Suriya Khan practices the harmonium (pump keyboard)We just wrapped up summer holiday at The Merasi School. As the June sun pounds 120 degree rays down onto Jaisalmer, children visit relatives in other villages and our small school building undergoes intensive mending from recent earthquake damage. But while the literal functions of school are slumbering, the mental rhythms continue to play out.
The Merasi School children are taught to be students at every moment of the day. Fridah is a student when she reads the label on a package of milk, Daywu is a student when he tallies the total for his father’s medical expenses, and Iyeena is a student when she stirs the chai in four and six beat rhythms. The kids are in a charged continuum of knowledge that can only begin at The Merasi School.
The real classroom is bartering with mango sellers, catching an error in the cloth vendor’s receipt, gauging how much salve is needed to treat a cut. Building the connective tissue of knowledge is the heart and soul of education. ‘A,’ ‘B’ and ‘C’ mean nothing on their own, but when nestled in the context of ‘abacus’ or ‘black,’ their significance and use explodes.
As soon as a little guy or gal makes the connection between an idea on the chalkboard and an immediate application in their lives, the imagination takes charge and, through messy experimentation, students discover the power of the written word and the utility of addition. And this intersection of ideas and actions is what differentiates education from all other forms of community development.
Education is bigger than the sum of its parts. When constructed purposefully, it is the most powerful current in a stream charging towards social justice. Each one of our students has the capacity to be a pacemaker for this body of water.
Yes, it was summer holiday at The Merasi School. But it’s only a holiday from the physical structure. Being a student is a full-time job.
