Return to my Old High School

my old high school

2012 Sunday August 12

Best day ever! Okay, I know I’ve said that before, but this tops that. Okay, right now I’m sitting in the dark with monsoon rains washing over the village, but with a single candle in the whole house, with the electricity off, and I am sipping one of the specialties of this village, kodoko roksi, meaning fermented millet distilled to make moonshine. It’s not that tasty, and not that strong, because of the distilling process in brass bowls, but it does bring back memories of the days when I was here before.

sitting with the retired headmaster

So back to the greatest day ever. So from the beginning of this concept, it’s been important to me to visit my old high school. But with no way on contacting them ahead of time, it’s always been a shot in the dark. So Aunt Phal knows how much this reunion means to me, and has been working all the angles behind the scenes. Today was supposed to be a strike, so I wouldn’t have the chance to go, with no taxis and no buses. But she asked a favor of her brother’s son. Her brother is Padam, just a kid when I was here last, and his son is Soonyi, 22, a fashion designer, but doesn’t know where to turn for a job or more training. He has access to his dad’s car, so after morning breakfast, we set out, the four of us, to drive. Bikas got out at Mahendrapool for his computer class and we kept on and kept on.

science lesson

 It’s hard to believe now that I rode my bicycle every week to my village and every week back to my family’s house. It was a long way, and hard to find. We stopped to pick up an uncle who lived there and proceeded to Laxmi Adarsha High School. Soon we had the whole faculty gathered upstairs meeting me. The headmaster was quite kind, but I really took a liking to the young teacher who teaches English. He was only one year old when I was there, born in 1974. But another teacher had been my student at the school. Wow. What luck that he remembered me. He had finished the school leaving exam, gone on to college, and come back to teach there. 

Do they look bored?

If was ten when I taught him, he was forty five now. I asked to go visit classes, and they accommodated me. Soon, though it was lunch, I had a classroom full of sixty students staring at me. I gave them my broken speech in Nepali, told them a few things in English, and then asked them if they had any questions for me. Not a one.  So I called on one girl, poor thing, and she stood up to answer my questions. I asked her name, and she answered. Then she was allowed to sit down. The whole thing was, as my daughter says, awkward.  I left that classroom and was allowed to visit a science class. 

Me with the school in the backkground

Soonyi, a relative, who drove us

The teacher was my former student and a girl was at the blackboard explaining a drawing of the parts of a flower. She had written all the parts in devnagari script, and she talked for quite a while and then was allowed to sit down. Then the teacher, who I had taught so well, so long ago, began to speak. He spoke for a long time without stopping. Once in a while he asked a short question, but as soon as a student answered with one word, he continued. While so much about Nepal has seemed to change very rapidly, the education system, at least in rural government schools, seems stuck in time. I’m not sure these kids are getting a very top drawer education. Sixty in a room crammed onto benches listening to the teacher talk. They have several compulsory subjects, which a teacher wrote down for me and which I will type in here later. Then at the end of tenth grade they take the SLC, the school leaving exam. Some fail, some fail a few topics and are allowed to keep studying, some get a third division, some a second, and some a first class, but very few of the first class from government schools, and mostly from private boarding schools. Colleges accept them based on their scores, with some allowances for the quality of education. So I came full circle today, and saw the disparity in education between those who can pay and those who need a free education.

Thank god for Soonyi, the nephew and driver. He stuck by me through every situation and I consulted with him on when to leave and what to do. I drank the tea offered but never the water. I said Namaste lots of times. I accepted the invitation to visit the retired headmaster’s house, where we were served water and tea, and I talked with him as best I could. Some other officials were there as well. Finally I took my leave and got up and we went to the car and drove away. We drove to Begnas Tal (Lake) a large lake with boats and recreation. They happened to be shooting stills for the Miss Pokhara contest. 

The girls look very young to both me and Soonyi. There also happened to be a video production crew going around Nepal filming sites of beauty for a promotional video. They asked if they could interview me. Usually shy, I agreed, because it was that kind of day. They asked me to give my name and just talk on camera. Soonyi had to coach me away from talking about my high school to talking about the beauty of the lake, which they were promoting, and I complied.  After that, we all drove away to the next spot. What a day!

Girls' side of the classroom

We dropped off the uncle, I think, but then drove to Rite Paani. I think I might have been served rokse there many years ago by the mom’s sister’s daughter. Today we were served noodles and sprite. The rice was growing right in front of where we were seated and it was cool. Then we drove off again, and another man got in the car, because no one would turn down a ride in a four wheel drive Hyundai that is blue and impressive. Finally we ended up, after a long, long drive that I must have cycled every week, in Pokhara. Aunt Phal and I were let out in a giant supermarket. It was three stories high. We were both a little intimidated and I saw hill people walking around in a daze. After visiting the second floor, Phal had us leave and we walked through the busy town of Pokhara. I mentioned we could take a bus, but she walked me to a place that sells LG washing machines and she negotiated with the salesman for a while. Then we walked to the smaller little super market, where she bought buffalo sausage and I bought some bottles of water. Soonyi came back with his friend, I forget his name, and we sat down to a typical Indian food snack called dahi puri (I think) with shells of roti filled with curried potatoes and yoghurt. The food was delicious, and then Soonyi drove us to another smaller market and then the treacherous road home, with potholes, bhaisi (buffalo), cows, motorbikes, buses, and pedestrians. I proclaimed I would never drive in this country.  Finally we arrived home and a little while later Bikas arrived as well after a day of learning computers and helping wash cars for a charity. Then the three of us sat on the roof of the three story house and watched the rain sweep in from the foothills of the Himalayas and then came inside. Bikas and I begged Phal not to make too much food, as we had both eaten some and the rule is you have to finish everything, no leftovers. Still waiting to see about that.

But overall what a day to go back to my old high school and see the students and the education and what it seems like to me now. Quite a journey back. It was exactly the same building. The only improvements were instead of just benches they had benches and desks. The blackboard was the same, a slight raised plaster with black paint on top, which the chalk sticks to imperfectly. With fifty to sixty students in a class, what else can you do but lecture at them? No internet, no computers, not even an email address for the school, and one phone on the headmaster’s desk (a big leap). It was little discouraging to me. These students deserve better, but that’s all they get.