Every week, each of us fellows teaches at three different schools. The railway school, where all three of us spend the most time, feels unique in many ways – for one, it is the only school where the students can actually (almost) understand our language. And even then, there is certainly a lot that is lost in translation. In the other two schools where I teach, New Nallagutta and Audiah Memorial, I have actually been teaching my classes in Telugu. I grew up speaking Telugu at home with my family, but teaching a two hour class where I have to catch teenage slang and correct written essays and stay witty and with it the entire time, that is certainly a huge challenge. But after three weeks at New Nallagutta and Audiah Memorial, I have found that the struggle to understand them in Telugu has certainly been worth it. For one, it’s a relief to note that the only person who ever looks dazed and confused at the end of a class is me!

At Audiah Memorial, in addition to learning about photography and storytelling, we have been setting aside a little bit of time every class for an ongoing debate regarding the different chances of success for boys and girls studying in India. The class was divided into three groups, each of which was assigned an argument . I have hardly been able to contain their excitement, the kids have so much to say about the topic and they have all really embraced the side they were assigned with strong arguments and stronger passions. In the early phases of the discussion, when the groups were discussing the issue amongst themselves, it was interesting to note that in every group, the girls began by asserting that there were equal opportunities for success while the boys took to explaining the ways in which girls may not have as much opportunity. The girls seemed to need some prodding before they were willing to set aside all of the encouraging statements they had heard about equality and to actually think about the world they observed around them. For the boys, on the other hand, the reality of the matter seemed to be much more readily on their minds. I would have imagined it would be the girls to have the issue on their minds, and I wonder whether the difference may be due to a tendency at home to discuss such issues with boys but not girls. I will prod the students for more details on this and report back. For now, I am trying to get them to follow some debating etiquette so I can actually hear what they have to say!

Such experiences seem to indicate that language is a huge consideration when thinking about the kids’ education and output. Quite apparently, the use of English, which is a third language for most of these children, is a significant limitation on what they can say and what they dare attempt to say. But almost more inhibiting seems to be another language problem, their unfamiliarity with the language of self-expression – in any language. At railway one day, in the course of explaining some assignment, Stella and I used the verb “to experience.” Unsurprisingly, the girls didn’t know what it meant, so I resorted to our normal solution – I translated into Telugu. But what I did find surprising was that the girls still didn’t know what the word meant. When the language needed for reflection and expression appears so foreign to the students in their first language, it is no wonder that such activities are a struggle in their third. Hopefully, the little victories of today will turn into giant leaps six months from now.