On Saturday, the 7th of February, around 9:30 in the morning, if you had attended the Karachi Literature Festival and on the off chance, had peeped into the Sunflower Room, you would have seen a group of several wide-eyed, awestruck little children sitting huddled on the chairs as they took in the grandeur of their surroundings.
Many of you reading this will think that ‘grandeur’ is too generous a word to describe the venue. After all, we have seen places that are ten times more luxurious and impressive.
So who were these children and why were they so mystified?
Hailing from some of Karachi’s most impoverished families, these children are currently students of a government school that is, but a signal crossing away from the most posh areas of the city. Currently, they are studying under fellows from Teach for Pakistan, an initiative of the Aman Foundation. In response to the education emergency in the country, Teach for Pakistan hires outstanding young graduates and professionals and places them as teachers in government schools across Karachi and Lahore for a period of two years.
As a teacher, and as a student during my Masters in Education, I was not entirely unaware of the massive education achievement gap prevalent between private and public schools. However, nothing could have truly prepared me for the mindboggling literacy problems faced by students in public schools till I stepped into their classrooms as a Teach for Pakistan Fellow. Most of my third graders could not identify the letters of the alphabet (English and Urdu); out of 60 fourth grade students, only 4 could read basic words.
Many of my students live in single bedroom houses with their families; they haven’t eaten food at places fancier than at roadside vendors’, they’ve never seen the inside of shopping malls, ridden in anything more luxurious than a rickshaw. Heck, many of them are so strapped for cash, they often end up sharing pencils and erasers with their siblings; more times than I can count, a student’s brother or sister comes in to borrow their stationery because they can’t afford to have one for each.
My kids were quiet and withdrawn, feeling totally out of place next to their well-dressed, well-spoken and very confident private school counterparts
So for these students, the rare visit to a hotel for the Karachi Literature Festival was cause for great excitement and nervousness. While waiting for the Art of Bookmaking session to begin, my kids were quiet and withdrawn, feeling totally out of place next to their well-dressed, well-spoken and very confident private school counterparts.
It was a day of intense life lessons and several reality checks for my students. As an English Language teacher, I have defended the value of learning the language countless times to my students. However, nothing I have said has ever had the kind of impact than the two hours at the festival did. Several times during the session, my children would look desperately at each other if they could not understand the moderator’s instructions. As they watched students from other schools conversing fluently in a language they could barely understand, I could see that they felt extremely left. A crucial moment for them was when the moderator told them that a book generally has pages in multiples of four. When she asked what the next count would be after four, my students immediately said five. There was a bit of snickering from students in other schools and my children could not understand why they were wrong. It was only when I told them that she was talking about the table of 4, that they realized the meaning of multiples. As hard as this disparity was for me to digest, it was harder still for my students. What amazes me every day, however, is their resilience and their will to push through the toughest situations. When I told my children that their books could be in any language, they chose to write them in English. I know a lot of you will say “What’s wrong about writing in Urdu?” Well, nothing really. The point is that my students decided to step out of their comfort zones and challenge themselves to achieve more instead of just taking the easy way out. We often argue about how we should take pride in our own language, but here’s a reality check for you. These students can’t write meaningful sentences in Urdu either.
The million dollar view
One of the most heartbreaking moments for me was when my students had to come to terms with the economic disparity around them, especially the fact that they lay at the lower end of the income spectrum. We say that only the rich kids live in a bubble; I find this extends to my students as well. You see, the world that they live in is so limited in terms of choice that they often don’t know how much more there is for them to experience. After the session, we decided to have snacks at the food court. Although my co-fellows had arranged for refreshments for our children, what we didn’t anticipate was that they might just want to try out some of the food at the court. A couple of them insisted that they wanted to buy coffee, a delicacy for them, but I told them to avoid wasting their money. They were so adamant, however, that I caved and I followed them to the Espresso counter.
Throughout my fellowship, I have had countless moments that have reminded me of my privilege; watching my students’ expressions at the realization that a mere cup of coffee was for Rs. 200, however, tops them all – their look of shock and utter disappointment and the comprehension of how drastically the scales of economics tipped against them. As a teacher, you always want to shelter and protect your students; you want to preserve their childhood innocence as long as you can so you can imagine how hard it was to stand back, and let my students learn from this moment instead of giving in to my urge to buy them all the coffee in the world, and stood as I watched them walk away from the counter, and the silence at the table afterwards.
There were so many wonderful moments, too, which made me appreciate events like the Karachi Literature Festival. The children loved the section with the book stalls and pointed out several books that they wanted to read. I have never seen them so excited about books before.
Several organizers, volunteers and visitors came up to my students and spoke to them, which they really loved. One man in particular, told them that he was very happy and proud to see them at the festival; he said he wanted them to continue working hard and looked forward to seeing them achieve great things in life. He left my students beaming with joy. A co-fellow’s student told her that she was amazed at how well-behaved everyone was; she could not believe that so many people from such different backgrounds could go on the whole day without a fight breaking out between them.
As Karachiites, we exist in a world infested by target killings and bomb blasts and so, events such the Karachi Literature Festival are much welcome and appreciated. To my students, it offered a chance to give them much needed exposure; helping them walk away with valuable life lessons that I could never have taught them within the four walls of their classrooms.
So on Saturday the 7th of February, around 12:30 in the afternoon, if you had attended the Karachi Literature Festival and on the off chance, had walked past the reception you would have seen a group of several happy little children, their eyes sparkling with the knowledge of secrets only life can tell.
