Little known ways of knowing

Anand Krishnaswamy

“Sir, I have three ways of differentiating between forests and orchards.” quipped Anuj of grade 2. What he then went on to share taught me a lot about how I might never be prepared enough for the possible ways in which young minds work. His declaration came as a response to my question on whether their definition of a forest would help differentiate a forest from an orchard. I will share how we arrived at that point of querying and why I owe that little boy a vital lesson.

A grade 4 teacher and I were discussing whether we have no option but to tell the students what is, or whether we could extract the information from them. The debate got interesting and she stood her ground that we have to tell them. “Else, how will they know?” I was trying to give her a perspective of how we could extract from the students – a slower and lengthier process, though quite likely to lead to a deeper learning. She then proceeded to cite an example – “How would students possibly know the definition of a forest? I have to tell them that it is a collection of trees.” I kept pushing her to rethink that stance especially in matters that are common experience. I agree that defining terms like chromosomes, which are not visible to the naked eye nor are commonly discussed, would be a bit more arduous to derive from students (although I have guided students to actually name monomers and polymers). Nevertheless, I prefer to nudge teachers into thinking if everything needs to come from the book. This, in my opinion, creates a damaging pattern of exalting all knowledge and expertise to the tome. I believe that the text is merely one of the means of knowing what there is to know.

When the debate reached a stalemate, I offered to demonstrate my point in class. I even offered to make it more challenging by taking it two grades lower. In addition to the topic not being at their grade level, they were also not prepared or exposed to sessions on this topic. Seemed like the right testing ground for this perspective’s validity. We rushed down to grade 2.

My favourite testing ground is grade 2. Even for trying methods for teaching calculus. They are past the stage of not being familiar with the language and are still bright and open to the many experiments by “Anand sir”. Our school, Purkal Youth Development Society, exclusively caters to the bright and deserving children of Uttarakhand hailing from families that are below the poverty line. These children are provided complete nurturing care (free of cost), including an education, so that they are empowered to carve their own path out of poverty. With such a demographic, grade 1 helps, amongst other things, in bringing them beyond the hump of ESL impediments.

While walking to the class I assembled and sequenced the questions I would ask the students. I walked into the class and the students jumped up to greet us. They, perhaps, sensed something interesting in the offing. I shall lay down the sequence of interactions to help the reader appreciate Anuj’s response, shared at the outset.

I began by asking all of them – “Who has been to or seen a forest?” We have the advantage of being located in the hills of Uttarakhand. Most hands went up. I asked the students who didn’t raise their hands whether they had never heard of the term. They said they had, but hadn’t been to one. Their friends were quick to share with them the various locations around their villages which had forests. Those students quickly corrected their stance and declared that they have seen forests but didn’t realize I was referring to them. Speak of nature being taken for granted!

I then asked them all to stand up.

“Close your eyes. Imagine you are in a forest. You keep walking through this forest for a while. Perhaps, you hear things. Perhaps, you smell things. Perhaps, you feel things against your hands, legs and face. You continue walking. Let us all walk in our place. Yes, like that. No opening your eyes. Then you suddenly stop”.

They all halted their stomping. I was careful in not priming them about what a forest might contain.

“You put your hand out in front of you and grab the first thing you can. Bring your fist close to your chest. Open your fist and what do you see?”

Technically, this was my second question to the class. The first child exclaimed, “A leaf”.
“Good. A leaf.” I noted it down on the board.
“Sir, a branch.”
“Good. A branch.” I noted it down on the board.
“Sir, a feather.”
“Good. A feather.” Many similar objects – flowers, pebbles, wood, insects, birds, etc., were shared before a boy boldly shared his find.
“Sir, a rhinoceros!”
“My! Those are some big hands you have!” I noted it down on the board. The students began giggling and continued to share.
“Sir, a dragon!”

“Good. A dragon.” Another child interjected to state that dragons don’t exist and therefore his find was not possible. I rushed to clarify that what he imagines is his right. Maybe his forest did have a dragon. Soon, the entire class had shared their finds and the board carried 20-25 items that these students had imagined they had found. It was time to move on to the third question.

“Good. So we have all these possible items. Now, using these if you had to tell someone what a forest is, what would you say? Please write it down in your notebooks.”

They had three minutes to draw their definition. After the stipulated time, they began sharing their words. Ranging from “A forest is a large place where there are many trees, birds and animals” to “A forest is a beautiful place where trees and plants grow naturally with many kinds of birds, animals, insects, rivers and sunlight, where I feel peaceful.” We received all kinds of definitions. All of them far richer than “A forest is a collection of trees”.

While my point was demonstrated, I had to ensure that this was not surface understanding.

“Excellent work. Now let me randomly pick a definition. Roll number 15?”
“Yes, sir?”
“What was your definition?”
“Sir, a forest is a place with many trees, flowers, animals and birds”.
“Let us use this definition. If I used this definition, then the litchi orchard on the way to school should also be called a forest. It has litchi trees and there are monkeys and birds in it. But would you all consider the litchi orchard a forest?”
A collective resounding “No” ensued. This was my fourth question.
“Ok. Then how would you differentiate an orchard from a forest?”

I was mentally gearing myself for answers around wild growth and the space being unmanaged, etc. I was expecting something about types of trees. I was clearly slipping into the conventional mode of predefining what I should receive as a response. This, nearly always, is what precedes the teacher classifying responses as “right” or “wrong”. Anuj helped me realize and confront that in me. The response from a few students revealed that while they were clear in their minds, they were struggling to find the right words to express. They spoke about the same kind of trees being a criterion for differentiating. They also offered ideas which I pointed might be there in both forests and orchards.

Anuj raised his hand and said, “Sir, I have three ways of differentiating between forests and orchards”. I was wondering what new thing he might have to offer.

“Sir, firstly, I will walk around and if I meet people within a few minutes, it is an orchard, else, it is a forest. There has to be someone there to mind an orchard, right!?”

All the students burst out laughing. This reasoning had nothing to do with the trees or the geography of the spaces. I was shaken out of my expectation.

“I think that is a fair point. I will admit it. Next?”

“Sir, I will take out my father’s mobile phone. If there is a mobile signal, then I am in an orchard else I am in a forest!”

Even I joined the students in laughing, this time. I was laughing at myself for not having thought of these methods of differentiation.

“Brilliant idea, Anuj. Very well thought out.”

He then shared his third idea and we concluded our discussion in class. While I always encouraged students to think laterally, this was an amazing lesson for me. Till then I suffered from the same problem of assuming I know more than the students. I definitely was open to knowing more but there is a difference between subscribing to that belief and viscerally being one with that belief. Anuj, my little teacher, taught me how to recognize that gap in me. Since then, I have been working diligently to transform that urge in me to ask with an expected response in mind. I am constantly pushing myself to receive wholly. Maybe I will celebrate this year’s Teacher’s Day with him.

The author was reborn as a teacher after spending nearly 15 years as a computer scientist and engineer. Now he spends his time in the hills near Dehradun getting children excited about learning deep and wide. As the Dean of Academics at Purkal Youth Development Society, he is working towards growing a richer learning ecosystem. He can be reached at anand@purkal.org.