The National Education Policy Has a Grand Vision but Can’t See Its Own Feet

The New Education Policy has presented a grand vision document on schooling that does not relate to the ground reality of either the children or the state.

A national policy that has been six years in the making, and has come after a long gap of 34 years, has a lot of expectations riding on it. The Kasturirangan Committee that drafted the policy no doubt took on the task with sincerity and good intent, and there is much in the document that must be welcomed, especially in terms of its desire to strengthen the public education system, widen the scope of learning to include non-cognitive skills, keep equity and social justice at the foreground of change, and bring in flexibility and decentralised administration with an increased role for local actors.

Unfortunately, the draft approved by the Cabinet on July 29 falls short on some very basic counts, which put the intentions of the drafters to test. In particular, it leaves a lot to the imagination – especially on account of implementation and funding strategies, and is filled with contradictory statements that take away from its core assumptions and intent.

Meaning of ‘revamping governance’

The stated aim of the policy is “to have an education system that ensures equitable access to the highest-quality education for all learners regardless of social and economic background,” for which it “proposes the revision and revamping of all aspects of the education structure, including its regulation and governance.” (p. 3). However, nowhere in the document does it elaborate on what it means by revamping the education structure or its governance – or how it proposes to do so. In fact, radical reform is required in the governance architecture that has failed to deliver quality education to large sections of the population.

The system of school education consists of an entire bureaucracy – from the central Human Resource Development ministry (now renamed as the Education ministry) to state education departments, district and block education offices and the structures of the Samagra Shiksha Abhiyan, including block and cluster resource coordinators. All of these together are responsible for the delivery of school education as well as its regulation. Quality is determined by the coordinated functioning of all aspects of this system. However, the policy refers to the system solely in the context of separating the regulatory and implementation functions, suggesting that governance revamp in the policy amounts to this separation alone.

This is surprising as it is widely acknowledged that state capacity for implementation is highly deficient on all fronts – human, physical and financial – resulting in failures at multiple levels of functioning, from planning processes to classroom practices and learning outcomes. The regulatory function is the least emphasised among the functions performed by the education bureaucracy. And while assigning it to an independent body may be a good idea, that alone will not fix the implementation problems.

In effect, the draft sidesteps the implementation and the  linked resource challenge, and instead recommends parallel non-state structures as the solution – a trend that has been in practice for several years now. This policy has given that trend a further boost by adding a host of ‘independent’ structures that have been given responsibility for different aspects of governance. The Rashtriya Shiksha Ayog is proposed for policy formulation, State Schools Standards Authority for regulation, and a programme of volunteer tutors for academic support.  The role of the current education bureaucracy is thus vastly reduced and many important tasks such as bringing ‘out of school’ children into school, providing them with ‘remedial’ learning, ensuring they are mainstreamed into schools, tracking them and developing and maintaining a database of ‘out of school’ children has been placed on the shoulders of volunteers.

Encouraging volunteerism is indeed a positive aim but the responsibility for critical and challenging tasks must lie squarely with the state. Besides, public accountability of non-state actors or bodies remains a contentious issue. Hence, though the policy purports to promote public education, public offices and officers are sidelined and private and civil society actors asked to step in and do the job of the state.

Internal contradictions

The second issue that emerges on a closer reading of the policy is the numerous internal contradictions. For example, strict norms and standards for teacher education appear along with relaxation of norms for schools. Hence, pathshala, gurukul, madarsa, home-schooling are being encouraged – even as all teachers are to be trained in a highly standardised manner. Will teachers trained thus be able to teach in all these types of schools? How will learning standards be assessed in different models of schooling, especially when all schools are expected to follow the same norms and when assessments have become the cornerstone of education policy?

Further, while a full complement of infrastructure is recommended for all schools, there is also a denigration of ‘inputs’ and hence the encouragement of flexible models where infrastructure may be of less than the desired standard. As a justification for encouraging such flexible school models, the draft contends that inclusion, access, learning standards be the requirement for schools, not inputs. A question then arises: Do pathshala, gurukul and madarsa represent inclusion and access to all? Do they even meet the learning standards?

Even though much of the responsibility for learning has been put on teachers, the confusion related to them continues in the proposal for filling vacancies. Here one teacher per class/grade is mentioned along with 1:30 pupil-teacher ratio (PTR) per school. One teacher per class is not the same as one teacher per grade, and certainly not the same as 1:30 PTR per school. So which is it to be? The 1:30 PTR per school – a requirement of the Right to Education – has resulted in single and double teacher schools severely impacting quality of learning. It would have been a huge step forward in addressing the ‘learning crisis’ if the policy had unequivocally advocated for one teacher per grade.

Another area of confusion that runs through the document relates to the twin objectives of serving the global and the local. For example, the document makes many references to global studies, practices, globalisation, knowledge economy, etc., and at the same time it is very forceful in its claims of being “India-centred.” While this sounds unproblematic, it is riddled with pitfalls. Statements that speak of the need to bring change in “an Indian manner and style” (p. 4), aiming to build a system that is “rooted in Indian ethos” (p. 5), using “ancient Indian knowledge” as the “guiding light of the policy” (p. 4) raise red flags about what an ‘Indian ethos’ means or what the ‘ancient Indian knowledge’ in question is. It is particularly troubling when the only ancient scholars mentioned belong to the majority community, ignoring the contributions made by several others.

In a country as diverse as India, talking about a single Indian ethos fuels fears of cultural domination and centralisation. While none of this may be the intention of the committee, being mindful of the realities was part of their responsibility. In fact, the impetus for centralisation also adds fuel to this fire. For instance, the paramount role given to the National Council of Educational Research and Training in all areas of curriculum design and pedagogy, even as the document pays lip service to State Councils of Educational Research and Training, school complexes, school leaders and teachers in developing curriculum frames and pedagogical practices, is one such example.

Drafting an education policy after more than three decades is no mean task, especially when vast changes have taken place, not just in the exponential demand from marginalised sections of the population but also of supply as non-state actors occupy larger spaces in education provision. The real challenge for the drafters was how they could address the diverse and expanded needs of the people through state-action, keeping quality, equity and rights at the forefront. Instead, it has presented a grand vision document that scarcely relates to the ground reality of either the children or the state.

How it will serve as a template for the much-needed revamp of the education sector is hard to see, at least in the direction of improving the quality of public schooling for all.

Kiran Bhatty is a senior fellow at the Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi, specialising in education. She was formerly with NCPCR, charged with implementing the Right to Education.

South Africa’s Reading Crisis Is a Cognitive Adversity

Every year South Africans spend twice as much on chocolate than they do on books.

Every year South Africans spend twice as much on chocolate than they do on books.

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South Africa needs to build a reading culture. Credit: UN Photo/P Mugabane/Flickr

When the late Black Consciousness leader Steve Biko published his seminal book, “I write what I like”, in 1978 it wasn’t about individual self-expression or even self-indulgence. It was a political statement with its origins in the work of Brazilian adult literacy activist Paulo Freire.

Freire identified the profound connection between reading, understanding the world and so being able to change it. Half a century after Biko was murdered by South Africa’s apartheid state, his country is no nearer being able to do this.

Instead, many of the country’s children are struggling to read at all. That’s according to the results of the international PIRLS 2016 literacy tests on nearly 13 000 South African school children. These showed that 78% of grade four children cannot read for meaning in any language. South Africa scored last of the 50 countries tested. Also worrying was that there were no signs of improvement over the last five years. In fact, in the case of the boys who were tested, the situation may have worsened.

A few weeks before these results were released, another study had found that 27% of children under five in the country suffer from stunting and that their brains are not developing as they should. Damage like this is largely irreversible. It leads to low school achievement and work productivity – and so to ongoing poverty.

These truly disadvantaged children are those of the poor; the 25% of South Africa’s population who live in extreme poverty. Given their dreadful circumstances, it might be understandable that 25% of children might not succeed in learning to read. But 78%? There has to be another explanation for that.

There are indeed reasons. They range from the absence of a reading culture among adult South Africans to the dearth of school libraries allied to the high cost of books and lastly to the low quality of training for teachers of reading.

No reading culture and bad teaching

Part of South Africa’s reading catastrophe is cultural. Most parents don’t read to their children many because they themselves are not literate and because there are very few cheap children’s books in African languages (and it must be remembered that English is a minority home language in South Africa).

But reading at home also doesn’t happen at the highest levels of middle class society and the new elite either. It’s treated as a lower order activity that’s uncool, nerdy and unpopular. And it’s not a spending priority. South Africans spend twice as much on chocolate each year than they do on books.

The situation doesn’t improve at school. Until provincial education departments ensure that every school has a simple library and that children have access to cheap suitable books in their own mother tongues, South Africa cannot be seen as serious about the teaching of reading.

Another problem lies with the fact that reading is taught badly. South Africa closed down its teacher training colleges between 1994 and 2000. This was done ostensibly to improve the quality of teacher education by making it the sole responsibility of universities. It backfired.

Previously, universities used to teach mainly high school teachers. Now they were expected to train foundation level teachers of the first three school grades. It was an area university’s education departments knew little about. They also inevitably incorporated only those training college educators who had postgraduate degrees. Sadly, these people generally had no great interest in the grunt work of teaching little children to read. So foundation level teacher training at universities is often a disaster.

There’s been some attempt to address this bungle. The latest of them is the Department of Higher Education and Training’s Primary Teacher Education project.

The teacher training curriculum is also problematic. Most teaching about reading instruction in South Africa’s universities is outdated. Faculties of education appear to have largely ignored modern scientific advances in understanding how reading happens.

What the science says

Over the last three decades cognitive neuroscience has clarified and resolved a number of debates about reading. It has been proven beyond doubt that reading – becoming literate – alters the brain.

Learning the visual representation of language and the rules for matching sounds and letters develops new language processing possibilities. It reinforces and modifies certain fundamental abilities, such as verbal and visual memory and other crucial skills. It influences the pathways used by the brain for problem-solving.

Failing to learn to read is bad for the cognition necessary to function effectively in a modern society. The inability of South Africa to teach children to read, then, leads to another type of stunting: one that is as drastic as its physical counterpart.

The ConversationThe country now has generations who have been cognitively stunted because of a massive failure in its culture and educational provision. All South Africans are implicated if they don’t do their utmost to help people learn to read.

John Aitchison, Professor Emeritus of Adult Education, University of KwaZulu-Natal

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Welcome to Meghshala, the School on the Cloud

Meghshala creates engaging lessons adhering to the national syllabus, uploads them into the cloud and has teachers invoke them in classrooms using tablets and handheld projectors.

Meghshala creates engaging lessons adhering to the national syllabus, uploads them into the cloud and has teachers invoke them in classrooms using tablets and handheld projectors.

A class in session using one of Meghshala's Teachkits. Credit: Meghshala Trust

A class in session using one of Meghshala’s Teachkits. Credit: Meghshala Trust

Conventional parenting wisdom asks us to keep children away from gadgets, especially phones and tablets. But sometimes a tablet can do wonders and actually go a long way in educating a child. Ask the young, dedicated team that works with the Bengaluru-based social education startup Meghshala. They will tell you how their tablet-based ‘teach kits’ have gone a long way in making lessons interactive and stimulating for many government-school students across the city and surrounding rural areas.

At the GHPS Nagasandra, a government-run school near Peenya, outside Bengaluru, the eighth graders are attending a commerce and mathematics class, getting a lesson in value added tax (VAT). What makes this lesson different from the standard chapter in the Karnataka SSC curriculum is its execution. It’s being taught with the help of one of Meghshala’s multimedia kits, and it takes the learning level several notches higher.

Meghshala is a not-for-profit trust based on a learning management system called CloodOn; the whole thing is hosted in the cloud. The trust was founded by former physics and math teacher Jyoti Thyagarajan and tech-entrepreneur Sridhar Ranganathan. Meghshala (Hindi for ‘school on a cloud’) trains teachers in government schools across Bengaluru’s urban and rural areas to facilitate better learning and enhance classroom experiences through its teaching tools.

Its secret sauce is the Teachkit. Each of these kits is written by a ‘master teacher’ in its team in an effort to “bring thoughtful pedagogy to the curriculum,” as Thyagarajan put it. These come packed with content that includes videos, class activities, fun examples and questions designed to make students think out of the box and understand concepts better.

The Teachkits are uploaded to the cloud and downloaded from there into individual teachers’ tablets, and then used in the classroom through handheld projectors. Meghshala accesses these two pieces of hardware from retail suppliers.

How it works

Meghshala’s lessons follow the national curriculum and are divided into individual subjects that are further split into units. Each unit comprises lessons that are uploaded to CloodOn. “It helps the teachers that our content exactly follows the textbook, so if chapter 8 is on perimeters, our content will also be the same,” according to Prasanth Nori, an implementation manager with the Meghshala Trust. “The chief difference is that our content has been enhanced, tweaked and twisted around with examples, questions, images and illustrations.”

Teachers access a Teachkit on their tablets and then project a lesson on the blackboard or a wall. Meghshala conducts training sessions for them to figure out how best to use these lessons in their classes. According to the software’s creators, there’s a lot of work put into the back-end to maximise the lessons’ usability and impact. The team tracks how each teacher uses the app when she logs on, and are also constantly analysing the data to understand patterns that could help improve lesson effectiveness and efficacy.

For example, the average hours of usage per teacher has risen from 3.2 in July 2016 to 5.4 in January 2017 – except during October and, when exams are commonly conducted and have limited instructional days.

Government schools have been provided with teaching tech earlier but Meghshala has been able to cut ahead because it has made a point of handholding users through its Teachkits, at least during the initial phase. Members of the organisation regularly visit schools to observe the Teachkits being used in real-time, and make themselves available to the headmasters and teachers who use them for support.

A fair amount of thought also goes into the user interface and experience. The visit to GHPS Nagasandra is an observation day for Nikita Biyani, a designer and editor with Meghshala. She’s there to see if the overall design of the lesson, from illustrations to the colours used, actually works in the classroom.

Meghshala Trust is part of Thyagarajan’s dream to enable education for all – especially in the rural areas. According to the Annual Status of Education Report 2014, half of all children in rural India who have completed eight years of schooling still haven’t learned basic arithmetic, just to quote one dismal instance.

That her impact as a teacher could’ve been more struck Thyagarajan when she was nearing retirement. “I’ve always worked in elite schools – Mallya Aditi, Stonehill International School and in schools overseas – and over the course of 35 years [might have] graduated 600 children. And I thought to myself, I’m known to be a good teacher. I should be teaching more kids!”

Thyagarajan then found a solution to the question of reach in the platform developed by Ranganathan, whom she met at an education conference. “We are talking 60 million kids out there and the only way we can scale it up and educate everyone is through technology,” she said. Empowering and training teachers to bring innovative learning methods to increase student participation and retention remains the most viable solution.

Credit: Meghshala Trust

Credit: Meghshala Trust

Of course, it helps to have an enthusiastic team by her side, and the one at Meghshala is young. Many of them, like Nori, have worked in the Teach For India programme, and bring insights about the Indian education system relevant to the bottom of the pyramid. They also have a passion for teaching.

The idea in action

Over the little-over-two years for which Meghshala has been around, it has managed to reach 130 schools across urban and rural areas around Bengaluru as well as other parts of Karnataka. The app – a free product for teachers – currently has more than 300 users, which shows that interest has only been peaking. “It’s a prestige issue for the teachers as well, knowing they have access to newer ideas and tools,” Nori pointed out, adding that “a whole bunch of teachers have even gone and bought their own tablets to access the app.”

The teachers for Meghshala are selected based on the team’s interactions with the block education officer. Sometimes, the teachers surprise the team with their ability to think beyond the usual, to push the technological envelope further. Thyagarajan mentioned a teacher who used the Teachkit to increase student participation in class thus: “She clicked a picture of the student’s work, projected it on the board and asked the student to share and explain his work with the class. It’s an amazing way to keep the students engaged.”

Access to the ‘best practices’ of teaching – such as including graphic aids to help students organise their thinking – packed into the Teachkits has helped teachers create an engaging classroom environment and also upgrade their own skills, despite the initial challenges in adapting to them. Recently, one teacher explained the concept of constellations by downloading a video about the universe, putting it on the tab and starting the lesson with it – instead of simply reading from the textbook as usual. This was after attending a few of Meghshala’s training sessions where she saw others put the tablet to creative use. It was a significant change in mindset.

The Teachkits have enabled a demonstrably greater level of teacher involvement. Tara K., who teaches at GHPS Nagasandra and has been a government schoolteacher for a decade, has a fairly positive assessment of its lesson plans, which even come with a time distribution to make it helpful for the teachers using them. “The addition of videos make it interesting and motivational for the students, especially in understanding science concepts such as friction, atom and molecules, life on Earth, etc. Otherwise these classes can get monotonous. The group activities are good as even children in the last benches tend to pay attention and get involved.”

The school’s headmaster, H.R. Kodanda Ram, said the Teachkits have reduced the burden on the teacher: “They are more creative and visual, keeping the children engaged in class.”

Making it work

The startup operates in rural areas of Karnataka like Koppal, Balpa, Mudhol and Raichur. In Raichur, they’re partnered with an NGO.

Is there a difference in the acceptance and usage of the Teachkits in rural and urban areas? Surprisingly, yes. According to the team, Meghshala’s intervention finds greater and faster acceptance in rural areas, where access to extra resources is limited. The schools they visit are also supported by other partner organisations that help in better implementation. Thyagarajan thinks many government schools in the city suffer from ‘NGO fatigue’, adding, “Village schools, on the other hand, are delighted when Meghshala walks into their school to help teachers teach better.”

Their monthly operating cost is Rs 12 lakh, sometimes more. “It is primarily funded by the Tata Trust. Other revenue sources are primarily CSR funds, with some companies like T.T.K. being exceptionally generous,” according to Thyagarajan. She also hopes that, in the future, “the state governments will pay for the implementation through their budget item for the year’s teacher training.”

Its success is owed to its team’s projecting Meghshala as more than just content for teachers. It was recently named among the top 20 of the all-India MEA-NITI Aayog Social Innovation Contest, organised by the Ministry of External Affairs. In March 2017, the team was invited to talk to the Ministry of Human Resource Development about entering as many states in India as possible. As of now, they are already in talks with three state governments, quite helpful considering their goal is to reach 100,000 teachers by 2020.

The hope is that an innovative solution like the one offered by Meghshala will help turn around poor attendance figures, equally poor comprehension levels and higher-than-desirable dropout rates gradually. The platform is also an example of how tech innovations can be harnessed for the greater good and help children get access to quality education – which should ideally be a basic right for all.

Reshmi Chakraborty is a freelance writer. She is interested in stories of innovation and change across various areas.