The young guy called me over to talk. I’d seen him before, usually leaning against a motorbike. I’m wary, as random conversations with young men I don't know are usually either to make a joke, to bring up some inappropriate topic, or to ask money-related questions, like, “How much do you make?” or “Can I work for you?” or “Can you teach me English so I can get a job?” or “Can you get me a visa to America?”. But I want to be hospitable in my community, so when a young man calls to me and I’m not in a huge rush, I usually let them start into the questions.
This time is different. He spoke respectfully, asked real questions about me that weren’t all annoying. Even though I needed to get children for the reading program, I gave him 5-10 minutes of my time. Then he got around to the question,
“I don’t know how to read – can you teach me too?”
I’m a bit unsure if he’s serious. “You mean in Hindi?”
“Yes, I don’t know how to read in Hindi.”
I give him my stock answer. “Then sure, you can come. Room is open from 3pm to 6pm, every day.”
“Really, I can come?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
This is my “stock answer” because I know that 30-50% of the kids and 95% of the adults who say they want me to teach them to read are not going to show up. I currently manage about 35 kids a day working with 3-4 teachers besides myself, and it’s a full load for 3 hours. I’m not about to chase additional people down teaching them house-to-house…they’ve got to show me some commitment. So I invite them to come, knowing they probably won’t, but they can’t ever say that I rejected them.
The next day, I’m getting my last students for the day when the same guy calls me over.
“So can I read with you?”
“Yeah, if you want to come.”
“Me too?” asks his friend standing next to him.
“Sure, you too.”
“Where?”
“Follow me, I’ll show you.”
To my surprise, they follow. There are three 10-12 year-old girls with us as well that I just picked up, and another young girl who I’d just given the stock “come and I’ll teach you” answer to. We were an interesting crew walking through the basti alleys. The new girl says, “I’ll come tomorrow!” and peels off. 80% of the time that means she’s not coming. But to my surprise, the two 20+ year-old guys stay right behind me.
As I’m about to get to the classroom, I suddenly remember. The home my class runs in has 5 sisters between the ages of 12 and 20, all unmarried. The two oldest are two of my teachers. The mother has strict rules that boys over 13 aren’t supposed to come in class. These two guys are definitely persona non grata.
Thinking on my feet, I tell them the situation and have them wait at the door. Then I run upstairs and grab all the books I’ll need. I get back down, and they’re not there anymore. Not surprising in the least. I ask a little girl, “So, where’d those men go,” not expecting a meaningful answer.
“Oh, they’re right there,” she replies. They are just waiting for me at the end of the alley.
My own room is close, so I take them over there. They’re reluctant to enter this house (perhaps because of the warning from the previous house?), but I insist they can go inside. We go up to my room. “This is Jon’s room!” one of them exclaims, without clear implications. I open up and we sit down.
“So, how much do you know how to read.”
“Nothing at all,” they both tell me.
I’m skeptical. Not to stereotype, but I thought I had a decent idea of who would know how to read and who wouldn’t, and the main guy especially looks like the sort who would know at least something. I turn to an easy word in a book. “Can you tell me what this says?”
“I don’t know,” one says, turning to the other, “Do you know what this says?”
“I don’t know.”
I’m wondering if they’re putting a little bit of a ruse on me, but I play along for now. I ask them basic questions – they’re 25 and 20 years old, neither has ever been to school. “Okay, we’ll start at the beginning them.” We start with the most basic letters.
One of them, not the main one who started the conversation with me, can identify the letters from the associated pictures. He isn’t immediately able to form words from letters, but soon gets that too for the first few simple words without too much difficulty. You can see he’s excited to be figuring out how to read so quickly.
The other guy, who is dressed stylishly, can’t even identify letters with associated pictures 2/3 of the time. Sometimes he can't even ID the pictures. He has less starting knowledge than almost any student over the age of 7 that I’ve tested. Even when we figure out the letters together, he can’t put them together into words. The mistakes are genuine and I’m now certain that they aren’t fooling with me. They work through the first short lesson.
Realizing that it’d be easier just to teach them at their own place, and affirming that they had made that first commitment to showing up on my terms, I tell them that I’ll come to their house from now on. I tell them I’ll come daily at the end of each teaching day, and they agree.
As we leave the room, the main guy, 25-year-old Sadav, turns to me. “Actually I did go to school once. I didn’t know something and the teacher hit me with a stick. I was looking at the words and I was so confused, and while I was confused the teacher hit me. So I was…” and he trails off, but makes a dismissive motion with his arms, clearly indicating that his young self had decided that that was enough of school for him.
Sadav and Rejvan were readers 38 and 39 for my class on this particular day. But it’s been weeks since I was hurt and touched as much by one of my kids. This is a story repeated tens of millions of times across India. Maybe, God willing, today was the beginning of something small and good coming into the story.
This time is different. He spoke respectfully, asked real questions about me that weren’t all annoying. Even though I needed to get children for the reading program, I gave him 5-10 minutes of my time. Then he got around to the question,
“I don’t know how to read – can you teach me too?”
I’m a bit unsure if he’s serious. “You mean in Hindi?”
“Yes, I don’t know how to read in Hindi.”
I give him my stock answer. “Then sure, you can come. Room is open from 3pm to 6pm, every day.”
“Really, I can come?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
This is my “stock answer” because I know that 30-50% of the kids and 95% of the adults who say they want me to teach them to read are not going to show up. I currently manage about 35 kids a day working with 3-4 teachers besides myself, and it’s a full load for 3 hours. I’m not about to chase additional people down teaching them house-to-house…they’ve got to show me some commitment. So I invite them to come, knowing they probably won’t, but they can’t ever say that I rejected them.
The next day, I’m getting my last students for the day when the same guy calls me over.
“So can I read with you?”
“Yeah, if you want to come.”
“Me too?” asks his friend standing next to him.
“Sure, you too.”
“Where?”
“Follow me, I’ll show you.”
To my surprise, they follow. There are three 10-12 year-old girls with us as well that I just picked up, and another young girl who I’d just given the stock “come and I’ll teach you” answer to. We were an interesting crew walking through the basti alleys. The new girl says, “I’ll come tomorrow!” and peels off. 80% of the time that means she’s not coming. But to my surprise, the two 20+ year-old guys stay right behind me.
As I’m about to get to the classroom, I suddenly remember. The home my class runs in has 5 sisters between the ages of 12 and 20, all unmarried. The two oldest are two of my teachers. The mother has strict rules that boys over 13 aren’t supposed to come in class. These two guys are definitely persona non grata.
Thinking on my feet, I tell them the situation and have them wait at the door. Then I run upstairs and grab all the books I’ll need. I get back down, and they’re not there anymore. Not surprising in the least. I ask a little girl, “So, where’d those men go,” not expecting a meaningful answer.
“Oh, they’re right there,” she replies. They are just waiting for me at the end of the alley.
My own room is close, so I take them over there. They’re reluctant to enter this house (perhaps because of the warning from the previous house?), but I insist they can go inside. We go up to my room. “This is Jon’s room!” one of them exclaims, without clear implications. I open up and we sit down.
“So, how much do you know how to read.”
“Nothing at all,” they both tell me.
I’m skeptical. Not to stereotype, but I thought I had a decent idea of who would know how to read and who wouldn’t, and the main guy especially looks like the sort who would know at least something. I turn to an easy word in a book. “Can you tell me what this says?”
“I don’t know,” one says, turning to the other, “Do you know what this says?”
“I don’t know.”
I’m wondering if they’re putting a little bit of a ruse on me, but I play along for now. I ask them basic questions – they’re 25 and 20 years old, neither has ever been to school. “Okay, we’ll start at the beginning them.” We start with the most basic letters.
One of them, not the main one who started the conversation with me, can identify the letters from the associated pictures. He isn’t immediately able to form words from letters, but soon gets that too for the first few simple words without too much difficulty. You can see he’s excited to be figuring out how to read so quickly.
The other guy, who is dressed stylishly, can’t even identify letters with associated pictures 2/3 of the time. Sometimes he can't even ID the pictures. He has less starting knowledge than almost any student over the age of 7 that I’ve tested. Even when we figure out the letters together, he can’t put them together into words. The mistakes are genuine and I’m now certain that they aren’t fooling with me. They work through the first short lesson.
Realizing that it’d be easier just to teach them at their own place, and affirming that they had made that first commitment to showing up on my terms, I tell them that I’ll come to their house from now on. I tell them I’ll come daily at the end of each teaching day, and they agree.
As we leave the room, the main guy, 25-year-old Sadav, turns to me. “Actually I did go to school once. I didn’t know something and the teacher hit me with a stick. I was looking at the words and I was so confused, and while I was confused the teacher hit me. So I was…” and he trails off, but makes a dismissive motion with his arms, clearly indicating that his young self had decided that that was enough of school for him.
Sadav and Rejvan were readers 38 and 39 for my class on this particular day. But it’s been weeks since I was hurt and touched as much by one of my kids. This is a story repeated tens of millions of times across India. Maybe, God willing, today was the beginning of something small and good coming into the story.
2 comments:
Great story, thanks Jon!
Grateful for this story and the your intervention in the riot. Just read both now. I continue to think and pray for you two often
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