Muddy trousers

Today I spent more time with the students.  After spending many hours on my laptop working on my project plan, I feel the need for break and go join the students in their personal time (after 4.30, they have flexible time for a set of activities and mentoring).  With the first student, I simply sat down in one of the rooms and started a conversation about his village.  Then I asked what he would like to develop, to which he responded his ability to express himself confidently.  This turned out to be a common thread in the handful of students I was able to ‘mentor’ this evening.

I wanted to really get to know them and understand their position, so I tried to make any conversation as constructive as possible, whilst being insightful.  I gave the interview-type simulation by asking them to talk on random topics – such as GFS (Graduate Finishing School) and the word ‘poverty’. It uncovered a lot about their perceptions, both of GFS and poverty in India.  One particular girl used the words “poor” and “backward” to describe her student community – to which I felt personally uncomfortable. Having asked her what she felt, she agreed that it did not empower her but rather make her feel upset.  It was an opportunity to take ownership of my role in GFS and so I explained to her why those terms are redundant and have no value on anyone here – and that we are working on re-wording to ‘economically disadvantaged’.  This merely implies lacking funds to pursue higher education, rather than being lower, or unequal compared to the rest.  It felt good to connect with students – hearing the responses to questions such as “How will you make your parents proud?” One girl was lacking confidence to talk to new people and so we spoke through her fears to realise that there was nothing really to get so anxious about, resulting in her freezing up.

On my walk home, it was very muddy and my trousers were getting dirty.  My bags were heavy and I suddenly caught myself complaining.  I became an observer in that moment, and stepped out of complaint and into possibility.  I realised that this is the space where growth occurs.  The area is so muddy because roads are not built and houses are in construction.  Migrants build small huts out of bricks without cement, housing their whole families.  My temporary walk into a clean, well built and relatively insect free house is something I realised I was incredibly grateful for.