Issue 14 || 2010


How would you, if you had a son here or a daughter, you want to educate them, or bring about a holistic life? You’ve got so many students here, capable, intelligent—at least some of them—and would you bring about, through what means, through what kind of attitude, what kind of verbal explanation, would you go through to educate a holistic way of living? That is what I am proposing.

The river is flowing steadily, deep and wide, but this pool is heavy with scum because it is not connected with the life of the river, and there are no fish in it. It is a stagnant pool, and the deep river, full of life and vitality, flows swiftly along.

Anyone who is aware of the state of the world will recognize that we are at a point in human history where we are facing unprecedented challenges. Wars are raging, some of which are genocidal in nature. The threat of nuclear war has become imminent with the advent of authoritarian regimes all over the world.

I have often wondered what it truly means to learn with children: if it is about absorbing their experiences and delighting in the candour of their unfiltered utterances, if it is being open to the newness of their ideas, if it is about being fully present in their journeys, or if it is something a little more and a little personal perhaps?

A decade ago, when I stepped into Rajghat Besant School, I was awestruck by the vastness of the space. There was something very alluring about the campus. As I began my journey in teaching, many questions have arisen in my mind related to the ambience of the place.

The central idea of visible thinking is simple: making thinking visible. The vast majority of what we think is hidden. It stays in our heads, and we only articulate a small portion of it, a portion that even we, sometimes, are unclear about. 

I begin the school year with my third graders by spending time developing their growth mindset, creating a culture around math where mistakes are celebrated, and where struggle and hard work are valued over getting things ‘right’. Once this has been established, then I know we will go far with our math learning.

How do we describe a language? A language, as it is often characterized, is a means for communication. But does it really stop there? To me, a language we know and speak is also several layers of fragrant memories packed together.

As a teacher in a fully residential school, I’ve had countless opportunities to engage with both teachers and students, whether on the playground or in the classroom. These interactions have ranged from light-hearted banter to profound, meaningful discussions. Yet, regardless of the nature of these conversations—or their stakes—I’ve often found myself unable to articulate more than half of what was swirling in my mind or heart. 

As teachers and house parents, we observe on a daily basis words and actions that indicate sensitivity, intelligence, fellowship, kindness, conviviality, respect, humour, responsibility, creativity, thoughtfulness and so on. At the same time, we observe insensitivity, rudeness, arrogance, harassment, bullying, timidity, dominance, judgement, envy, jealousy, disrespect, mocking, and abusive language.

When the Indian men’s team won the T20 cricket World Cup in June 2024, there was a great outpouring of emotion from Indian players and fans alike. There was the joy following a hard-earned triumph, obviously, but there was also the relief that India had finally won a global trophy after coming close on several occasions in recent times.

Parenting is one of the most significant responsibilities that a person can take on. It involves raising another human being with the right value systems so that the child can become a responsible individual in society.

Over the past six years, I’ve had the joy (and occasional experience of chaos) of working closely with middle school students. It’s a rollercoaster phase in their lives—packed with changes, emotions, and moments of self-discovery.

Often, it so happens that the things we do and the subjects we teach are compartmentalized into physics and geography, art and history and chemistry. We forget that Watson and Crick may not have won the race against Pauling to crack the structure of DNA, if Rosalind Franklin (and her excellent X-ray crystallography work) had not been in the vicinity! 

To be whole, I believe, is a fundamental yearning in each of us. What does this mean? And how does this urge arise and seek expression in my life? What does this have to do with education, with learning? I briefly explore these questions.

I find myself often torn between two or more alternatives. Whether to tell a person what I think or not, whether to work or read a book or check my mail, whether to take a bus or a taxi. The feeling is one of being fragmented, as if there are multiple ‘selves’ putting forward their case for what should happen.

Many faiths advocate the purging of passions to attain the whole. However, I favour the Cherokee tale which teaches you to navigate your passions instead of avoiding them, however turbulent they may be. Only by understanding the turbulence can one attain balance. Being whole is then mostly a balancing act.

There is a longing to be whole, to be at rest inwardly, free of contradiction. But is this wholeness one more idea in the flow of our consciousness, an idea which actually keeps us fixed in the loop of restless searching for wholeness?

As I walk past the banyan tree, in what would be a part of a diurnal routine, I decide to sit down. Class 12 music practicals is on; the music wafting through the whole of the Art Village, alongside the beautiful winter morning weather, makes it all seem dreamy.

What enables learning? When there is a natural rhythm or flow to life there may be a conducive environment for learning. What then is a natural rhythm in the context of living our daily lives?

oming from a research background to teaching, I find one of the most notable aspects of Pathashaala to be its emphasis on project-based learning— where students gain hands-on experience with academic concepts, making learning a deeply immersive process.

As schoolteachers we are often looking to create learning contexts that draw from real world situations, not just simulations of them, or even abstract learning left to extrapolation with examples in the classroom. It therefore makes sense to have flexible institutional structures and a curricular framework to accommodate such planned learning experiences.

 Entering the main gate of the college with apprehension and anticipation, they soon discover a strange familiarity and connection with this place. They get a taste of freedom in their movement, attire, and space. It is a stepping-stone to explore what it is that they really want in life. 

Sholai School, in Tamil Nadu, is an education centre inspired by Krishnamurti’s philosophy. In this interview, Alok Mathur queries its founder, Brian Jenkins, on the origins of the centre and different facets of its educational intent and practices.

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