Hello all- Nicole here with the two week report! In some ways it feels like I’ve been here much longer than 14 days and in others I still feel incredibly new and disoriented. We spent Monday and Tuesday of this last week finalizing schedules with the remaining schools and had a few more introductory classes on Thursday and Friday: Shivani started herclass at Audiah Memorial High School and Nelle and I started our classes at Sitaphalmandi. Despite a little bit of initial confusion for all of us, the class I taught at Sithphalmandi was wonderful. The students are really willing to be creative and share their ideas and seem super excited about TMS (it’s the first year for us at this school!) Plus, our teaching assistants are incredibly supportive.
We had our second week of classes at Railway where we’re beginning to cover storytelling and camera usage with more depth. A lesson about the story elements of conflict and resolution led to a discussion and creative exercise surrounding issues the students see impacting their communities. The students drew pictures showing water shortages, pollution, gender discrimination, poverty, child labor, and poverty and for homework were asked to draw what they thought the “resolutions” to those issues could be (so more on those Thursday!) I’m really impressed with what critical thinkers the students are and can tell that I’ll be learning as much about Hyderabad from them as they do about digital storytelling from me.
Railway girls on a photo scavenger hunt
On a non work-related note I was lucky enough attend a feminist collective meeting last night and a film screening hosted by a local LGBT organization this afternoon. I was so thrilled to meet such wonderful folks at both events, but more so just incredibly excited to feel like I was joining a community that’s creating such a palpable progressive momentum in what is already such a beautiful, diverse and energetic city.
Namaste from Hyderabad and the 2013 fellows! We’ve had staggered arrivals (and a grand total of 48 hours of layovers) but we’re finally all together in our lovely new apartment. You can learn more about each of us and how we ended up here over on the Our Team page.
Want to see our adventures? Follow us on Instagram (just search TheModernStory)! It’s the future! Except that everything will look like a 70’s polaroid!
Notes from Nelle – In the car from the airport, I felt like a puppy in a kitchen full of bacon crumbs. One minute I’d be chatting with Remy about his move to Boston with Piya; the next, following an idea I had jotted down last week about assessment; all of a sudden, my eyes would find massive boulders stacked precariously on a mountain ridge, silhouetted against a mild blue sky and a scratchy horizon line of trees. Bacon crumbs everywhere! Delicious morsels of instant friendship, TMS potential, and the backdrop of gorgeous, enveloping Hyderabad overwhelmed my tastebuds and my poor jet-lagged brain. . . but my tail was wagging really fast.
Thanks to the warmth and openhearted guidance of Remy, and my instantly lovable roomies, I am now re-grounded. My tail is still wagging. Yesterday I bought a cherry red kameez, and today I wore it to Railway Girls school, where we met the most unbelievable chorus of “Hello, Teachers!!” We begin teaching this coming Friday – a fact which had been causing some apprehension. But meeting the students and teachers that make this program work instantly melted away my nervous energy. Everyone was welcoming, with a sweet and poking sense of humor. We will be teaching at Railway for at least a week before we start at the other schools. I feel lucky to have the luxury of time to troubleshoot programming in such a friendly place. Also today, I negotiated the fare home with the auto-rickshaw driver, and made it across Mahatma Ghandi Road without giving myself a heart attack. Small victories. Wag wag.
xo! N
Notes from Nicole – The first 40 hours of my journey were completely packed with so much chaos (a flight cancellation, a reroute, a delay that resulted in a missed connection, a 24 hour layover) that I didn’t really even have a stress-free moment to stop and think about or process the adventure I was embarking on. Somewhere between Life of Pi and an episode of Parks and Recreation on my final flight, though, it hit me: I was almost there, I was going to be in Hyderabad until December. I smiled to myself, took a deep breath, and soon enough was walking away from the airport through the hazy early-morning air with Remy. Since then it’s been nonstop sensory overload in the very best of ways.
This city is massive and it’s been hard to orient our friendly little neighborhood within it, but maybe that’s for the best. There are all kinds of stories to investigate just within the few block around our apartment like the elusive moneys in an alley off of Mahatma Gandhi Rd. or the group of primary school boys who’ve formed their own little bicycle gang in our apartment complex’s parking lot. Along with my wonderful co-fellows I’ve started tackling challenges small (figuring out how to shop for salwar suits), medium (hailing the 8A bus during rush hour), and a little bit larger (impromptu teaching a class of 20 eighth graders). Cheers to all that’s to come!
Snippets from Shivani – It has been so great being back in Hyderabad after almost 12 months! However, I return not with the intention to visit family or go sari shopping but to be in the classroom — and what a great first day it has been! After quickly meeting TMS Co-Director Remy and my lovely Co-Fellows Nelle and Nicole we all raced off to hop onto a bus to Secunderabad, a true experience in navigating the idiosyncrasies of Hyderabadi traffic. After finally making our way to Railway Girls School in Lallaguda we met Mr. Prabakher, an enthusiastic teacher who’ll serve as our liaison for the semester. We also got a chance to chat with Waheeda, who will be joining us in the classroom as well. I’m already looking forward to using these two as valuable resources! Then it was off to to meet the 8th class batch of girls we’ll be working with for the next 6 months! All of the gals, ranging in ages from 12 to 14 greeted us quite enthusiastically and my Co-Fellows and I got the ball rolling on introducing ourselves and what we’ll be working with them on. Most of the students were already familiar with TMS from years prior which was great to hear. What started off as a small exchange between us and the students quickly (and unexpectedly!) turned into a flurry of chalk dust on the blackboard and the assigning of their first real piece of homework — impromptu teaching at it’s finest! I can’t wait to return on Friday for our first real class and to see what the girls have come up with. Here’s to a beautiful start to what’s already shaping up to be a great semester!
day number one at railway, super duper “VE-RY NICE!”
A shrill noise shatters my sleep. It’s 4 in the morning, and the phone is ringing in my ear. Why did I go to bed with the phone on my pillow? For precisely this reason: my groggy ‘hello’ is met with a tentative voice asking, “Is this teacher?” I was determined not to miss the chance to talk to one of the students. Since returning to the cold of Colorado, these moments of interaction keep me warm and help prevent my TMS experiences from fading into the realm of memory. Treasures such as an email from Bansilalpet class or a Facebook message from a teacher at Audiah keep me going. Even though we successfully completed our final ceremonies and have all returned to the US, I seek comfort in the fact that we did not have to say a final goodbye.
Emily and I held ceremonies at each school in addition to the annual end-of-semester event at Railway. The smaller ceremonies allowed us to recognize each student for their unique contribution to the class. The events at Audiah Memorial and Bansilalpet were especially characteristic of these schools and are worth remembering in some detail. From cake to garlands to quavering voices (mine and Emily’s) and a lot of laughter, these ceremonies were a very special way to round out our TMS classes.
We arrived at Audiah early in anticipation of the usual technical difficulties. As expected, certain unknown and dark forces of the universe prevented the sound from working on the main computer, which was connected to the big screen. Luckily, Emily came prepared with her portable speakers. Her incredible agility should be recognized, as she had to play the videos on her laptop and the main computer at the same time while holding a microphone to the portable speaker so the sound carried right to the back of the room. Students of all ages and classes packed the computer lab, eager to be included in a TMS event. It was a hot day and we were certainly sweating by the end!
The videos captured the attention of the normally rowdy Audiah students, who burst into laughter to see Bhushan acting sick in Rainy Day, covered their ears at the clanging cacophony of noises in Sound PSA, and called out the names of the students in our TMS Oath video. The grins on the faces of our TMS students, who were certainly the stars of the hour, let us know that the day was a success. We finished by calling each to the front to accept their certificates and plaques. I will treasure their expressions and the hand-made yarn marigold garlands presented to us for the rest of my life.
At Bansilalpet, we weren’t surprised to discover that Prashanti, Geeta, Headmaster and the students had prepared a beautiful event for TMS, complete with speeches, cake and lush jasmine and rose garlands. We were incredibly moved by the kind words of our co-teachers and students. Throughout our six months at Bansilalpet, I was especially appreciative of the way in which the teachers and HM never lost sight of the most important individuals at the school: the students. As usual, the TMS ceremony gave the students a chance to shine while simultaneously making Emily and me feel very special. Once we had handed out certificates, the students presented us with their gifts—a touching collection of knick-knacks and cards that reflected their personalities and thoughtfulness. Throughout the day, Emily and I refused to look at each other because we knew that seeing one tear would set both of us off (we later discovered at Railway that once you start, it’s impossible to stop the waterworks!)
I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to work at both of these schools with Emily. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were easily our most challenging days of the week, but at each of these two schools we experienced significant triumphs. At Bansilalpet, the class as a whole became more confident and creative and never lost enthusiasm for the projects. At Audiah, individual students became markers of success: Rohit stepped into the role of leader and Rahul becoming a pro at Windows MovieMaker. Both schools will always have a special place in my heart. The friendships forged with the teachers and the larger-than-life personalities of the students made these schools some of our most memorable.
Like ripples left in the wake of passing ship, the memories of my time with The Modern Story resonate with me to this day – from the subtle sound of a familiar Indian accent on the New York streets, to the electric shock of remembrance when I open a notebook and find an out of place message from a student. This entry has been a long time coming – though what more appropriate day to reflect than that of the final ceremony concluding the 2012 TMS Curriculum at all of the schools. After facing an unfortunate run-in with a dengue infected mosquito and spending two weeks in a delusional state of mind-body disconnect, I returned to America in late October and have not able to fulfill the rest of my intended projects with the schools where I was teaching. As I look at the pictures of Emily and Dana saying their final goodbyes to the Railway students today, the pangs of nostalgia feel fresh.
Message of memories I made for the students of Railway 8A
Unwinding from this time in Hyderabad has not been easy – it is difficult to articulate a city where the spirit is so strong, the energy so vibrant, that it is tangible in the air. India has been home to some of the most sincere connections I have ever made, from the seemingly trivial interactions with a reliable ricshaw driver, to the protective presence of the samosa man next door who we always knew was looking out for us. Life in this big, crowded city felt like home. Additionally, I was given the blessing of experiencing all of this with two creative and amazing co-fellows Emily and Dana, and of course Asma and Neha, sincerely the strongest and most fascinating women I have met. It sounds cliché, but sometimes I feel that getting so intimate with Hyderabad taught me a new way to love – to embrace diversity from the heart and legitimately open the eyes and ears to all the variety of forms that life’s wisdom takes. Never did I anticipate when I left for this fellowship that the students would create such an impact on me. I have bits and pieces of student paraphernalia hanging in my room – name cards, drawings, letters, or masks- and they remind me every day of that inquisitive childlike presence on the otherside of the globe.
Stepping back in time to when I was just leaving India…we were just concluding our small video projects. I want to take a moment to reflect on each of the schools and give a bit of detail about those projects. Because it is most fresh in my mind, I will begin with the project of Railway Class 8A. It was exciting to watch these students perform drama – not only creating a critical awareness of their own identities but allowing the film medium to open them up to the potential of taking on new roles. We can be whoever we want to be! The project was entitled “Fight For Your Rights: Education for Everyone!” and concerned a young girl from a village who desperately wanted an education but was not allowed to go to school in her village. She decides that if she can not go to school as a girl, then she will go as a boy and dresses up every day. Watch to discover what can happen when one girl makes a bold move and stands up for the rights of the community. Below is a link where you can watch the full video on vimeo.
I continue to be startled by the distinct personality of each school and how quickly they evolve – like new friends, who for every interaction open your eyes to surprises. As the girls get more comfortable in class, we have witnessed the breakout of closet poets, the soft voice of silent activists beginning to sound, and a humbling confrontation with the limits of our communication which force us to get creative with our bridges across the cultural and linguistic divide.
I have not updated since my start of class at Mahatma Gandhi Memorial (MGM) Government Girls High School. I was most self-conscious to begin teaching at this school – the courtyard, shared with a number of other girls’ schools, initially felt heavy to me in a conservative discipline that left me unsure how I would be received. These was a stark contrast between the disruptive excitement that meets me upon my entrance into Sultaan Bazar, and the cautious curiosity mixed with skepticism I felt while sitting amidst the students waiting for a teacher to arrive and open the school that first day. I watch the students stand in straight-lined assembly and repeat the words of various national and cultural anthems, rising and falling to attention with the sound of a drum. When the lights of the classroom give out upon my first opening words of 9 o’clock class, I come to know that there are daily power cuts scheduled to the precise timing of my computer based class. Hyderabad gets the majority of its power from hydroelectric dams, and the low rainfall thus far this monsoon season which may necessitate lengthier power cuts jeopardizing the students’ learning environment.
I must admit, I was nervous – but this aside, and with two weeks of retrospect on this school, I can comfortably say I am most impressed with the dedication of these students to take full appreciation in their opportunity for education. It is this school that is now pushing me to be as creative in the classroom as I can, and to ensure that each lesson plan is rich in educational content deeper than the technical logistics needed to carry out our curriculum. The girls are demanding me of substance, so it was this school that motivated me to initiate a unit on human rights earlier than I had intended, and to incorporate lessons on the civil rights movement and Martin Luther King Jr. into our second week of class. I told the girls the story of Rosa Parks and segregation of the busses, and was impressed with how easily the girls could relate to this based upon the segregation of their own busses between male and female – a connection which makes an easy leap into the questions of gender equality that are made to feel taboo when you see the shyness in the girls when it is brought up. In pushing these touchy subjects and discussing civil disobedience, it is not to encourage a class of discontents but to stimulate critical thinking.
The barriers are quickly breaking down, and there was an amazing contrast between the photographs taken by the students in the second class, when cameras were introduced – as opposed to the fourth class, when they touched the camera for the second time. I was pleased to see the confidence to show action in front of the camera, and to express their own unique personalities to be captured by the eye of the lens.
Pictures from the first day of camera use, MGM:
On the first day of class, most of the photos were like this one below. As soon as in front of the camera, there was a rigidity – to the point that I had to introduce a ball to the frame to try to encourage them into activity.
Pictures from second day at MGM:
By the second time we use the camera, the girls are showing much more creativity – they are staging their own photographs, and coming up with fun ways to take pictures with each other.
In this class, the girls were asked to participate in an activity concerning the concepts of Justice, Fairness, and ‘Doing the Right Thing.’ I gave them prompts of various scenarios that serve as tests of character, and allowed the students to decide what they would do in these situations. Together in three groups, they discussed and came up with the right way to handle the situation presented to them. They then performed the scenario as a skit while other students took pictures. I have pieced together the product in the short clip below…
Finally, I will end with saying that there is as much diversity within the classroom as between them – and for every look of bewilderment is a response of striking insight. The following is a journal response written by one of the students named Neetu when prompted to write the ‘Letter to the World’ assignment. Neetu was in the Modern Story Class last year, and has joined into our class as a sort of ‘teaching assistant’ to help the new students in understanding. I do not know much about her own personal journey through the curriculum last year, but I am continually impressed by her composure and depth of attention and thought.
Dear World,
Hi. I am Neetu. Now I am in 9th Standard and I am from MGM School. My school is a little far away from my home so I have to come by bus. It is a little difficult for me to come to the school by bus, but in my life the most important thing is my education, for my education I am ready to fight with all the difficulties in life because I think education can change the world – even changing myself.
I am proud to be an Indian because the true wealth of India is the hearts of the people of India – which is very kind hearted. There is a lot of Brotherhood among the People of India, they give more importance to their culture. There are many different languages, cultures, religions, etc in India, but I think what is equal in all is the feeling of Indians that we are all Indians – there is unity in diversity in India as we all know.
India is a developing country, but it is not developed. After getting freedom so many years have passed, but still it is developing because there are some crises and social problems like child labor, child marriages, poverty, corruption, illiteracy. Still India is a developing country, but I hope that today’s children will work hard and be successful to make an India as a developed country in the whole world.
Thank you,
Neetu.
I am excited to keep you updated on our photo story projects that will be coming up soon!
This week packs a nostalgic punch for us: it’s been almost one month since we stepped off our respective planes in Hyderabad and met one another (pronounced Hy-DRA-bad for anyone curious). One month of dodging auto-rickshaws, developing a chai tea habit, and waiting patiently, pleadingly for packages from friends and family (don’t worry friends and family – we’ve found the room, it’s the mail that’s a bit slow). It’s been three weeks since we began teaching at Railway Girls’ High School in Lallaguda and two weeks since we began teaching at our America India Foundation (AIF) partner schools: Sultan Bazar High School, Government Girls High School in Bansilalpet, and Audiah Memorial High School. And as of yesterday Kelly officially began teaching at our 5th and final school—Mahatma Gandhi Memorial School—with great success.
With this day, the last wheel of The Modern Story flying machine has been set spinning earnestly in motion. It is a vehicle piloted by 114 students, their 10 teachers, and ourselves, built from camera batteries and tripod legs, story-powered and running on creative juice, buoyed by blind faith in each other and in our newfound family. We seem to have lifted off beyond all return, departed from any familiar ground to gaze down at our small June selves with amusement. A great many things have changed since then.
For one, the three of us have grown from being friendly strangers to a strange band of friends, known to the Abids neighborhood and often together. When separated, shopkeepers and waiters will inquire, “Where is Kelly? Where is Dana? Where is your other friend?” Both Kelly and Dana have spent time in India before and share a profound love for the country, its many languages, religions, and peculiar challenges. Kelly is always striving to get out and see more, following her curiosity (and encouraging mine) through the winding streets of Sultan Bazaar and into the pockets of Hyderabadi life: a chai tea counter, a yoga studio, and a Hare Krishna service. On a given day, when we find ourselves stuffed into the 8A bus, dripping with sweat, careening through the streets, and contorting our limbs to hold on to whatever pole, rail, or fixed object we can find for fear of falling, Dana will often break into an enormous smile and say: “I love India.” And she means it. In many ways, experiencing the country through their eyes has forced me to reconsider my own impressions, to knock down the pin of stereotype and romanticism all the more quickly, and live at the level of people, places, and things. Because that is, after all, what matters most: people, places, and things. Nouns. Any abstraction beyond that is a bit more complicated and requires one to venture into the realm of the storyteller. How do you tell a story about India that captures a whole noun? A swath of feeling? An entire month? I haven’t the faintest idea, but am going to try.
Two weeks ago, I was teaching the 8B standard class at Railway Girls’ High School in Secunderabad. I love working with these students – they are bright, kind-hearted, and keen to become good photographers and digital storytellers.
After showing the students some storyboards and comic strips, I took them outside in small groups to record voiceovers describing their favorite object. We stood beneath a tree – dubbed the “quiet tree” to deter background noise – and amid hushed laughter, the girls took turns speaking into the camera and recording one another’s voices. Everything was going smoothly, all too smoothly. I should have known. For somewhere in between Fuqrah explaining how her father bought her a diary for New Year’s and Sim Rani describing the fur of her teddy bear, a breeze passed by and gingerly lifted the edge of my long tunic, called a kurta. I felt the coolness of the breeze, as breezes are wont to cool the skin, but with a strange and startling proximity. As if the breeze was extra strong, or my pants – these billowy, pajama-like pants called salwar – were extra thin. Or missing entirely.
Somehow, in the haste of the morning, I had torn an apple-sized hole in the back of my salwar and was bearing my backside to the entirety of the sun-soaked courtyard. Panicked, I tugged my kurta back in place and looked wildly in every direction, like the periscope of some paranoid submarine. Had I flashed the students? A teacher? The Head Mistress Madam Janaki? If she didn’t tolerate short sleeves, indecent exposure would hardly earn her approval. I spent the rest of the day attempting to be streamlined, arms pinned to my sides like a water slide rider, walking slowly and trying to not make any sudden motions. I hobbled home with wounded pride and stitched the hole that weekend.
As a teacher abroad, it is too our benefit to approach new environments with utmost respect, to be mindful of what is said and done, and to consider the meaning of our actions in a new context. To comply with unspoken rules. To adjust accordingly. To conform. All month, I’ve been watching other teachers at our schools and trying to mimic their mannerisms, their tone, and their diplomacy. I’ve begun to wobble my head back and forth to mean yes, instead of nodding up and down, and adopted a clipped Indian accent to make it easier for my students to understand my English. This is made especially ironic by the fact that so many of the girls detest the sound of their voice, of their accent, and want desperately to sound like me.
The pressure to conform and blend in, especially in the conservative sections of Hyderabad where we live and teach, urges not only our compliance, but the compliance of my students as well. Many said their greatest fear in The Modern Story class was answering a question incorrectly. Many are hesitant to speak in class, often answering my questions in a synchronized chorus. The students of 8B wear the same neatly pressed blue uniform, hair spun in two smooth braids, and frequently copy their homework from textbooks, newspapers, and each other’s journals despite my insistence they write in “their own words.” But what value does a student’s “own words” have when having the “right answer” is more socially applauded? My students and I seem to be caught in a space of mutual imitation, suspended somewhere in the middle of this two-way mirror and trying so very studiously, even desperately, to be like everyone but ourselves.
In spite of our honest efforts, however, it has proven nearly impossible for my students and I to be anyone but ourselves. Scraps of personhood will continue to make an appearance: bursts of laughter, innocently insensitive remarks, and a wayward patch of skin beneath an otherwise perfectly respectable pair of pants. Though the desire to fit in persists, there is something to be said for standing out. And instead of suppressing these flares of identity and hanging their heads in shame, I want more than anything to show these girls the tremendous beauty and joy of taking pride in themselves. Of bringing their inner life to bear on paper and preferring to do so in their own words. And when hearing their voice played back, I want them to smile at the sound of it, to appreciate its musicality, its earnest curiosity, its liveliness, everything I hear when I listen to them speak and the ownership that comes when imitation isn’t nearly as satisfying as authenticity.
In the midst of the hectic bazar crowds, beyond the yellow door that opens in upon the crisp white temple, past the stacks of paperbacks and street side printing press, and next to the man with the sugar cane stand, one can find the door to the Sultaan Bazar Girls School. At this school, I feel that my interaction with the students necessitates a breaking down of walls of ‘otherness’ I wear as a foreigner to be seen as person before romanticized celebrity. It is in these cross-cultural encounters that I recognize the breadth of learning and sharing that can take place through the Modern Story curriculum, but that also humble me to the challenges presented by engaging with a system and pedagogy unfamiliar to my Western upbringing. When I walk through the gate, all eyes of the courtyard turn to me, and I feel a bit insecure in my skin when I notice the teacher of a class being held outdoors search for the source of the spontaneous distraction. Although this attention can become burdensome in general, with these students there is something so innocent in their intrigue – so genuine in their questions to know how I got here and where I am from – and this sincerity makes me so excited to work with them towards integrating into the global dialogues available through technology and their own voices.
On the first day, the students got to class half an hour early. They have their lunch period before The Modern Story class, and it seemed as if they must have eaten as quickly as possible in order to come join me in the computer lab. I made sure they had, in fact, eaten properly before agreeing to start class fifteen minutes early. They were all sitting in a tight knit circle that had formed around my chair at the computer- wide eyed and leaving me with little choice but than to acknowledge they were ready to begin. We started class with an introduction to the curriculum, and once more with going through the rules that we expect in the Modern Story. When they were hesitant to respond to my questions, I was not sure if their nods of understanding were coming from a true grasp of my English. The teaching assistant working with me that day assured me that they did understand, but that speaking is a problem for them. I recognize that the most difficult rule to follow may be the last one we listed on the board, “I will not be afraid to speak.”
By the second day they seemed to have loosened up, and though still quiet, gave fully devoted attention to the lesson. My aim with this class was to introduce the girls to the idea of finding stories in the world around us. I am trying to use the ‘medium as my message’ as much as possible in class, so I showed them a small video I made on the stories that can be seen in the stars, and the lessons that nature teaches us all around. From this we moved on to the idea of a ‘picture says 1,000 words’ and did a free-write exercise responding to an image on the computer. The rigidity I saw in these girls when asked to be creative, the hesitation and fear they seemed to have of getting the ‘wrong answer,’ reminded me of the behavior the day before when many of them used straight edges to make sure the lines on their name cards were perfect. My desire to shake and loosen them up again beckons me to the boundaries of teacher and friend.
With that said, I am excited to get to know more about these girls throughout this six months and hope that I can facilitate their ability to speak up for themselves and believe in their power to effect change in their own lives, families, and communities.
My name is Kelly Adams and I am one of the 2012 teaching fellows with the Modern Story. I rest tonight at the home where I grew up in Lebanon, Pennsylvania- in a state of, at once, reflection and anxious anticipation for the journey of challenges and triumphs that await upon my arrival in Hyderabad in the coming days. I would like to take this time to introduce myself.
I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to work on behalf of the Modern Story, and towards the mission of integrating technology and narrative in the classroom and encouraging students to engage with their personal, social, and natural environment in a proactive way. I hope to facilitate experiential learning through the Modern Story curriculum and production of film projects that will extend from language development, technological confidence, and career planning to personal empowerment, cross-cultural education, and creative discipline. I am also excited to develop along my own course of digital storytelling in this unique opportunity to bring awareness to the lives of urban, Indian youth on a global scale, through the voices, images, and productions of those concerned.
I come from a background in Anthropology and Environmental Earth Science, and align my academic focus to the junction of these two disciplines, where the nature of human experience meets the human experience of nature. My senior thesis in Anthropology concerned Native American sacred lands, and the reality of religious freedom and self-determination for the Native American population of the United States. Writing this paper was as much a process of self-discovery as it was an academic project, and I was left with a new respect for the true beauty in diversity of ways of being, seeing, relating, understanding, and defining human life that co-inhabit the cultural sphere, and with a determination to serve the sustenance of cultural and ecological diversity on planet Earth.
I am a firm believer in the power of the film medium as a tool to enhance recognition, promote self-determination, and serve the empowerment of disconnected and disenfranchised people, communities, and cultures of the globe. This will not be my first experience in India – in fact, I have only recently returned to American soil after an 11-month trip abroad that began June, 2011. I spent 7 months living and working in Pune, Maharasthra on behalf of a new media online documentary film festival, whose mission is to raise awareness and evolve human consciousness towards a more integrated and holistic paradigm. Upon completing my obligations with this festival, I took an extended layover in Cappadocia, Turkey where I had my first practice run at the creative construction of my own documentary project, which I entitled ‘Landscape Biography: Cappadocia” – something that I would like to pursue further in my future studies.
I am so excited to return to India, and feel that I would need to be a poet to communicate the emotion that this country awoke in me. Although I was initially disoriented in this country, by the overwhelming colors, sounds, smells, and tastes, there is a spirit that infests its air that has profoundly touched me. In the words of Jawaharlal Nehru, ‘India is a bundle of contradictions, held together by strong but invisible threads,’ and it is a powerful place to confront the true unity in diversity of life on this planet. I have grown so much from my experience in India, and am excited for the chance to give back- hands on, on the ground, and immersed in this culture daily. If there is one thing I have learned in India, it is the extent of education that occurs outside of the classroom – with this in my heart, I am grateful for the opportunity to enter the classroom and have a holistic, reciprocal, learning experience between fellows and students.
I am also excited to share this experience with all of you in the Modern Story community! We will be sure to keep you updated on the activities and projects of the students!
This past Sunday, on the birthday of the famous educator, Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, India celebrated Teachers’ Day as a way to express appreciation for the nation’s devoted instructors. Since Railway Girls’ High School is closed on Sundays, the teachers and students there organized a beautiful celebration for Monday morning and invited Kara, Asma, Neha, and myself to attend as special guests. We were thrilled to be able to spend more time at the school interacting socially with students and staff, in addition to our great time in the classrooms. Our time at Railway on Monday was a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the school’s history, the relationships amongst the teachers, and the community as a whole.
The weeks since I (and Kara) arrived in Hyderabad have been a whirlwind – a constant barrage on the senses and full of more incredible experiences than it feels possible to recount in a simple blog post. Images/sounds/smells/impressions seem to be accumulating in my head and in my computer in a frightfully exponential fashion, and it has taken some time to begin to process them. However, now that we are settled in, Kara and I have an immense amount to share and we are both quite excited to finally begin spilling our stories out onto this ample white (web) page.
For now, I will let the photos I took at Railway speak (mostly) for themselves – you can think of them as chaat, and of the much more detailed posts that will follow shortly, as very large and filling plates of biryani.
Asma and Neha, our two teaching assistants from Technology for the People. They are wonderful women and invaluable assets to the classroom.
A precise and very delicate dance by one of the Railway students.
The little ones! I’ve never seen such enthusiastic audience members – their applause was furious.
Dr. Smt. V. Indira (in orange), the former Headmistress of the school, and an inspiring speaker. Next to her, (in green) is Smt. Janaki, the current Headmistress, a similarly admirable woman.
Watching the performances from behind the curtain.
The 10th year girls all wore their saris to school instead of their uniforms so that they would look more like teachers. On Teachers’ Day at Railway, the teachers get to rest and the 10th year girls teach classes in their stead.
Shailaja, Railway’s very sweet computer teacher.
Navya, a former TMS student. Navya played the part of Headmistress, and she was excellent in her role (just the right amount of formality and authority in her tone to let me know she took her job seriously – at least for the day).
So! chew on all this (like paan,) and check back soon for a slew of new blog posts. Now that the blogging ball is rolling, it will certainly pick up speed.
Hi, I’m Kara, one of the 2010/2011 TMS teaching fellows. This is my first post to tell you a bit about myself since I’ll begin teaching classes in Hyderabad in just a few weeks.
I have a B.A. in cultural anthropology from American University, as well as a range of experiences as a journalist and youth educator. The thread that links these interests and skills is best described by quoting writer Arlene Goldbard:
Every person has a reservoir of stories—ancestor stories, origin stories, stories from childhood—that, whether any particular individual knows it or not, shape the defining narrative of his or her life.
I love learning about people’s lives, whether I’m doing it by studying cultural phenomena, interviewing folks, engaging children in creative expression, or just talking to friends. Despite being a writer and photographer, I don’t just want to share others’ stories–I want others to be able to share their own stories. Teaching digital storytelling for 6 months in India is a great opportunity to strengthen my skills at facilitating that process.
The video below shares some more details of my life’s journey so far.
