Daily Updates
5
Sep

Watch Out Ramoji: The West Marredpally Girls are Ready to Take Over

Did you know that India is the world’s largest producer of films?  Or that, as a matter of fact, Hyderabad is home to the second largest film industry in the country?  Not to mention we’ve got Ramoji Film City, the world’s largest film production facility and the world’s largest 3D IMAX Screen, which, not surprisingly, is also the world’s most attended screen.

What I’m trying to say is: movies are a really big deal here and film has proven to be an easy conversation starter with my students.  My class at West Marredpally was perhaps the most enthusiastic, though; the students launched into vivid mile- a-minute descriptions of their favorite Blockbusters without any prodding.  They were eager to get started on the behind the scenes work as well.  I can’t quite remember how exactly it came up but at some point I asked them how many of their favorite movies featured heroines or had a girl playing a pivotal role.  When that failed to elicit any raised hands I asked how many movies that fit that description they could think of.  We ended up with just a handful of examples I asked them why they thought that was.  They were quick to answer that people don’t want to make “those types of movies.”  I asked them why that was.
“They wouldn’t make money because there would be no one to see them.”
“Why?”
“Most women work too much to go to the movies.”

I pressed them on why they thought only women would go to see movies about heroines.
“Men would not be interested to see them.”
Again, “Why?”

The conversation was at times thrilling, at times exhausting and definitely a challenge for all of us but we eventually got ourselves right to the center of the vortex we were struggling to define.  The students realized that many filmmakers and moviegoers operate under (and the former therefore perpetuate) the same assumption that women make less capable, less complex, less convincing, and therefore, less lucrative heroines or even principle characters.

Then, these cross-legged, wide eyed soon-to-be directors and writers and actresses and camerawomen and editors decided that they could try and convince folks to produce movies about women and girls- and what better way to do it than by making one of their own?

Over the next few weeks we talked about all of the reasons that common assumptions about women and girls are false.  We talked about ourselves and told stories about moments in our lives that we’re proud of.  Hema Prabha is only twelve but she can speak seven languages.  M. Swathi is a great cook.  Devi tells gripping stories.  Hemalela aced all of her exams.  Swathi is a talented runner.  They told me about all of the women they admire.  To help bridge the language divide, I borrowed a move from Hyderabad for Feminism and had them scrawl their thoughts on whiteboards in English or Telugu and take photos of these alongside their action shots.  Finally, they recorded their voiceover, picked a powerful instrumental song to accompany, honed their editing skills and here’s what we came up with:

Our Stories Are Important- W. Marredpally from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

Around the time we were starting post-production, an article entitled “I Hate Strong Female Characters,” was published.  I was reluctant to read it at first, too, but the basic argument is this:

“Sherlock Holmes gets to be brilliant, solitary, abrasive, Bohemian, whimsical, brave, sad, manipulative, neurotic, vain, untidy, fastidious, artistic, courteous, rude, a polymath genius. Female characters get to be Strong.”

In their video the girls place equal value on the fact that they are physically strong as they do on the fact that they can cook, or that they value relationships, or that they’re sincere.  They get to be themselves, not faster, stronger, meaner, more butt-kicking but also more callous tropes of themselves.  I am so grateful for the conversations these students have allowed me to have with them and I can’t wait to see what fascinating characters they come up with as we embark on our first short fiction video.


That’s a Wrap!

We are so excited to be posting our first photostory!

One of the first assignments I gave my students at Seethaphalmandi was to bring in an object that was precious to them and share it with the class so that I could get to know them better.  The class implored me to do the same and, the next day, I obliged by bringing in a handful of postcards from my friends’ travels.  At first, the postcards were a simple tool to help explain the basics of creating a storyboard for a photostory.  I had my students shout out what they could infer about Portugal from an image of a white church next to a lighthouse, or Washington, D.C. from a shot of the capital building or Israel from a close-up of a decked out camel.  Then, I read the accompanying text aloud to demonstrate how even more can be gleaned from a detailed written description.  Immediately, the students began to reflect on their own surroundings and to quiz me on how much I was able to understand about the culture of Hyderabad based on what I had seen so far.  They wanted to know what my friends thought of India, what had I taught them.  One student asked: “Teacher, have you sent any postcards yet?

And thus, the idea for our digital postcard was born.

Many ideas were thrown out in that first brainstorming session and I really hope that we get a chance to return to some of them- but partly because these students are naturally inclined to be in front of the camera and the idea of dressing up at school was exciting and partly because of my inability to pronounce or spell any of the things I was wearing they decided first to educate the masses about traditional Indian dress.

Digital Postcard: Indian Dress from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

I wrote in an earlier post about creative confidence about our goals of serving more as facilitators than teachers, of actively listening more than we lecture, and of our desire to see students confidently share what they know and think and feel with us.  photo (1)And in this class my students really had no option but to muster that creative confidence (please refer back to my previously mentioned ignorance).  When we needed to write a scene identifying the pieces of a half saree or decide whether a photograph should be a portrait of one student or a group shot the students quickly realized that I wasn’t the one with the “right” answer- they were.  It was wonderful to watch them step up and be the experts that they are and it’s led to our classroom having a much more open and egalitarian feel.

On a typical Thursday I’ll come in and ask them about what’s happened in the city since the last time I saw them- it’s festival season so there’s almost always been something exciting.  One week, a Muslim student taught me as well as the Hindu and Christian students in the class about Eid.  The following week, I explained absurd and amazing spectacle that is Halloween.  And this past week, a student named Nityanand explained the upcoming Ganesha festival- he’s an expert and counts it as his favorite since it happens around his birthday.  I can’t wait to continue learning from and alongside these students, but I think we’ll start off this week with a mini celebratory festival of our own!

5
Sep

Brother Praneet

Praneet Reddy first approached The Modern Story in late June. He had just completed 10th class and was home in Hyderabad for the summer, looking for a valuable way to spend his time before pursuing his Higher Secondary School Certificate in Bangalore. He had discovered The Modern Story the way many people discover The Modern Story – through a chance encounter with our website – but took the extra step of contacting us directly and asking whether he could get involved.

Its a rare and wonderful step if you think about it –  the type of gesture that makes non-profit organizations such as The Modern Story possible. Ideas are only as powerful as the number of able bodied men and women to act upon them and doing so invites a certain leap of faith.  I cannot count the number of times I’ve stumbled across a web page for a cause whose work I admired, whose photographs I picked through, maybe whose newsletter I signed up for to give my time, eyes, and momentary attention. But it takes a special amount of courage, initiative, and character to send a cold e-mail and offer yourself. Praneet did this very thing and for six weeks, volunteered his creativity and English-to-Telugu translation abilities as a co-teacher at Audiah Memorial High School (during production of A Rainy Day photo story). We gratefully accepted, little knowing just how valuable he would be to our teaching and just how beloved he would become to our 15 students.

In the five weeks we had the pleasure of working with him, Praneet juggled a multitude of roles with steadfast calmness and  cheer. As a co-teacher, he muscled through every technical failure, every power outage, and every change in the lesson plan with patience. As a translator, he managed to digest our lengthy explanations into an abridged Telugu version faithful to (and often more articulate than) the English original, choosing those very words that would would bring a wave of comprehension across the faces of our Audiah students and draw our classroom back together.

Most importantly, Praneet was an unfailingly kind friend and role model for the students, answering questions, sharing stories, and alleviating any mental roadblocks so our lessons had traction. The early confidence he inspired in these fifteen students, both in the technical process and in themselves (“Yes, I can do this!”), has made all the difference in their long-term engagement. This is especially evident among our male students – Rahul, Rohit, Bhushan, Vinay, Asif, and Nagaraju – who sat resolutely in the back row the first two weeks of class, physically distant and distracted. Once Praneet became a regular fixture, this pattern broke down. The boys began to talk. To follow their curiosity and ask questions. To share. Rahul, who barely said a word and shied the camera, was a different person with Praneet in the room. The two of them huddled in quiet confidence was a common sight before class. These days, Rahul is among the most active and technologically savvy of our students, inseparable from Windows Movie Maker and endlessly curious. He continues the legacy of his former teacher and friend in ever question that he asks and every technology that he masters. Today we set up Rahul’s e-mail account and wouldn’t you know – Praneet was the first person he wanted to whom Rahul wished to address his very first message.

24
Jun

Railway Potential

Potential: The first word that comes to mind after a week of teaching Railway Class 8A. The girls have strong personalities, a willingness to learn and seemingly endless excitement. Perhaps even more importantly, our classes have already seen hints of the girls’ creativity come into play. This combination could lead to truly remarkable outcomes from the semester.  As the three of us navigate the newness of living and teaching in India, it occurred to me that these girls are simultaneously starting on their own journeys of discovery. We will both be faced with many challenges. As fellows, we seek to find ways to fall into step with the rhythm of Hyderabad and to develop our voices as teachers. At the same time, I especially hope that we can help the girls build their own sense of belonging in the digital world.

Our first three classes introduced photographs as sources of stories, the concept of matching words with pictures and the difference between subtitles and voiceovers. We integrated drawing exercises into each class. One girl drew Kelly and me in India:

Kelly and Dana in India

We appear to be saluting the Indian flag. This topic was not the assignment (we had asked them to draw a visual interpretation of a letter they had written for homework), but the drawing conjured all kinds of emotions in me. I was touched that Devipriya wanted to draw us and pleased that she gave us bindis and smiles. Mostly, I was curious about the salute. Is she hoping that we will come to love India? In a strange way, the drawing gave me a strong sense of humility. I’m so thankful to have a hand in contributing to the global education of these students. The next several months will be spent working to live up to both the legacy of past fellows and the sense of obligation to the students—who truly deserve a chance to raise their voices.

24
Jun

Kelly’s Railway Reflections

After one week in moderately hot and sporadically humid Hyderabad- Dana, Emily and I have finished with the formal introductions – to students, teachers, commute routes, and culture. We have been left with the template of characters and stages that will be the basis of the story we tell over the next six months as teaching fellows with the Modern Story. On a personal note, I am surprised at how familiar the idiosyncrasies of India feel to me this time around – from the traffic exemplifying the potential for order in chaos, to the startling variety of human experience co-inhabiting the space of the streets. Wealthy, poor, Hindu, Muslim, Christian- boundaries between self and other broken- beckoning the foreign eyes to recognize the meaning of the Namaste greeting, an honoring of the place in each of us where we are the same.

We will be carrying out the Modern Story curriculum at a total of five government schools. Thus far, we have only begun classes at the Railway Girls School located in the Secunderabad area of Hyderabad, and will begin at the other 4 this coming week. All three fellows teach at Railway School, and then the tasks are divided up between the remaining four- with Dana and Emily co-teaching at two, and myself teaching at another two, called Sultaan Bazar and MGM. Initially I was struck with the distinct personality each of these schools had, and impressed with the quality of the computer labs that the students have access to. The greatest challenge I anticipate of our duties for the next six months is overcoming the language barriers, and finding a way for the students to actualize their creative potential despite the hurdles of communication. I enter this journey in a recognition that I must expect the unexpected, and that each school will present its own unique difficulties, but ultimately, and hopefully, through this will come a variety of voices in the media projects of the students.


Reading over the ‘script’ of our introductory videos with the girls of the Railway class.

We are blessed with the help of two inspiring teaching assistants at the Railway School, named Asma and Neha. Dana and I, co-teaching, work with Asma, while Emily works with Neha. I am struck by the calm maturity of Asma in the classroom and as an individual. The strength and determination I see in her rings to an age well beyond her young years, and I feel so fortunate for the opportunity to work alongside her. There is a strong network of support at the Railway School, and a dedicated interest in the program from the staff, that has been helpful in assuaging the anxieties of our first days. I am quickly growing fond of the students, and find myself needing to consciously keep the walls of student-teacher erect when I get swept by the instinct to just befriend the wide-eyed and attentive group. I am hoping that we will be able to harness their energy and direct it through their passion in a specific topic to produce nice media projects together.

This week was spent introducing the students to the Modern Story curriculum and what is meant by digital storytelling. We set rules for the class, reminding us to respect each other, listen to each other, and to not be afraid to share our own voices. We are orienting towards two goals, the technical product aspect of the digital component – technological literacy, camera, and writing skills – as well as the empowerment that comes through the process of creativity. We began with the questions of ‘What is a Story?’ and encouraging the students to recognize that everyone is a storyteller and they, themselves, are the lead character of their own individual, unique stories. The following is a slideshow of the student’s drawings done in a classroom exercise to practice connecting words with images. I am interested in the study of religion, so it grabbed my attention when many of the students responded that the first thing they do when they wake up in the morning is pray to God, or the first thing they see is nature. The religious diversity of Hyderabad is dramatically visible, and I am wondering if there is potential for exploring the topic of religion more closely throughout our time together.

‘When I wake up in the morning, I always…’

As the sun sets on Sunday and thus the weekend,the three of us are anxious to see what the next week has in store for us. The journey continues…

Until next time,
Kelly

6
Dec

TMS Final Celebration

Yesterday we had the TMS final video showcase and celebration.  It definitely snuck up on us.  One second it was the beginning of November and time seemed like it was passing at a normal rate.  All of a sudden we blinked and here we are — two days away from leaving Hyderabad, our home of the last six months,  with holiday news from home trickling in as we get closer and closer to the new year.

 

 

TMS Final Celebration! from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

 

Reflecting on the last five months is a daunting task.  While we’ve accomplished a lot, Stella and I have discussed the mutual feeling that we could have done so much more.  Such is the nature of most work that comes with a definite end date — you are always left with the nagging reminder of all the ideas that didn’t materialize and realizations that things could have been done better or more efficiently.  With some time to process everything that’s gone on in the last month, I’m sure we all will come to see a clearer picture of our time here, and gain a sense of the impact of this truly unique and incredible experience that has been the last five months.  Right now though,  it just feels like a whirlwind.

That being said, the event itself was a great end-note to our semester.  For the first time we had students from all five TMS schools — Sultan Bazar, MGM, New Nallaguta, Audiah Memorial, and Railway — together in one room to share in the celebration.  We arrived and hour before the ceremony to find the auditorium filled with hyper, buzzing students who had just finished setting up the seating.  They were clearly glowing with excitement to showcase their work, and there was the tangible feeling that they were lingering after they had finished their work so that they could spend every possible moment together as a group before TMS came to an end.   My girls played dress up with me and stuffed me into a very bright, glittery saree to mark the momentous occasion.

The film screening was a huge success.  The students who have participated in the program produced videos on a wide variety of topics, from the future of our environment, to examining identity and gender roles, to the consequences of political agitation.  Not only did students discuss and examine these thought-provoking and important topics, but they had to approach them from unique angles and consider how they could present their views to an audience.  The results were truly inspiring.

We closed the ceremony by presenting each student with a certificate, individual evaluation, class photo, and (most importantly) American Halloween candy.  As Pabhaker closed out the ceremony and invited all the guests to a reception in the computer lab, it was clear that neither students nor teachers were ready to say goodbye.  We lingered awkwardly with the visiting schools, beaming at the students and repeatedly praising their work.  They smiled back almost pityingly, trying to reassure us that it would be ok.  It was clear that neither group wanted to leave.  Once we finally tore ourselves away from the auditorium, it took us nearly another hour to say farewell to the Railway students and the grounds that have come to feel like our second home.   All in all, it was a lovely end to what has been a tremendous experience and learning process for all those involved — both students and teachers alike.

1
Dec

News and Thoughts As We Near the Finish Line

It is absolutely unbelievable but it is somehow true – we have hit the beginning of the end of our stay in Hyderabad. We had our last classes at 4 of our schools yesterday, and we have two more classes at Railway before we are officially done teaching. The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind as we have been working up to our culminating event, the TMS Final Showcase to be held at the Railway Girls High School on Monday, December 5th. The event will feature short presentations by students from each of our 5 schools followed by screenings of their work. And we are also excited to host the founders and leaders of Vinoothna Geetha Media, a local production company, as well as representatives from the America India Foundation, as our Chief Guests for the event. It is the first time TMS has put together a final celebration of this magnitude, and we are thrilled to see how excited the students are for the event! We look forward to reporting back with many photos and videos, taken by the students of course!

Before we completely finished our jobs as teachers here, I did want to share a few thoughts on a topic that has repeatedly come up in our classrooms, our conversations, and our blog posts – language. India has 22 official languages listed its Constitution, and many more dialects. And language, as our students tell us, is a huge representation of identity. The language that each person speaks is a statement of their regional and/or religious and/or ethnic identity. The official language of Andhra Pradesh is Telugu but Muslims in Andhra Pradesh speak mostly Urdu and then ethnic Tulu people in Andhra Pradesh speak Tulu while many highly educated people only speak English with a native fluency. And each state has its own list of distinct languages that match its own unique make up of identities. So naturally, this becomes a problem for education, particularly in big cities where all of these different identity groups with their distinct mother tongues live side by side in the same school districts. Schools must ask, in what language should we teach? The solution in most areas is that government schools teach in different mediums. In Hyderabad, most schools will have each grade split into Telugu Medium, Urdu Medium, and English Medium sections. So then it is the students and families that must ask, in what language should we learn? Many choose English. Families hope that if their kid is studying in English from a young age, they will become fluent. And this is in a sense the most concrete effort they can make towards a bigger future for their kid. For one, English, possibly more than Hindi, is transferrable throughout India and definitely around the world. Knowing English gives students access to the world in a way that most of our students’ parents do not have. Additionally, most schools only teach 11th and 12th grade in English and college is almost exclusively taught in English, so if you hope to study beyond 10th grade, you would be well-advised to start Kindergarten in English.

So what’s the problem? Well, we have been teaching 8th and 9th grade students, many of whom have supposedly been studying in English medium for many years, and they all hover within a range of non-fluency in English. It leaves us wondering how they learn in their other classes. In my classes at AIF, which I teach in Telugu, I have a mixture of Telugu and English Medium students. I have often noticed a far better command of subject matter and sometimes even a higher level of confidence expressing ideas among the Telugu Medium students. After all, school and learning are tough, so naturally the students who get to go through it in their mother tongue would have a leg up. The English medium students just don’t get it all the time because they don’t understand the language the teacher is speaking. So this means that to some degree, students are having to choose between a better education in a language that limits their opportunities, and a better command of English with a quality of education that limits their opportunities. How frustrating that must be! I absolutely think students should learn English and become good at it. But in the long term, I think it should become possible and mainstream for students to study and become experts in any subject in their local language – if a kid is born in Andhra Pradesh to a family that only speaks Telugu and can’t afford private school, wants to attend school and study really hard and become expert in a subject, start a business in Hyderabad that deals only in this area and become successful, shouldn’t that be a possibility? Shouldn’t they be able to live their lives and be great in Telugu if they want to? After all, they do live in a place where Telugu is the official language, and the only language they ever hear. The British are responsible for many higher education institutions in India, which is partly why there is a widespread tradition of learning in English. But rather than being content with thinking this is appropriate in the modern world, I wonder if regional governments now have a responsibility to make a change?

26
Nov

Googlefest 2011

When I announced the Google field trip to our girls at Railway, they began to scream. Not anything in particular—no particular yelps of excitement—just one extended scream, as if our classroom had suddenly devolved into a Bacchic frenzy. But we didn’t blame them. We’d visited the Google office in Hyderabad once before, and it seemed, in my eyes, to be a veritable playhouse for geniuses—snack bars and pool tables and caroms stations on every floor, laundry services, spa rooms, napping pods, a gourmet cafeteria, and some of the most innovative minds in the modern tech industry. We were pretty excited for the trip ourselves.

Queueing up at Railway for the Google buses.

I asked the girls to write down questions about Google for homework. They came back with “Who invented the internet?” and “Is Google a person or a company?”

“The girls just don’t understand what the internet is,” I complained to Sam. “I mean, not what it is, but what it really is.”

“Well, yeah, but…”  Sam looked at me. “Do you?”

Anyone for whom the loss of internet access would be only slightly less disorienting than watching zombies take over the world, but who cannot construct a coherent sentence explaining what the internet really is, should consult the following Barney-level introduction to the world wide web: http://www.20thingsilearned.com/en-US.

The day began with a long journey from Lallaguda to Hi-Tech City. Google sent three cushy buses to whisk us off. For me that meant gently dozing to the futile honkings of Hyderabad morning traffic and occasionally being awoken by an “Are we there yet?” Sam’s bus experienced three distinct phases: the group-karaoke-and-dance-in-your-seat-to-your-favorite-song phase, the vomit-out-the-window phase, and the final exhaust-yourself-until-you-fall-into-comatose-slumber phase. Srilekha, on the other hand, taught the students on her bus a Telugu song and they sung it all perfectly, memorized, in unison.

Tee hee.

This bus is about to break into song.

The girls were struck with wonder when we arrived. They lingered at the wide-paneled glass windows, the glossy elevators, the hot-and-cold water dispensers. Some were also struck with a case of nerves. “Ma’am, I’m getting afraid,” Navaneetha shivered to me in the elevator, inducing a circle of vigorous nods around her. Fortunately, we immediately split off into small groups for lunch with Google employees, who allayed the girls’ fears with a glorious spread of curries, soups, sambar, dal, exquisite pulihora, lassi, cakes, unlimited kulfis and chocobars—ahem. Right. Blog post.

Waiting in the lobby for Google to name-tag all 60 girls, 6 Railway teachers, 3 TMS fellows, 2 TAs, and Piya. Nice work, Google.

At lunch, the students had the awesome opportunity to chat with employees from the advertising, sales, and engineering departments about how exactly they’d gotten to Google and the kinds of projects they’re working on now. Plus, the girls had the awesome opportunity to brag about their own achievements—Heena’s a superstar runner, Hemalatha’s good at math—and to tell the Googlers about the trials of learning videography and Final Cut Express in TMS class.

Gazing tenderly at lunch.

The chocobar--a national pastime.

We trooped to the meeting room after lunch, half-eaten ice cream bars in hand, for an internet workshop. We began with the heart of Google, its search function, and learned how to upload photos into image search to identify pictures (confession: I didn’t know you could do that). We played with Google Maps, looking up directions to our favorite restaurant on RTC Cross Road and marveling at satellite views of Sam’s house in D.C. and Srilekha’s and my alma mater in New York.

The girls had a chance to pitch some of their tough questions directly to the Googlers—“What is the internet?” and “Who is answering when I ask questions on Google?”—and some less tough but equally vital ones, like “What does the word ‘google’ mean?” (Two graduate students name their company ‘Googol,’ after the really big number; man writes check to company but spells the name ‘Google’; students panic about convincing man to re-write check; students change name of company to ‘Google.’)

Sachin explains how to use Google Maps.

Sunitha filming the internet literacy workshop.

"Just...explain the internet to us real quick, will you?"

The highlights of the afternoon were the interviews. First, Mounika and Harika sat down with Mukesh, a software engineer, who grew up wanting to be a mathematician or a scientist, but was ultimately drawn to computer science for both its intellectual challenge and the fun of being able to see the immediate results of your work.

He urged the students never to be disheartened by one’s background or by others who seem better educated, because there will always be those who know more. “Whatever is past is past, but always try to do better,” he insisted, encouraging the girls to give themselves as much exposure to new ideas as possible and to constantly aim for one step higher.

The students asked Mukesh whether he believed the same opportunities were available to girls and boys in modern India, and although he was optimistic, he acknowledged the social factors contributing to a continuing gender gap. “In my village,” he said, “some parents feel that if girls are educated too much, it will be very difficult for marriage, because you won’t find an equal match…it is totally wrong.”

Mukesh also addressed the focus on test scores and academic rankings in the Indian education system, arguing that test scores often have little to do with how well one understands the essential concepts of a subject. “Now, I interview a lot [for Google]. I also see what their J.E. [junior engineering] ranking is. It doesn’t mean anything. If their J.E. ranking is top, I still reject, because they are not able to answer my questions. Fine, you got marks, or some ranking. But at the end of the day, what matters is—do you know your stuff?” He urges his own younger brothers never “to go mad for marks. If you aim for it, fine. But understand your subject. If you understand, then I am proud. If you just mark it and pass, I don’t care.”

He left the girls with an important message: “It’s about confidence. There are two things required. You should know your stuff. As a student, you should have knowledge about your subject. And you should be confident. It’s easy to say. It’s tough, I know that. But I can tell you—be confident. You are as good as anybody else.”

Mounika, Mukesh, and Harika.

 Ramya and Sai Durga interviewed Suryanarayana, an online sales and operations senior manager, who offered a different take on the necessary steps for achievement. “There is absolutely no substitute for hard work,” Suri emphasized. “My professor told me that life has three parts for success. One part is luck. Two parts is your intelligence. And four parts is hard work.”

Suri wasn’t merely repeating a formula. He’d learned the hard way. He recounted his years in high school, when he’d do just enough work to pass his courses. “I could do more, but I didn’t…I wanted to go and watch all the movies, do all the nights out with my friends, do whatever…roam around. But when I went to IIM [Indian Institute of Management], it was a different world altogether.”

After his initial shock of nearly failing in his first semester at IIM, he imposed on himself a rigid regime. He woke up at six a.m. every morning and studied for his required subjects before and after class, following this schedule “religiously” for six months until he rose to the top. “In a set of brilliant people—people who are more capable than you—doing just the bare minimum and then trying to get away doesn’t work, especially if you have the potential to do more. So just put some discipline into it.”

Mukesh advised the girls to aim high and be confident; Suri added another essential element to the mix—an inner fire and drive to push forward. “Everybody comes from a lot of constraints. It’s up to your passion—what do you want to do? Some of you want to become painters, artists, you want to go act in movies, or you want direct movies, or you want to do business, or run a shop—you can do all of that. But I’m just thinking that you should want it badly enough. Do you want to do something badly enough?”

Suri also asked the girls not to remain complacent with the institutions regarded highly in India, like Google, but always to keep thinking about ways to improve the system and change the status quo. Rather than solely aiming for top positions currently available in a career path, this generation of students “should actually think about creating something better than what is there now,” he said, spotlighting those values of creativity and innovation that we’ve placed so much emphasis on in the TMS curriculum but are neglected in the pedagogy of many Indian government schools.

Suryanarayana, Sai Durga, and Ramya.

Neha filming the interviews.

Because the students are completing their final fimmaking unit, we thought it’d be fitting to end the day with an introduction to the magical functions of video on the internet. We started a group video chat on Google+ Hangouts with some of the Googlers we’d met throughout the day, and taught the girls how to create Gmail accounts to access these features. Krishna showed the girls how to get to YouTube, where they can search for video explanations of difficult concepts for school, or listen to their ever-present Bollywood favorites (currently “Chammak Challo” and “Sheila Ki Jawaani,” in case you’re curious), or—!—upload their own videos from TMS class.

Railway-Google field trip 2011!

 

 

Hey Thanks, Google! from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

20
Nov

A Fresh Round of Photo Stories

Here come the long awaited photo stories from the boys of Nallagutta!

Most newcomers to Hyderabad would agree that one of the most daunting things about the city is its traffic. In fact, even locals, who have become thoroughly accustomed to the chaotic streets, agree that it is one of the things the city really needs to improve. In this photo story, the boys show us some of the perils of traffic in Hyderabad and express their hope for change.

Traffic Hazards from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

Chewing tobacco has historically been a favorite among substances used by men, and even women, in India. As our boys slowly transition into men, they have increasingly begun to see their friends pick up this habit. And many of them have already felt the pressure to pick it up themselves. But the students of Nallagutta show us why using this form of tobacco, known here as Gutkhas, is an absolute no-no for them.

Say No To Gutkhas from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

And here are new versions of the photo stories produced by the students of Audiah Memorial.

Discovering the Troubles of Telangana Bandhs

Discovering the Troubles of Telangana Bandhs from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

City vs. Village

City vs. Village from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

The Bonal Festival

The Bonal Festival from The Modern Story on Vimeo.

15
Nov

Global Connections

When I first learned about The Modern Story, I was excited to find a small program which appealed to my interests in education and development. Looking back now, it seems fitting that these two interests were born out of a trip I took to India in 2005.

The tsunami hit southeast Asia right around Christmas. The images from the wave’s aftermath disturbed me deeply and put a damper on my holiday. I couldn’t shake the numbers from my head, and found myself haunted even after I returned to college at the University of Michigan. I felt unfulfilled with giving to aid organizations and day dreamed about what it would be like to work on relief efforts on the ground. I hatched a plan to spend my savings to travel to India the summer after my freshman year and volunteer in a village that was affected by the tragedy.

The conditions I encountered in my first trip to a developing country were staggering, and they left an impression that would be burned into my mind for years to come. This was also one of my first encounters with leading my own classroom without the support of a tutoring program or curriculum. Although I had volunteered as a tutor in high school, I was at a loss as to how to teach a group of 7 – 9 year-olds English, being just barely an adult myself. I was in awe of Julia, a fellow volunteer a few years older than me, who was not so paralyzed by fear and ignorance as to freeze completely in front of the students.

Photo taken on my trip to India in 2005.

While I struggled to make sense of my experience in India at the time, in the years that passed, the experience crystallized in my mind as a defining moment. Even now I’m at a loss for words to articulate exactly how and why it changed me, but the point is that it did — and I believe for the better.

Travel helps us grow. Yet this is far from a universal experience. Unfortunately, it is an opportunity for growth and exposure that only people with means get to experience. I have been blessed to travel, but in these experiences I have encountered countless people who have never left the places where they were born and raised.
When I was teaching in Brooklyn, I received a grant to take students to Washington DC on an overnight trip. At the Radisson by the airport a student confessed to me with a look of rapture on her face, that she had never stayed in a hotel before, and that it was even nicer than she’d imagined. She was 18 years old.

In front of the capitol on our class trip to DC,

Traveling is one of the things I enjoy and value more than anything else, but I cannot help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that these luxuries come at a price that so many cannot afford. I would love to create more opportunities for students — regardless of socioeconomic background — to reap the benefits of travel. I am even more committed in my desire to do so after this experience with TMS. The first step is in exposing students to the vast and exciting world that there is to explore.

To this end, I’ve tried to involve my former students in Brooklyn in my fellowship experience. While it took a little while to get the ball rolling, the students have begun contacting one another through email, and this small gesture, this small step toward broadening horizons has me so inspired to continue with my goal to create real opportunities for students like these to one day meet and experience the worlds that they have so innocently described to one another in their correspondence.

We now start class each day with the routine of checking our email. The girls are thrilled to see a new message in the class account’s inbox. We are sending pictures of Indian traditional dress and contemporary fashion to students in New York. They respond with questions and updates about Occupy Wall Street. We hope to share videos shortly. If you’d like to send a message to the girls of Class 8A (and you’ve read this far on the blog post!) then please write to

railwaygirlsclass8a@gmail.com

Check out the video of the girls checking their email account:

Railway Girls Check Their Class Email from The Modern Story on Vimeo.