice career. Adopting a conversational tone, he uses the pronoun ‘you’ rather than ‘s/he’ to address the reader but this apparent breeziness is belied by the specificity of his instructions such as the placement of a mike for clarity.

‘Voice Artiste’, the first chapter on the physics of voice is an anatomy lesson, describing the parts of our body involved in the production of speech. ‘Voice and the Actor on Stage’ lays out concepts of volume and throw. It is also a primer on phonetic features of sibilants, plosives and end consonants that contribute to clarity. All three concepts add up to audibility. ‘The Chemistry of Voice’ focuses on ‘colouring’ the Voice, adding emotion to it, for example on tone and sounds like shouting, screaming, wailing and laughing that convey feelings. Chapter 4 ‘Voiceover Artiste’ provides an overview of different sub-genres in voiceovers – newscaster, human interest story, the medicine industry, tourism, nature documentaries, children’s stories, ads, son et lumiere  - that target different emotions in viewers/listeners. For example, awe and wonder for nature documentaries, husky ‘come hither’ for perfume, and friendly and expressive for children. Two short chapters are devoted voicing animated films and a radio jockey, including crafting an interesting spiel for an RJ.

‘Singing Voice’ addresses subgenres such as the Carnatic or Hindustani vocalist, singing for classical dances and the choral voice. The explanations of chest and head voices for singers, the natural pitch classification in Western music, and the preferred range of two and a half octaves a singer should cultivate, are comprehensible even to a novice of music. ‘Stage Spaces and the Actor’s Voice’ is a practical extension of Chapter 2; Ramakrishna focuses on helping actors gauge voice throw and range required by different kinds of stages.

Training the Voice: Chapters 10 to 14 – ‘Nurture That Voice’, ‘Exercises’, ‘Do Workshops “Work”?’, ‘And… Here Come the “Spoilers”’, ‘Find Your Voice’ - unequivocally constitute a how-to section. Pulling together and extending tips, suggestions, processes and exercises, it is a time saver for professionals who can build a voice routine without wading through multiple chapters. Two chapters are devoted to nurturing and exercising the voice. Ramakrishna warns against Voice workshops not connected to a theatre space or a recording studio; don’t waste your time and money. The final chapter slips in an observation about learning from listening to other interlocutors, a skill which deserves more attention. Ramakrishna states explicitly, and often, that complete, thorough, detailed preparation is key to success, an idea promoted by every resource person. He then provides a roadated map specific to Voice artistes: read and reread the script; visualize the scene; identify the overall emotion and any varying emotions through the piece; check spellings; mark pauses, breath and intonation. Then … Practice pronunciation. Practice modulation. Practice breathing. Practice, practice, practice.

 Miscues: Two chapters do not fit smoothly into the theme of the book. ‘The Public Speaker’ expands the mnemonics ABCDEF of a good public speech rather than Voice features of an orator, a motivational speaker or a storyteller. ‘And Here … Come the “Spoilers”’, while interesting, is more directly related to acting and performing plays than to Voice.

Ramakrishna has overlooked another profession where voice is used every day and continually – teaching. Given the cacophonous ambient noises most teachers contend with, and that 90% of time in a classroom is teacher talk, it is not surprising that teachers constitute the bulk of an ENT specialist’s patients list. Learning not to rely on volume but to throw their voice to 60 students in less than ideal settings would be invaluable for teachers.

PC Ramakrishna knows whereof he speaks. He found his Voice and has capitalized on it for 50 years. An ‘early adopter’ in many fields related to Voice - actor with the oldest English theatre group in India; bass singer in the oldest Indian language choir; newscaster on Doordarshan Chennai - he is still the most sought after commentator for heritage and corporate films in India. He brings to the book the same deceptive casualness and insouciance that has been a feature of his Voice career. Adopting a conversational tone, he uses the pronoun ‘you’ rather than ‘s/he’ to address the reader but this apparent breeziness is belied by the specificity of his instructions such as the placement of a mike for clarity. The level of detail and the examples and exercises he provides make clear the kind of hard, sustained work necessary to maintain the high level of professionalism he has achieved in this field. An eminently readable and useful book gains in authenticity because of the personal experience and expertise the author brings to the subject.

The first of its kind in India, the book is an excellent mixture of the theory of Voice and how to cultivate and preserve it, as well nuggets on the features of the field of Voice. There are two distinct sections to the book. The first three-quarters of the book explicates the theory and practice of Voice production for primary stakeholders: stage actors, voiceover artistes, singers, animation voicers, radio jockeys and public speakers. Ramakrishna recognizes the differing needs of each of these professionals with regard to usage of vocal cords and production of sounds.

THE PHYSICAL CONTEXT OF SCHOOLS: AMBIENCE

Looks familiar? Like your classroom in school? Except that this was 100 years ago. The one institution that has not changed physically in 100 years is, you’ve got it, schools. After two punishing years of lockdowns, how unlikely is it that they are going to look any different even as we blithely consider cutting back on the curriculum or spout off about technology in classrooms? 

There has been much discussion in Indian education circles about how the pandemic has affected schooling. Research studies have documented many struggles: inequality of technology access, student drop out, ‘learning loss,’ curtailed curriculum, and teachers managing students rather than teaching.

Now with schools reopening everything is back to ‘normal’ but what is the ‘new normal’ for teachers? They have been irrevocably changed by experiences of the past two years which have been a strange mixture of comfort and inconvenience, of familiarity and strangeness. How will they fit back into school buildings that have remained static?

Pandemic-while

During the pandemic, for close on two years teachers were forced to mix personal and professional settings creating modern ‘one room schools.’ This sudden change in physical context made for conditions of working and living inconvenient and comfortable simultaneously.

Like most of us who live in flats, teachers’ houses are not large enough for a dedicated room per member of the family. When a private place could be spared to work in comparative solitude, patriarchy determined that menfolk had first rights so that the husband or son in the family closed the door to the room and left the womenfolk and children to share common areas.

Various shared spaces perforce functioned as ‘multiple classrooms,’ whether it was the drawing room, a bedroom or the kitchen table. They had to be frequently rearranged to accommodate ‘school’ and ‘home’ functions. Dining tables had to be cleared every morning for laptops which in turn had to cleared off at mealtimes. Beds had to be remade several times after constant use. These arrangements naturally were very inconvenient and upsetting for the entire family.

Most schools avoid placing children in their parents’ classroom to circumvent accusations of favoritism. Teacher-parents were reminded of how welcome this unwritten rule is! In close proximity at school-home, instances of irony abounded. Teacher-parents had to tune out a colleague’s professional practices, hoping the Golden Rule[1] would apply to them, too. They could hear their child’s teacher echo their own calls for attention. They watched helplessly as their own children, just like their students, muted their audio and turned off their video to watch TV. They heard their children offer a familiar, specious complaint - ‘My internet is not working, Miss.’

A brighter side to this was that teachers were in their own homes, in familiar surroundings, on familiar territory which, to a large extent, they could negotiate to suit themselves. Even called on more often than was convenient to serve tea or clean up after a meal, they were conscious of the convenience factor of being in their own homes, in a place of comparative physical comfort brought on by familiarity. They could regulate the ambient ventilation, lighting and noise. They sat at ease under their own fans or in air-conditioned comfort. They closed windows when the noise from neighbours became too loud.

Though these convenience factors may outweigh the crowd factor for short spells, they could not for the interminable two years that Covid-19 sanctioned. It is not surprising that teachers were raring to get out their houses and back into school buildings.

Post-Pandemic

With schools in full swing again, teachers are back in a very familiar mode. They are back in the whirl of school assembly and bell to bell periods, and hurried lunches and even shorter tea breaks. Students are in one room, under their eagle eye, unable to remain unseen, anonymous or absent. Life is back on track. Phew!

But do they see schools as the Garden of Eden before the fall?

Furnishing classrooms

The most depressing thing about schools is their physical set up, how they are furnished and maintained. Rooms are usually packed tight and the narrow aisles are most inconvenient. In fact, unless the teachers are as thin as walkway models, they can scarcely get to the back of the room.

The quality of student furniture leaves a lot to be desired. Gouges and scratches bear witness to the boredom of generations who have graced the building, and quickly descend into a state of dilapidation. They are not regularly painted or varnished and are not replaced until they become unsafe.

Teachers’ chairs, if they are provided one at all, are hardbacked with even harder seats that are murder on their backs and bums. A definite disincentive to rest tired legs.

The poor ambience of the classrooms is exacerbated by the fact that teachers have little to no say in the location or arrangement of their classrooms. Why then would they have a stake in it and take ownership of the state of the room?

 

Ventilation

Classrooms are hot and not well-ventilated. Schools have little choice in the placement of their buildings, especially in overcrowded cities. So while homes may run north-south to let in air but not direct sun, classrooms windows, where they open to the outside, are perfectly positioned to trap the heat of the day, which is multiplied by forty warm bodies.

A majority of the classrooms are equipped with at least fans, if not air-conditioning. Though it must be acknowledged the intermittent, unreliable electricity flow make these fittings moot. Further, teachers are discouraged from switching them on to conserve on utility bills. End result is that classrooms are sweatpits.

Is it any wonder that by the end of the day the fetid atmosphere in the classroom makes teaching or learning untenable?

 

What can school do?

No, I am not advocating for existing schools to be torn down and rebuilt, though most of them beg for it, let’s be honest. Even within the existing infrastructure, life can be made a little less unpleasant physically for teachers.

1.       Encourage teachers to rearrange furniture to serve their pedagogy. If they can turn chairs around, or pile up desks and chairs against the wall, they may use interactive activities rather than lecture.

2.       Require teachers to switch on the fan in every classroom and leave them on through the day. Even when students are not in the room, the fans will sweep out the stuffiness and swelter.

3.       Equip windows with wooden blinds or shutters that can be closed against direct sunlight. They will be less expensive and require less maintenance than curtains.

4.       Invest in and maintain generators for the entire school, not just the administrator block or IT labs. Regular sources of power should be considered as essential as furniture.

Then may be the school building will be the teachers’ workplace of choice, and not just an escape from overcrowding at home!

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[1] Do to others as you would have them do to you. Luke 6:31

T&L Music and Language: I Perform, So I Should Be

Teachers are often likened to actors, they are said to ‘perform’ in front of students in their classes, which is a contentious statement when we examine their belief systems. (Another topic for another post.)

Arts and language teachers can ‘perform’ their content. Music is undoubtedly a performance art, with a public stage and an audience preset in its framework. Music teachers have opportunities to listen to and perform their content outside of the professional development sessions offered by their schools. Both TV and the AIR broadcast classical music programs. Music festivals are not uncommon in most cities; every temple in Chennai seems to celebrate every festival with Carnatic music. It is not an onerous exercise, either, for music teachers to gather with other like-minded professional and amateur musicians for an evening of music, one that doesn't require the elaborate preparation of a theatrical production.

And what about those who learn music but don’t take it up professionally? We are relegated to the category of singers, players or scholars of music, whether we perform in the bathroom or to select audiences composed of indulgent friends and family. (Shades of golu evenings? 😊)

Language teachers, by and large, don't engage with their content, the language or literature, once they leave their workplace. Of course, most may converse in English but much of their speaking is a mixture of the regional language and English with frequent  code switching, Tanglish, Hinglish or such like.

Listening to English? Yes, if we watch serials or movies in English. Many teachers’ homes may have a subscription to Netflix or Amazon Prime. But like the teachers said (see T&L Music and Language- I Teach, So I Am), most of them are too busy with household or family tasks in the evenings to consistently make time to listen to English-based programs. English theatre in most cities is non-existent or confined to an elite audience which does not include teachers of English for sure!

Reading? Most are not voracious readers, a few may claim to be readers of potboilers, newspapers or magazines. How many buy books regularly? How many of them have bookshelves at home that are in constant use? How many can name prize winning novelists or poets of the past ten years? Or have read their works?

As for writing, don’t even go there. Very few, if any at all, indulge in writing beyond official or personal communication. A very few, a handful, may be invited by private publishing companies or the states to author books or be part of a curriculum/book writing group.

Other writings that reach the public spaces? More likely to be authored by regional language teachers. However, schools rarely, if ever, acknowledge or showcase their writings at public or school-wide events. Perhaps the greatest extent of it when they author the plays presented at school annual days and write out scripts for the student emcees, though many of these are now written by students themselves. It is not surprising that most colleagues and students remain unaware of the ‘performance’ aspect of their language teachers.

I have been fortunate to have known three of them at P.S. Senior Secondary School, Chennai.  Vasanthakumari writes poetry in Tamil and often presents it on occasions such as an alumni meet of her school. Bhagavathy is more involved publicly with her writing. Her work is published and she is involved with the Tamil writers’ communities and events in Chennai.

P. Geeta, the Hindi teacher, wrote short stories, poems and essays. The first time I read any of it was a book her children published privately just before her death a few months ago. They assembled her writings from years ago and pieces she wrote while facing death from cancer with remarkable calmness and fortitude. 

So how can language teachers, who are not gifted writers, engage with their content outside school? With a little planning, and a lot of willingness.

• Play parlour games like charades or word building or board games like Scrabble in their homes or at dinner parties. This requires neither major preparation nor additional space. Yet this rarely happens. Perhaps because it smacks too much of organising activities in a classroom?
• Read books for free at Bookmark openlibrary.org and at Gutenberg.org.
• Know where the closest lending library is and patronize it.
• Carve out a tiny bit in the house budget for books, it is a legitimate professional expense re taxes. Bookmark Amazon.in or flipkart.com. And buy books, for your children’s birthdays and all festivals. Buy books for your friends’ children’s birthdays and all festivals. And read every one of them before gifting it.
• Set time aside every week to watch programmes in English. Watch Queen in English rather Tamil, perhaps. Follow (maybe not binge watch) English language serials at online sites.

Happy watching! Even happier reading!!

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By Mrs. Vasanthakumari Manoharan (December 2019)

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Excerpts from P. Geeta. (2019). The Little Book for Love & Gratitude

T&L Music&Language: I Teach, So I Am

A Subject teacher complained vociferously about Arts teachers at a meeting.

“They don't know history, philosophy or pedagogy of education, “ she said. “we can't talk to them about anything related to our classroom or students. All day long they sing or sit around listening to songs.  They don't do anything. ”

There was a profound, deadly, uncomfortable silence. The forty or so Subject teachers looked down at the floor with small, uneasy smiles. They obviously agreed with the statement but didn't want to be associated with voicing it.

The much fewer Arts teachers looked around timidly. Except one male teacher. He gazed off into the distance as though he was not in the room, not at all concerned with the proceedings.

The facilitator let the moment sit and made no attempt to move the discussion in any direction.

After almost three minutes, the male Music teacher stood up.

“What do you do when you go home after school?” he asked the room in general.

“We have so much work,” the initial complainant said indignantly. “We cook, look after the family, we clean, we visit family and friends. There is so much work at home,”

“When I go home, I do what I do in school, “ said the male Music teacher simply. 

And sat down quietly.

Another silence reigned, another profound, deadly, uncomfortable silence. 

But he had made his point. 

And everyone knew it.

True, true, I grant you freely. A Female Music teacher may not claim so blithely to spend her afterschool time on music. She would probably recognize the responsibilities and activities her colleague listed!

But considering the point the Male Music teacher made, how do teachers spend their non-classroom time on their own learning? Continuous Professional Development is a mandated and recognized activity for teachers in schools. However, there are severe limitations to these programs which focus on learning to teach, traditionally focusing on updating subject content of what to teach and increasingly on pedagogy of how to teach. This is aimed at the teacher practitioner who functions in a classroom where the focus is on teaching students.

What about the performance aspect to Arts and Language teachers, which is hardly addressed? In what ways are teachers performers? What are the forums and stages available to them? How well and how much do they access these spaces?

Bear with me;

… I must pause till it come back to me.

(Can you place this quote, and complete it – without googling it?)

T&L Music and Language - Here, There... Where?

Upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber...

The contexts in which private music classes for beginners are held and a school classroom are surprisingly similar in certain ways.

Anyone who has studied in an Indian school is familiar with how classrooms look and classes function. With no change over 60 years that I remember. (That dates me, eh?) About 40 students at least squashed into a room meant for half that number. Desks in straight rows, facing up front. The aisles too narrow for an average teacher to walk to the back of the class. Or for students from Row 3 to approach the teacher. So any movement is confined to the teacher oscillating in the narrow strip of space between the board and Row 1. So students through the day see a succession of teachers and the uninformative backs of their classmates' heads. The room is bare with no charts or posters on the walls.

More progressive schools may have round tables with chairs in the kindergarten and perhaps even in Grades 1 and 2. But by upper elementary the teacher is expected to be the focus of all students’ attention and we are back to serried states of desks and chairs. Some teachers may put up student work on the walls but most have artistic work done by teachers. Still, some colour in the room to feed the aesthetics of students.

What do music classes look like? In my salad days, the music teacher came home. The classes were one-on-one and were held in a secluded room just off the main part of the house. Both teacher and student sat on the floor with the harmonium between them. I remember my first teacher Soundaram mami easily able to lean over to keep rhythm on my thigh quite forcefully. No frills, at least no more than the room always did. My grandmother always kept an ear open to the doings in the class though she did not sit in on the class.

Much has changed since then. No more individual classes. By and large, they are small group classes of 3 to 10. Students assemble in the teacher’s house. It is usually crowded with little wiggle room. Students usually still sit on the floor. 
The teacher may or may not, depending their age and physical limberness. There is still not much to indicate that this a room devoted to music. Maybe a thamboora in a corner. No bookshelves with music books or pictures of musicians and composers. Parents who hang around waiting to collect their child are discouraged from sitting in on the class but urged to socialise in another room.  

So two or three times a week students essentially go after 6 hours in a regimented, unaesthetic environment of their classroom to another closed, confined room for 30 to 45 minutes, which may be more homely. Getting to look more and more a regular classroom, isn't it?

Music teachers moan that fewer young people are interested in classical music, that they have neither the patience nor the time to invest in learning it. Well, if it is an extension of school, why would students be enthused about it?

Private music teachers are also heard to chastise children with, ‘Would you behave like this in school?’

No, probably not.

But why would you want children to relate back to school, where they have just spent 6 hours, and are longing for something different? And being one of 40 in a larger group of 2000 to 5000 is not what a child would want to repeat through the evenings or weekends.

So how can music classes look and feel differently from school? More like music and less like English or Hindi? Remember that music classes are not school classes, I guess. Music is primarily an aesthetic experience. Cater to it. Allow students to express themselves freely.

Dress! In a music class, we can see children dressed in anything from shorts to flowing skirts to pavadais. It adds colour and vibrance to the room, and it will change the mood of the child. A far cry from the constricting and unimaginative uniforms prescribed by most schools. If anything, discourage children from wearing their school uniforms to music class. A young friend recounts a tale of an established and very well-respected teacher who threw him out of her class because he showed up in shorts. I understand the respect for tradition but can we focus on the joy that music should bring?

Brighten up the room with pictures of musicians and composers, easily available in calendars and flyers, and on the web.

Encourage students to socialize before and after class. Forming friendships will keep children attending music classes long after the pull of the art has faded away.

Schools are institutions with a specific role in the larger society. Private music classes do not have to seek to replicate that purpose or process to justify their existence. Children need different learning contexts, not the same ones twice over…. Hmm, need to explore this more in another post.

Image: https://musicacademymadras.in/academics/part-time-classes/

T&L Music and Language - Music, Language and Me

Meri aukat kya hai? What is my arugadai? How am I qualified to write about teaching and learning, both music and language? A fair question.

The latter is easy to establish. I have taught English and education  for over 40 years in four countries across three continents. I have published and edited about 85 books, chapters and articles, made 120 presentations, and conducted over 50 workshops for teachers. Most recently, I edited an English language textbook series, and co-authored 20 of the 32 books, published by Indiannica Learning. Google me if you want to test the veracity of my claims. Go on, feed my ego😑

My musical experience is both by heritage and as a student. I grew up in a family of dyed-in-the-wool Carnatic musicians. I grew up waking to and going to sleep with music, and dissections and analyses of music and concerts in the inbetween hours. 

My grandfather T.V. Rajagopal was a scholar of music and served as a Secretary of the prestigious Madras Music Academy and its music college for decades. My grandmother Rukmini Rajagopal and various aunts and cousins in the immediate and extended families were, and are, well-respected performers as well as A grade AIR artistes. Both my grandmother and my mother Indira Ramanathan taught music formally for 35 years of their lives. In fact, my grandmother was awarded the prestigious Sangeeta Kala Acharya award by the aforementioned prestigious Madras Music Academy. No, I am not mocking the MMA (well, may be just a tiny bit) but more seeking to establish the distinction of my musical heritage. I am not claiming any special cachet for this heritage but the cultural capital it bestows on me is considerable and I am merely acknowledging the reality of it. And the impact of cultural capital is incontrovertible as much as it is unrecognized.

As for my personal experience with music, like most South Indian brahmins girls, I had music classes ‘inflicted’ on me from the age of 4 or 5. I formally studied music under four different teachers in the early years. In my adulthood I saw the value of music and studied a few years with my grandmother and two years with the illustrious M.L.Vasanthakumari. I am a regular attendee of the music season in Chennai,  and have been  for 40 years, since I was a child, with a hiatus of about 20 years.

Music is in my blood. I love it. I am an enthusiast. I respond to it viscerally. I choose different kinds to mediate and influence my moods.

But I am not in any way, shape or form an expert, not even close. I cannot and will not identify ragas or match composers and compositions. I am flummoxed by complicated calculations and rhythms of talas. I refuse to dissect and analyse concerts. I have perfected the art of forgetting the contents of a concert the minute I walk out of the auditorium.

So for my comments and descriptions of music pedagogy I will rely on my own expertise of the art and science of teaching and learning. I will also call upon my extensive and continuing conversations and dialogues with teachers and students of Carnatic music.

If you feel I am overstepping my bounds, feel free to point it as gently or forcefully as you like . I promise not to block you - unless you overstep bounds of decency!

Oh, and the three links (hold down the text in green):
- A speech by my grandfather
- A viruttam by my grandmother
- A blog about my grandmother by her student, Sanjay Subrahmanyan

Teaching and Learning (T&L): The Arts and the Languages

In April of this year, CBSE, the most influential examination board in India, released a handbook in support of its effort to promote Arts Integrated Learning. An approach after my own heart, it has been in the forefront of my mind.
 One of the underlying requirements  for Arts Integrated Learning to succeed is team work. Subject teachers and Arts teachers (to distinguish between the two, not that the Arts are not subjects, too) will have to communicate with each other. As of now, though they may be on the rolls of the same schools,  these two categories of teachers inhabit two different universes. While Arts teachers may have some experience of how Subject teachers acquired their content knowledge, most Subject teacher have never learnt the Arts formally and may be unaware of the context, condition, content and pedagogical implications of an Arts education. If they don't know where each of them is coming from,  how can they build trust or respect? Understanding how the Arts are learnt by Arts teachers will expand the horizons of pedagogical practices in schools.
This gap in information needs to be filled. To do this, effectively,  as a teacher Educator I need to understand the learning experience of Arts teachers better.
I'm beginning with music.
Why music?
Music is said to be a language that cuts across languages. Sounds like a conundrum but I am sure all of you know what that means. That music is expressive, communicates thoughts and emotions. It is an art, like language, highly personal, and elicits subjective responses. Its grammar 😱 is very complicated which takes years to master. People use musical language with varying levels of expertise in it. And yet it draws people together and builds communities of performers, audiences and administrators.
Also, ‘tis the season of good cheer. And lots and lots of music. It is December and the music season is on in Chennai. For four weeks about 50 sabhas organize about 1500 concerts by over 600 musicians and dancers. So I will be immersed in all things music. South Indian classical Carnatic music. I will listen, listen again and listen some more. I will also haunt the canteens and gorge food that makes my NRI friends sigh nostalgically.
And as I sit in the hall with waves of music washing over me, I think. I think about who the musicians are, where they learn and who from and  their musical lineage. I wonder about how the teachers teach, the context in which they teach, the content, the pedagogy. How is music actually taught? What is the most common pedagogy of music? How does it differ between teaching novices and more advanced students? How much and in what ways do music teachers consider the psychological and developmental profiles of their students? And I think about what this means for education in schools as we know it.
Thinking about all this leads me naturally to write about it. Not with the rigor and social science-y writing I am accustomed to.  But to resurrect my moribund blog. Blog a series of short articles on different articles every three or four days.
The scope of the series will focus on South Indian Carnatic music and novice learners. The topics will range from the contexts of private music class, content, description of learners and pedagogical approaches. Each post will also compare teaching and learning music to English in schools.
Feel free to point out misconceptions, highlight concepts and ideas I have glossed over and add your perspectives and experiences. And feel free to share on social media and with friends. I look forward to moments of clarification and instances of deep learning from this process.

IT’S TEACHERS DAY (not Coach/Guide/Mentor day)

Sept. 5 – Teachers Day in India – is about teaching, not about learning. It is the one day that should be dedicated to Teachers, not to learners. It should be a recognition of what teachers do for 30 years of their lives, five or six days of the week. It should be an acknowledgement of what it takes to be a teacher with a class of 30 students or thereabouts, on a conservative average.

That day should be dedicated not to learners from but to those who teach us whether we want to learn or not. We may learn from all guides, mentors and coaches - but they are not Teachers. All teachers may be coaches, guides and mentors (CGM) but the reverse is not true.

Is there really a difference? You bet there is!

Context: Teachers work in the formal sector, in institutions called students and colleges which are strictly regulated and accountable to various stakeholders. CGM work in non-formal sectors. Schools are public service institutions, regularly inspected by boards of education, often written about in the press, and open to being challenged by parents and the public. Contrarily, coaching classes may be structured and run like clockwork but they make up their own rules and set their own standards, accountable to no one except their own internal administration. If parents complained about them, the wards (to distinguish them from their role as students) would be shown the door! Guides and mentors, of course, function in the personal space, where formality of any kind is absent.

Professionalism: Teachers are professionals, unlike guides and mentors. They are appointed based on formal credentials, which may be true of some coaches. Teachers qualify themselves through formal teacher education programs, passing exams, having pieces of paper that guarantee that they have the requisite education. On the other hand, CGM’s credibility is based on their experiences. They must have played their sport at competitive levels and have name-recognition, or served in positions of note in relevant organizations. Vastly different professional profiles, right?

Selectivity: Schools may have entrance exams and interviews for students and parents. But once they are given admission, teachers don’t have a choice of who they will have in their classrooms. The rosters are made for them and they have to deal with the numbers and personalities in their classes. The matching of CGM to their wards, on the other hand, is usually a choice made by both. Mentors especially have a choice of who they will and will not mentor. The what, how and when of CGM-mentee meetings is usually defined by the CGM, perhaps in consultation with the mentees while teachers increasingly have little control over the curriculum, content and pedagogy. Mentors may decide to take a walk along the beach with their mentee on a fine day; teachers have to fill out multiple forms in triplicate days and weeks in advance for a field trip, if such a thing is ever part of the curriculum.

Expectations: Students, parents, and the society at large, have high (sometimes unrealistic?) expectations of teachers. Teachers are then held accountable for their own and their students’ performances. When these benchmarks are not met, all the stakeholders feel free to air their disappointment and anger in public, loudly and clearly. Teachers are not allowed to have reciprocal expectations of parents, and cannot expect parents to take a child to a museum or ensuring that the child is adequately nourished. On the contrary, when a child does not win a tennis tournament, the coach is not blamed but is paid more to offer more intensive, individualized sessions. Mentors and guides, of course, are exempt from any accountability since they do it out of the goodness of their hearts!

Motivation: All of the above have a huge impact on the motivation of wards and students. Wards are in the coaching and training program or mentoring relationship because they choose to be. The topic is of interest to them and they trust the CGM. Students, on the other hand, attend school because they are forced to and study subjects they have no interest in. Motivation is thus built into CGM interactions while teachers have to swim against the tide of student disinterest and begin with a built-in disadvantage. Further, guides and mentors function in a one-on-one setting where building trust and confidence is much easier and less stressful, while a teacher has 25 to 90 students. Not quite an even playing field, is it?

What does any of this have to do with Teachers Day in India? We learn from many people, at different points in our lives. By all means, respect and honour your coach, guide and mentor. But on Sept. 5 could you honour your teachers, and only your teachers, and not conflate them with your coach, guide or mentor? One day, just that one day, let teachers be remembered for who they are and what they do, not who we are and how we learn. Maybe then we will begin to understand and respect how much we expect of teachers, and value what they truly being to our lives.

Private Enterprise in Public Education: Cautionary Tales from the U.S.

Invited presentation at Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi, India, July 13, 2015. 

Video posted at  http://cprindia.org/events/4511

Handout at https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B7uT6saUYAa_MzJIY2R1clRzd0k/view?usp=sharing

Abstract 

Private entities are a major player in the educational field in the US and have an increasingly high profile in India. They are closely involved in managing and running schools, and providing infrastructure, classroom materials and teacher training. Publishing companies in the U.S. have an inordinate influence over the enacted curriculum and teacher education while a non-profit is changing the face of the teaching force.

This paper will describe the impact of private entities on teacher education and the profession of teaching, illustrating with Pearson and Teach for America. The applications of these impacts to the Indian context will be discussed.

What a Movie Teaches Teachers: Kuttram Kadithal and Corporal Punishment

Ordinary and Realistic – Two attributes of Kuttram Kadithal that set it apart from recent films that addresses important educational issues, and I am not discounting Dhoni and Taare Zameen Par. In Kuttram Kadithal, a teacher casually slaps a Grade 5 student for misbehaving and acting cocky. The student falls down unconscious and is rushed to a hospital. The movie details what happens in the next 24 hours. Mind you, corporal punishment has been explicitly made illegal by the Right to Education Act.

The sheer ordinariness of Kuttram Kadithal

In the genre of realistic cinema that shows routine ordinariness of life, Kuttram Kadithal establishes early on that this is just another day in the life of the teacher, except for a few minor things. She has trouble getting her husband out of bed and ready for work. She was married only three days ago, and it is her first day back at school. A teacher skips the last period to go to a movie with her husband and asks the protagonist to substitute for her, commenting wryly on the high spirits of the class without denigrading them. Even the moralizing speech, an essential ingredient in Indian movies, is confined to a couple of minutes in the end when the teacher ‘fesses up and declares that while her action may not have precipitated the crisis, she did not treat the student with love and dignity, as she would her own child.

The student at the centre of the storm in Kuttram Kadidhal is perfectly ordinary with no features that would make him an instantly sympathetic character or a teacher’s pet. He is not brilliant at cricket or painting but is endearingly mischievous and the apple of his poor mother’s eye. He has an eye for girls but is not cute or handsome. He kisses a birthday girl on her cheek and then cheeks the teacher when she calls on him to apologize, both developmentally recognizable behaviours in a Std. 5 student. In this flow of naturalness, it seems to be the natural reaction of the teacher to give the boy a quick, hard slap. The resulting series of actions seem to flow along with the natural order of things, contrasting sharply with the intensity of emotions.

However, education has not enjoyed naturalism in movies till very recently. Schools and teachers have usually been demonized for the most part as caricatures with glasses and a tight bun or stereotypes who ineffectively yell at students. Even in a movie as well made as Taare Zameen Par, watching the scene in the staffroom without subtitles, my students in the US were able to pick out the stereotype each teacher represented.

Kuttram Kadithal is not without its moments of melodrama: The teacher’s inter-religious marriage establishes her open-mindedness but she fiercely washes away the bindi in an emotional outburst. The principal’s personal loss of a daughter in an accident gives him moral authority in his claim that he would do the best for the student. At the meeting with the shocked mother, the teacher wails uncontrollably, and then keels over dramatically. (No, she doesn’t die to give the student life; she merely faints from emotional exhaustion).

Realistic response to corporal punishment

However, the central educational question of corporal punishment in schools is not made dramatic but is dealt with matter-of-factly and in a low key. The movie raises practically all relevant questions: What are the courses of action available to a school when a teacher uses corporal punishment on a student? What should be done when a student is hurt? What effect does administering corporal punishment, especially if it precipitates a crisis, have on the teacher and on the student audience? What kind and level of support can the teacher, students and parents expect from the school in such a crisis? What responsibility do teachers have to their students in the name of discipline?

Many of the procedural suggestions offered as the action unfolds are probably in place in most schools.

• ·       Have a connection with a hospital and doctor close by for emergencies.
• ·       Take the child to the hospital immediately with a teacher in attendance.
• ·       Inform the parents.
• ·       Have one spokesperson who represents the school, and has the authority to make decisions. In the case of minor accidents, it may be a teacher. In a full-blown crisis, it should be the principal.
• ·       Do not talk to the media.

It is in the matter of how the procedures should be conducted taking into consideration the emotional aspects of the event that schools usually fail to measure up.

Most schools tend to avoid admitting to an error to avoid legal culpability and also perhaps because they wish to be seen as infallible. So the standard response is to meet the parents as minimally as necessary and refuse to take responsibility of any kind. On the other hand, most parents trust schools and are often looking for help while dealing with their grief. Working as partners to resolve the crisis and get the best medical help possible for the student will avoid further exacerbation of relations. The first step is for the school authority, be it the principal or the assistant to be available to answer questions and be seen to take responsibility. As happens in the movie, it may be more politic for the teacher to keep away from the family at the initial moments of the crisis when tempers are running high and parents need to play the blame game. However, it is imperative for her to share in the grief of the family and acknowledge her role in the events. A simple act such as an apology, or the teacher’s heartfelt tears, often de-escalate tensions, and is necessary for the healing of both parents and teachers.

It is also essential for the school to be supportive of teachers. Teachers who may have caused a crisis do not do so with intent to harm. Nor does such an incident leave them emotionally unscarred. Very few teachers are sadists or masochists, who like to inflict pain on their students or on themselves (Students may, of course, disagree with this statement!). As in the movie, the principal should take charge efficiently, even pushing back quietly at the management’s order to suspend the teacher with immediate effect.

The only affective area the film does not portray is what to do about the effects on students who may have witnessed the incident. The question is thrown up when a student asks her mother, “Will he (the injured student) return to school tomorrow?” It is essential to reassure students who may be encountering peer mortality that normalcy will prevail. The trauma caused by witnessing such violence must be processed. Counselors should be made available to talk students through this. Teachers are the most familiar adult figures to students and often the persons they will reach out to in a crisis. A short and pertinent professional development session should train teachers to recognize signs of trauma in students, especially those teachers who teach the grade and section of the injured student and that of the siblings.

For making a movie on a ‘touchy’ issue that teachers can watch without apologizing for their profession, director Bramma deserves the national award for Best Tamil Film 2014. As Tamil cinema comes of age, perhaps corporal punishment in schools will die a natural death. 

Why this English-medium-veri di?

I was (am) an English teacher and the language opens doors for me. But I am very concerned about the increasing mania for instruction in English.
This editorial was published in July 2012 in The Open Page. Read it below or at  (http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=366045620135137&set=a.366045226801843.83548.136382846434750&type=1&theater)

Why this English-medium-veri di?

Admission to English-medium schools has rocketed by 280%! We all want to send our children to schools in which all subjects are taught in English. Why? Why this craze for English-medium instruction? Do our children learn better and more when taught in English as against in Gujarati or Hindi? Do they become smarter or cleverer? Parents with children in English-medium schools in various states in India have their own ideas. Let us see if you agree with them.

Why English-medium schools?

For economic capital. First of all, English is absolutely necessary for my child to get a job. The kind and level of jobs available without a command of English are not good enough for us. I would also like my child to be able to work all over India or the world; without English, my child will be confined to living in one or two states.

For academic capital. All higher education is in English only, especially professional courses like medicine and engineering or in IT. For my child to go to college, he will need to have studied all subjects in English. This is even more important if he is to abroad for higher studies.

For social capital. All of our friends’ kids go to English-medium schools. How can I be left out? What kind of friends will my child have if he does not go to the same kind of school? Who will he play with? Who will invite him to birthday parties?

We feel proud when our children speak English in company. At a party at home or a family wedding, when my child sings an English song or recites a poem, all the guests are impressed. It won’t be the same if they recited a poem in Hindi or sang a song in Gujarati.

Cultural Capital. Let us face it. English-medium schools are more sophisticated than regional language schools. They are stricter, with more discipline and better facilities. The teachers are more refined and classy.

Learning English vs Learning in English

I entirely agree that English is essential for a better job prospect, for higher education and for a wider educational experience. I can also sympathise with the need to keep up appearances.

But there seems to be a small problem here. My friends are confusing ‘learning English’ with ‘learning in English’. Learning English is to be able speak, read and write English fluently. Learning in English is to study all subjects such as maths and science and conduct all school activities such as games and drama in English. So, knowing English is not the same as studying all subjects in English.

And there are two problems with studying in English-medium schools. The first is that research says very clearly that learning both the content and the language at the same time doubles the difficulty for students. Once students know the content, they can easily learn to express the ideas in English. So your child may be better off learning the fundamentals of math and science in Gujarati first in primary school. In the higher classes, students could then learn the English words for the ideas and concepts they already know, which would be much easier for them.

And how many times have you complained about the teachers’ standards of English? The fact is that we do not have required number of teachers to teach all subjects in English. While the teachers may know the subject, not all of them have a good command of English. Thus, teachers teach math in the English they know, which may not be very much. So the students end up learning neither math nor English very well. On the other hand, if the teacher taught in a language she is comfortable with, the content would be well taught.

So perhaps we need to seriously consider providing a regional language medium for the primary classes and the moving the students to English-medium for the high school. And good schools with high-standards will open up if we create a demand for it.

As for the social aspiration of having children be proficient in learning to speak English fluently, that is where tuition classes can be useful. If these were to focus on conversational English, students could learn songs and poems to their parents’ hearts content without their academics being affected.

Where sophistication is concerned, my friends have a right to their opinion. But how important is that for the primary schools? Isn’t it more important for our children to get a good grounding in the subjects?

So let us see if we can build good schools that help children learn to be bright and intelligent and know math and science and social studies very well – in the regional language. Then we can send them to English classes to learn to be socially proficient. By ending this kolaveri for English-medium education, parents and students can win!

Fearful Students Fearing Teachers

We expect our students to be proficient in all genres of writing. This year I stretched myself to see if I could write differently. I write 'academese' for scholarly journals. My writing in The Hindu was a journalism feature article.
This is a third level of casualness I am attempting, and perhaps the most difficult for me.
The Open Page (http://www.facebook.com/#!/TheOpenPage) is newspaper meant for parents, students and teachers publsihed in Ahmedabad, India. This article on corporal punishment is only about 500 words but keeping the research down and 'talking' more than 'writing' is breaking down barriers for me. Check my article out in the May issue (http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=332034043536295&set=a.308809069192126.72803.136382846434750&type=1&theater).

No Place for Fear in Classroom

The wide spread use of corporal punishment as noted in the recent study by NCPCR and the long-lasting effects such punishment on children are the basis for the this article.
It is getting easier to write for the popular press, and not worry about not having references. This appeared when I was at the Central and South Asia Fulbright Conference. It gave us all a kick to see the Fulbright affiliation in print.

http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/article2932688.ece

Where motive is profit, education takes a back seat

http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/article2745141.ece
My first (and last) article this year as a Fulbright-Nehru scholar.
More to come in 2012.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year to all.

The Basis of RtE: Pedagogy for Inclusion

My doctoral students are often tired of hearing me say two things: 1) The more you read on your topic, the less you will seem to understand the issues, and 2) It takes a long time to finalise research questions. They will be pleased that I have been experiencing the same frustrations going through the same process, giving myself enough time to understand what the real and immediate issues are with RtE, and the programmes that impact long-term changes in teacher. So here is my research study in it latest avatar.

Pedagogy for Inclusion - Philosophies and Practices of Teachers and Teacher Educators

Success in education is defined as not only affordable access to opportunities but as the learning that happens in classrooms. This is dependent primarily on effective teachers who in turn are impacted by their experience in the teaching education programme. However, the connections between knowledge acquired in the teacher education programmes and teacher performance in the classroom have been largely unexplored. Though government policy in the last decade through the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan and the Right to Education Act (2010) has made inclusion an important part of its agenda, the focus has been on systems of education rather than the act of teaching and learning. Thus, the effort of creating a pedagogy of inclusion that is relevant to India is marked by a lack of literature on the topics essential for an understanding of the issues.

Purpose

The purpose of this study is to identify the knowledge base that supports teachers’ pedagogic decisions regarding inclusive education, describe how teachers practice the principles of inclusion, and detail ways in which their teacher education programme has prepared them to address issues of diversity. This study will also describe teacher educators’ perceptions and knowledge of, and pedagogic practices related to, inclusive education.

Research Questions

1.     How do primary school teachers’ define inclusive education?
2.     What knowledge base supports primary school teachers’ pedagogic decisions regarding inclusive education?
3.     What pedagogic practices characterise primary school teachers’ design and implementation of inclusive education?
4.     What connections do primary school teachers make between theory and practice of inclusion?  
5.     How do teacher educators define inclusive education?
6.     What knowledge base supports teacher educators’ pedagogic decisions regarding inclusive education?
7.     What pedagogic practices characterise teacher educators’ design and implementation of inclusive education?

Sample

Teachers

§  The list of graduates of B.El.Ed. programme who are presently teaching Grades 1-3 in MCD/NDMC and private schools in Delhi will be formulated.
§  The final marks of these graduates will be obtained from the B.El.Ed. programmes to identify the top 10% of each graduating class.
§  Teacher educators in each college who are knowledgeable about their graduates, and principals of schools in which the teachers work will rate the above sample on their perception of a) overall teacher performance, b) popularity of teacher among students, and c) teacher’s effectiveness in connecting with students.
§  Triangulating all data above, one teacher from each programme will be invited to participate in the study, for a total of eight, including both MCD/NDMC and private schools in Delhi.

Teacher educators

§  Each of the 8 teachers will identify a teacher educator who was most influential, for a total of eight.

Data Collection

§  Teachers: Observation (3-5 days each); Interviews (pre-observation and post-observation)
§  Teacher educators: Interviews; Documents (e.g. course syllabi, assignment and task descriptions and instructions); Artifacts (e.g. student work samples, student test papers)