Tag: Education

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

What We Learn Cannot Be Burnt – \’An Afghan Neo-Literate Woman

As we work in education, it often tends to get too \’sanitized\’ – as if it is not about real people in real situations, where education has a meaning that\’s almost impossible to comprehend. Here\’s a story from Afghanistan, from a programme called Learning for Life that sought to provide initial literacy and health awareness to enable women to become CHWs (community health workers, sorely needed in the country). This story was documented in June 2005, by Judie Schiffbauer, and shared by Katy Anis.


Each morning, six days a week, 40 year old Zeba Gul wraps a light gray shawl around her head and shoulders and leaves her family’s mud-walled compound in the Afghan village of BegToot.  She follows a path that winds through dusty alleyways and then along green fields to arrive at a two-story building constructed of unbaked brick made from mud and straw.  Inside, a set of narrow stairs leads to the Learning for Life classroom, where other women are already gathered.  Removing her shoes at the doorway, she enters and lowers herself to the mat-covered floor, tucking her long legs beneath her.  
In December 2004, when the LfL health-based literacy program began in BegToot, wind whipped snow against the classroom windows, but on this fine summer day, the windows are open to admit a pleasant breeze.  The room looks out over groves of mulberry trees, for which the village is named.  Tall, creviced mountains rise high in the distance, still bearing traces of winter snow.
But the 26 women in the class are not admiring the view.  Instead, each attends to Qotsia, their 21-year-old teacher, who stands beside a small blackboard at the front of the room.  One of millions of Afghans who fled the war-torn country, Qotsia grew up as a refugee in Iran, where she received 12 years of formal education.  Now she has returned to BegToot, and the women are grateful.
 Dressed and coifed in black, Qotsia begins to write with a piece of chalk.  Carefully demonstrating each stroke, she writes a word in Dari composed of several letters from the alphabet displayed on a poster on the wall.  The dark black letters on the poster are easy to see, but six months ago, no woman in the class could have named or written a single one.  Today, hands shoot up when Qotsea asks someone to spell out and then read what she has written.  One woman rises and comes forward:  k a r u m (worm).  “Very good, Pashtoon Jan!” says Qotsia.  Pashtoon Jan smiles as her fellow learners sound out the word, repeat it in unison, and write it in their notebooks:   k a r u m.  Worms are the topic of today’s lesson.  
To the left of the blackboard, a series of drawings depicts women busy with women’s chores:  one is cleaning vegetables; one is boiling water to be stored in an earthenware jar; another is feeding a sick baby; and one is washing a child’s dirty hands.  Now the women in this Level One literacy class are going to learn how worms and a child’s dirty hands are related. 
As one of six Community Health Workers enrolled in the class, Zeba Gul already knows a lot about worms.  Their life cycle and method of transmission were explained to her when BRAC, a REACH NGO-grantee, trained her as a CHW.  But until now, Zeba Gul has never known how to spell, read or write the names of the parasites– roundworm, tapeworm, and pinworm—that sicken so many children and adults in the village. 
As Qotsia begins the lesson, Zeba Gul leans forward and points to a young woman sitting nearby: “That’s my daughter,” she whispers. “Because of this class, she is learning to read and write before her hair turns gray.”
Later, the class at an end and women lingering to talk, Zeba Gul told her story.  She was born in Paghman, but she has not always lived there.  When she was sixteen, she married and moved to Kabul with her husband to live with his family. Her daughter and several other children were born in the city.
“It was good,” says Zeba Gul.  “My husband had a small shop.  He worked hard.  In the morning, he opened the shop.  In the afternoon, he had a second job in a government building.”
Even during the dark days of war, the family chose not to leave Afghanistan for sanctuary in Pakistan or Iran.  “We stayed,” she says, remembering their struggles with a hint of pride in her voice.  “We were hard workers, and we stayed.” 
For a time after the Russians left, Zeba Gul thought the worst was behind them.  But peace did not last long.  “After that,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what the fighting was about; I know only that it did not stop.  So much fighting.”
When Zeba Gul explains that both the family’s shop and home were near Damazang in Karte Seh, the room grows very quiet.  Everyone knows that Karte Seh was virtually destroyed during the civil war.  “Ay, Khoda!” the women whisper, as Zeba Gul continues her story:
“One night, our shop was ablaze. How it burned!  And our house burned too.  Everything we had was swallowed in fire.  Oh, God.  What could we do?  We had nothing left!  So we returned to Paghman.  It was more than ten years ago.  Here, my husband is a farmer.  Thanks to Allah, he is alive.” 
Many of her listeners have been less fortunate, and the widows nod in agreement as Zeba Gul utters her prayer of gratitude.  The women in the room have known great sorrows, but it is resilience that binds them. 
“Now,” continues Zeba Gul, “I am a CHW.  And I am learning to read and write in this class.  See there: my daughter is also here! Faz l’Khoda–Give thanks to God.  What we learn cannot be burned.”  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

The Qualities of a Change-Maker

Improving educational quality ends up being about change rather than tinkering with some elements. 

What then are the qualities of those involved in bringing about this change? 

Here are my guesses. As can be expected, this is a long wish-list! I need your help to identify which ones are really important. And suggestions, too, about how to generate these qualities in the people we work with.
A change-maker:
  1. is sharp, can quickly see what needs to be changed, and has effective ways of helping others see this too, but without getting into a conflict!
  2. can spot opportunities for introducing change
  3. does not have a sense of hierarchy; does not discriminate
  4. has a sense of humour, which gives her/him the ability to live with the difficulties and slow pace of change
  5. at the same time, s/he can take quick decisions and act fast if needed
  6. is aware that he may himself by a victim of the old ways of thinking and living; so is constantly examining himself and trying to improve himself
  7. can help a person see what is wrong without feeling bad or without that person feeling he is being disliked.
  8. has a sense of strategy – that is, of actions that will slowly, perhaps indirectly, bring about the change desired, in stages
  9. is honest and has the greatest accountability to herself, on behalf of those she works for
  10. is aware that there will be some conflicts, and has a plan and ability to deal with this; if necessary, generates conflict, though in a calibrated manner
  11. is aware that his role is that of enabling others to deliver rather than deliver on their behalf
  12. knows how long change takes, and does not give up
  13. Can work as a team member, and also get others to work as a team – for which, helps by:

  • Sharing goals

  • Sharing information

  • Recognizing, utilizing and balancing the strengths and weaknesses of the group

  • Ensuring recognition as a team


What kind of process would help develop these qualities? 
What kind of reflection, debate and conversation do you think is needed? 
And can it be done in the kind of time-frames we usually have
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Three Reasons Why The Use Of I.T. In Schools Is NOT Leading to Improved Learning

Recent reports from different parts of the world show that computer / IT supported learning programmes are not yielding the learning improvements expected. 
So why is this happening?
After looking at a fair number of IT-based programmes, software, and reports from different sources, this appears to be because something critical is being ignored: that improved learning requires both improved relationships and processes, and a clearer focus on outcomes considered worthwhile. Let me explain this a little. 
1. IT Use Doesn\’t Seek to Impact Relationships 
Relationships among the key stakeholders – teachers, students, parents / community, school heads, supervisors and administrators, and academic support personnel – cannot be bypassed; without improving them, it is difficult to see learning outcomes improve. Living in the hope that IT usage will make a difference here, is to be unrealistic. For relationships to flourish, apart from changing the teacher\’s role (and several other aspects), activities that require real group thinking would make a difference. At present the IT material has not paid sufficient attention here, though it is uniquely placed to do so, especially in gaming software. 
In addition, of course, several governance changes are required (e.g. in how school \’inspection\’ takes place) as well as in management of learning (through better preparation for teaching, classroom organization and use of assessment). Again, a misplaced emphasis on IT will not see changes here.
2. IT Use Could – But Doesn\’t – Sufficiently Impact Processes:
Some parts of the curriculum require face time between teachers and students, and among students themselves. Some parts are better handled through IT – I believe such an analysis of curriculum has not been done, resulting in everything being dumped on to IT, much of which it is not really in a position to support. (Khan Academy does try to increase the face time by \’reversing\’ the class, but it still does not do this analysis sufficiently and could benefit from it).
3. IT Use Doesn\’t Always Focus On The Outcomes It Should
The tendency is to focus mainly on a limited number of scholastic outcomes. In fact, even within the subjects themselves, higher order learning objectives are often ignored, or under-represented. Believe it or not, this affects the learning of other aspects as well! E.g. children who have the opportunity to make creative use of language end up being better in grammar and spelling than children who get an overdose of grammar and spelling. A great deal of IT material is geared to towards getting children to answer tests / exams rather than help in real, long-term learning.
But other than the subjects, larger curricular goals – such as cooperation, respect for diversity, development of a scientific outlook and an ecological perspective, developing a questioning mind, democratic values – hardly figure in much of the IT based material / activities. Implying that it is, at best, supporting some parts of subject-oriented learning rather than  education as such.
So is all this emphasis on \’modern technology\’ wrong and misguided? No, not necessarily wrong, but our expectations are certainly misplaced. In our desire to find the one single magic solution we have ignored the many other actions that need to be taken before learning improves. Perhaps focusing on IT seems easier and more exciting than than the hard work that the other stuff requires.
At any rate, IT is clearly not the silver bullet that many desperately believe it to be. It needs to be treated as just one more tool to be used, rather than as a solution for problems that it can\’t solve. And even as a tool, it needs to be used much better than is the case at present. 

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Did you brush your ideas today?

A few minutes spent watching TV or flipping through a magazine would convince anyone that looking good is one of the most important objectives in society! Ads for creams of all kinds, face washes, shampoos, razors, jewelery, clothes — all evidence that we are firmly in the the midst of a \’lookist\’ age. If you don\’t \’look\’ it, you aren\’t it!

But as we groom our bodies, it might be a good idea to groom our minds as well! Failure to do this seems to have brought about (or perpetuated) the many difficulties we find ourselves in. For instance, as our education system (with around 5.7 million teachers and close to three hundred thousand education officials) rumbles on, and we strive to bring about a major improvement, this is one barrier that keeps springing up again and again. Our thinking tools have become either so dull or limited that at every stage of the transition presents huge challenges:
  • How can each stakeholder envisage the improvement desired in their own way (i.e., have their own vision)?
  • How can all involved begin to understand / conceptualize the massive shift involved?
  • Since improvement is helped by planned rather than a random set of actions, how to help each person plan better – which implies the ability to identify what is desired, what the gaps are, conjuring up a repertoire of \’solutions\’, weighing the different options to identify the ones that fit the situation best, and knowing the difference between sequencing and prioritizing!
And we haven\’t even come to the actual implementation yet… which involves actions such as teaching, mentoring, communicating, supervising, organizing and managing, monitoring, counselling, developing, recording and analyzing, assessing and evaluating — all tasks that require a range of thinking skills. It comes almost as a shock to realize that different actions require different ways of thinking. That before you start thinking on something you need to ask yourself – which would the best way to think here? Much like a surgeon choosing the right tool at each stage of a complex operation. In fact, that is what our situation is tending to be – of a surgeon armed with only a kitchen knife and hence limited in terms of what she can do! In fact, if you don\’t \’think\’ it, you aren\’t it!

What can one do to begin overcoming this situation? A few suggestions to start with:

  • Make a list of all the key actions you perform
  • Identify the thinking skills or ways of thinking required (e.g. do you have to be more \’out of the box\’ and creative, or do you have to maintain a rigorous commitment to the given information and derive a logically valid inference).
  • Practice these skills
  • When undertaking new action, please choose the appropriate thinking tool you need to use
  • Finally, don\’t forget to brush your ideas! That is, do reflect on the ideas we use in the daily course of our work – have they become stale? or dusty or outdated? do we need to discard them and move on to different ideas?

So even as we become willing participants in the \’lookist\’ age, here\’s hoping that more and more of us will also  create our own \’thinkist\’ age!
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Is Education for Girls Different from Education for Boys?

If we were to educate only girls, would we develop an education different from the one that prevails now? And would it be different from an education created only for boys?

Before you lynch me for raising blasphemous ideas and restricting girls to things such as reproductive health and sewing/knitting, let me explain. If we were to look at education only from the boys\’ point of view, we would find that everything we wanted is probably already there. But that is not the case when it comes to girls. Surely, education for both boys and girls would be much better off if the girls\’ perspective, experience and world view were, in fact, included.

Think, for a moment, of recipes, and how they would be wonderful material for learning mathematics (interesting, isn\’t it?). Or the kind of abilities girls have with fine motor skills and patterns. Or multi-tasking. Or giving value to emotions and relationships. Or being able to share rather than dominate. Or how to make use of meager resources. Or a range of other things which I\’m sure you can list (endlessly). Are we not depriving ourselves in not exploring this? There is no doubt that, on the whole, education is much the poorer from having been defined by the male perspective. Which then applies to the world itself as well.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Cure or Prevention: the Health Education Dilemma

There is no doubt that educating children on health issues is absolutely important. But the moment we begin this, a major problem crops up. What should the thrust of health education be in a context like ours? It\’s not as simple as it appears.

If we were to talk of prevention, we find ourselves making invalid assumptions. For instance, we start with \’washing hands with soap regularly prevents disease\’. But the problem is, say a huge proportion of children and the community, \’there is not enough water even to drink, how do we wash hands with soap?\’ Next we say, \’you must eat green leafy vegetables\’. However, the response: \’hey, there isn\’t enough food to eat in the first place, let alone leafy vegetables\’. The list is endless. The bottom-line: poverty is at least as important a health issue as lack of health education.

On the other hand, emphasizing prevention has its own limitations. For example, when discussing scabies it is common to find the use of neem being advocated. Though neem is commonly available, it is not exactly always useful in all cases of scabies. Medical advice should be sought rather than relying only on such suggestions. As they say, it can be dangerous to be armed with half-baked information.

So what do we do? Not talk about health at all?

No, we do need to educate our children on health. But the emphasis has to be on educate rather than merely plying them with information. In concrete terms this implies helping children perceive the causal links between different factors in their immediate environment and their health. How the body works, what it is affected by and how it responds to different factors, and how our own actions (individually and collectively) impact upon it — these are some of the components of what contemporary health education should be like.

This would naturally require scope for exploration, projects and activities. The pedagogy involved should help children arrive at their own conclusions, especially in terms of actions they could take. Here\’s an example of what might be a good health education activity (for grade 3 students, assisted by their teacher):

Take two small plates — put a little dal water in one, and a little sweet tea in the other. Set these plates in the sun and let the fluids dry. After a while, touch both of them with your fingers – one of them feels sticky and the other doesn\’t. Why do you think this is so?

Next, take a knife (let your teacher do this!). Cut a cucumber and feel the knife edge carefully. Now cut a piece of jaggery and feel the edge again (carefully!). Which item left a more sticky knife edge? Why?

So when we eat, which items are more likely to continue sticking to our teeth? And what will happen if they remain there (discuss with your teacher)? So what do we need to do? 

That\’s it. There\’s no need really to give a long lecture of oral hygiene, full of facts and figures and information on exactly how to hold the brush etc. etc. All that sounds so platitudinous that children instinctively \’switch off\’ (as do adults when lectured!). The intention is that by helping children arrive at their own conclusions, we increase their stake in taking appropriate health-related action. And hence the increased chance that the understanding will actually translate into behavior!

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Missing the Aim(s) of Education!

It\’s a perennial struggle to define what we really want out of education. That is, it is a struggle for those who are vested with the responsibility of developing the curriculum, materials, evaluation and the like. For others, such as parents, things are reasonably clear. Which is where part of the problem lies.
The common man, or the consumer, or the parents of children who come to a majority of our schools, have no doubt at all that the purpose of education is to prepare children so that they can get a job (and be a worry off their heads). Many others – such as owners of private schools – boast that they get hundred percent results in the various examinations. Implying that the purpose of education is to get children to pass through examinations with flying colours (and what the purpose of the examinations is of course well known to all!)
And if you ask teachers in government schools, the ones who actually teach and are considered \’sincere\’, they will usually come out with statements such as: \’to develop a citizen, for all round development, someone with values, someone who can be called an educated person.\’
But when it comes to developing the curriculum we are somehow so reluctant to agree with these commonly held perceptions. We want something better, higher, more durable (our own approximation of the Olympics motto?) \’To produce someone who has a deep sense of values\’ is one of the most common aspirations. But what kind of values? And what to do about the fact that values are so relative (e.g. in certain situations, you actually get a medal for killing a man!). What is needed in order to be able to exercise values appropriately in a contextual and relative manner? And is that more a cognitive rather than ethical function (e.g. identifying options, weighing them against each other on various criteria, etc.)?
\’Education should develop the right kind of sanskars / culture in the student\’ is the next most popular choice. But whose culture are we talking about? A teacher trying to teach children how to use a handkerchief to blow their nose was left aghast when they reacted with amused horror as he put his handkerchief back into his pocket – they said they always threw things away after blowing their nose with rather than putting them back into their pocket! In a context as diverse as ours where the good manners of one group are easily the bad manners of others would we not end up simply extending the social control of dominant cultural group/s?
Unable to resolve this we move to discussing: what kind of society do we want to see? What would we consider a developed society? Where everyone has a job and the per capita income is high (back to jobs as the most important criterion?).  Slowly the discussion moves to recognizing the diversity in society and the need for each group / person to respect the \’other\’ and cherish, even celebrate this diversity. The need for a dynamic society that is able to overcome the divides of caste and class, race and gender is emphasized. A society where collaboration is valued and practiced, where resources are more equitably distributed and opportunity is available to each person to better his or her lot is portrayed as the desired one.
So what are the qualities needed in the children emerging from our schools in order that this vision come close to reality. Now a little more concrete set of indicators emerges – self-confidence, autonomy, decision-making ability, the ability to accept one\’s own shortcomings and confront / improve them, a more scientific attitude that helps them question given conclusions and arrive at their own inferences, and so on.
So how would this impact the subjects we are teaching? Here again we run into difficulties – since, despite our best efforts, we continue to be the prisoners of our past. The kind of ideas that come up are: include a lesson on self-confidence and one on self-dependence as well, have guidance and counselling, do scouts and guides\’ activities, and the like. As if a lesson in self-confidence or the description of a great person\’s life will help attain self-dependence!
When this is explored further, the true import of some of these \’small indicators\’ begins to sink in. To ensure that children develop self-confidence, for example, they need to experience challenges as well as successes, repeatedly.  This will generate the necessary self-belief. Clearly, then, instead of simply teaching in the regular way and appreciating the child\’s efforts, the teacher instead needs to challenge the child – by introducing tasks of which some part children can do, along with others that they would find difficult. Then it would be important to ask children to plan it by themselves, share and justify their plan to a larger set of friends and finally implementing it on their own. The experience of this implementation needs to be discussed so that lessons may be drawn for the next time. It is repeated experiences of this kind that lead to self-confidence.
For each of the changes / developments we want in our children, identifying its implications is a harrowing task. Not only is it difficult to know what to do so that the desired outcomes happen (e.g. how do you \’teach\’ to accept one\’s limitations and also go beyond them?), the emerging discussion tends to doubly challenge long-held notions and deep-rooted practice. (Such as supporting children as they learn on their own rather than teaching them as we are used to.) And if these are the qualities we desire in our children, we are really left wondering why it is that we should be teaching things such as physics or chemistry or past participle and geometric progression.
As we progress further in defining the aims of education, we seem to be moving further away from \’education\’ itself as we know it and into something that is still quite undefined and yet to be evolved. Somehow even as we define the aims, we seem to be missing them.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Using Performance Standards to Improve Teacher Effectiveness

Here are some of the key principles that emerged from the ADEPTS experience over the last few years. ADEPTS (or Advancement of Educational Performance through Teacher Support) is an approach or a way of working, based on the use of performance standards. [More details and the standards themselves can be shared with those interested! In the meantime, here are some of the insights that emerged – feedback and your views are welcome.]
  
  1. The most important way to generate teacher motivation is to enable them to experience success in the classroom. Hence a set of minimum enabling conditions being in place make a huge difference. 
  2. Teachers change when they experience the standards, rather than simply being told about them – towards this, the in-service courses themselves need to incorporate the standards expected of teachers. (A few of the states have begun this process of improving their own inputs to teachers.)
  3. There is a sequence in which teachers learn (and indeed institutions and systems learn). It is also better to avoid overcrowding expectations. It would therefore be best to plan improvement in terms of stages of teacher development, broken down into three-month phases, each of which has a very limited number of indicators to be attained (4-8). As teachers attain one set of indicators, this motivates them as well as prepares them for the next, higher order, set. The support institutions, too, learn along with the teachers and grow phase-wise in turn.
  4. Standards and indicators can tend to be vague! It is important to convert them into concrete steps that can actually be implemented by teachers. Thus, if an indicator agreed upon is ‘children ask questions freely, without fear’ there is a need to make clear exactly what the teacher needs to do for this to happen. Hence, as part of the roll out, all teams need to detail the concrete steps involved in converting the expectations into actionable steps.
  5. Implementer choice and partnering with teachers is more likely to yield results than passing on a set of instructions. In sub-district meetings, teachers should get to choose the indicators they want to attain (from a given list of potential indicators for that stage, though) and identify / develop the steps needed to attain these. Their performance will be assessed against the indicators chosen by them. If possible, peer assessment will be introduced.
  6. ‘Target setting’ in terms of the degree of improvement in performance can now be practiced. Teachers and their resource persons can use the standards document to fix the degree of change they seek to bring about over, say, a year or six months. They can then assess their progress against this. As this was not possible earlier, improvement efforts tended to lose their way very soon.
  7. Taking a ‘low-interference’ approach helps – that is, there is no pressure on the system to change curriculum or textbooks or introduce new model of teaching. It is more a case of ‘doing the same as before, but a little differently’; this reduces systemic stress and enables rapid implementation.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

Over-aged — and loving it! — Part 1

It\’s difficult, but imagine for a moment that you\’re an 11-year-old who wasn\’t able to attend school. When you were very young, you can remember, your parents moved from place to place, working on construction sites. A few years ago, they got work back in your village as a canal made agriculture more possible. And you yourself started off being an assistant cattle-herder. Now, though, you\’ve graduated to full cattle-herder, with knowledge of all the grazing areas, the watering places, the dangers to look out for (that unexpected ditch into which all the young cattle are always falling) and the idiosyncrasies of owners who don\’t always pay on time. As you saw children going to the nearby school carrying weird little bags or screaming insults at you, you wondered what they did holed up the whole day in that building. Even the cattle seemed to be more free than they.

Then one day, the newly appointed teacher organised a meeting with all community members and explained to them something called \’Right to Education\’. Basically, this meant that your parents decided you should go to school. No one asked you. Your father only said, \’Now work is more regular here, we can manage.\’ So off to school you were dispatched. Being alone with a hundred cattle in the nearby jungle (with the possibility of that nasty jackal) seemed so much less fearful than entering that stark building, all yellow and white with blue things written on it here and there.

What are the children in there going to say? Your mother made you have your bath and put on the other pair of clothes, so no one would say you smell — but the beloved odour of cows isn\’t going away from you and your clothes anytime soon. There are some green-painted metal play things on small play ground. The smell of food being cooked mingles with the smell of something else (it\’s paper and chalk and sweat, though you don\’t know it yet). Your heart is in your mouth as you step onto the ramp climbing up to the school. The teacher comes out and is looking at you — and you\’re doing your best not to run away. Away, back to the beloved forest, with the hundred cattle who know you so well.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1

The Top Ten Confusions in Education

Trying to improve the quality of education – be it in a school or a cluster or an entire system – can be full of \’land-mines\’ exploding unexpectedly, leaving you with confusion all around you. Here are the top ten \’confusion\’ land-mines:

  • It is only when I teach that children will learn, isn\’t it?
  • Don\’t we have to guide children and show them the way?
  • I\’m not biased, am I?
  • Can all children really learn?
  • We can\’t teach different children different things in the same classroom, can we?
  • If only the teachers started working, wouldn\’t all problems of school education be solved?
  • If I turned out OK, how can there be much wrong with the education system?
  • If children start thinking by themselves and \’constructing\’ their own knowledge, what is the role of (and the need for) the teacher?
  • If we don\’t discipline children and correct their \’errors\’, won\’t they turn out bad?
  • Isn\’t the curriculum the same as the textbook that has to be \’covered\’?
  • In-service teacher training workshops can transform teachers, isn\’t it?
  • Testing is the best and the only way to find out if children have learnt anything, isn\’t it?
  • If one\’s education doesn\’t help one get a job, what good is it?
  • Researchers and academics know best about classroom processes, don\’t they?

Actually the list is longer than ten – pick out your own top ten! (You can include ones that are not here)

Also, who\’s the one confused? You, or the others? And is there anything that can be done?

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCzOJDJZHoBttdHAjJsnN9w?sub_confirmation=1