rivate schools – children from middle class and affluent families have greater access to the world media and are thus exposed to different view points – the majority of poor children no only go to schools where they mix with their own kind but have little access to the media (print and visual). They are the ones who are doubly disadvantaged – poverty and poor quality education

Inside the school, evidence of discrimination:
     Savitri’s family is anything but well off. But when she dropped out of school here in Viraatnagar, it wasn’t because of      poverty. Her own classmates and teacher made it impossible for the 15-year-old to continue. “The moment I enter      the room in school, the other children make faces. They start singing ‘bhangi aayee hai, aayee hai, bhangi aayee hai!’      (the bhangi has come). The words of the song are foul and insulting.” Savitri is from a family of manual scavengers. A      group that’s among the most vulnerable within Dalits. The official label for them is ‘bhangi’. Many here are from the      Mehter caste. And quite a few of these groups now call themselves Balmikis. With even other scheduled castes      practising untouchability towards them, they end up pretty close to the bottom of the social heap. Women      scavengers cleaning dry latrines tend to draw their pallu over the noses and grip it in their teeth. That offers them      some protection in their unsanitary work. The children at the school mimic this when Savitri enters. “They bite a side      of their collar, push their noses up. Sometimes put a hanky on their faces. I would start crying, but it didn’t matter      to them.”

The year was 1999. Well before the bone-chilling Godhara incident and the riots that followed in Gujarat. I was travelling in Gujarat with members of a Dalit organisation documenting their experience. We interacted with the most disadvantaged among the Dalits – the Valmiki community engaged as “safai” karmcharis in municipalities and those responsible for disposing dead animals, clean open toilets and carry the night soil on their head. During field visits we encountered many situations where the laws of the land were violated. The land adjacent to Dalit localities in many villages was used for dumping cow dung and other garbage. The environment was unhygienic. We encountered social boycott, violence and intimidation. We spoke to people who were forced to work as bonded labour due to indebtedness. We visited areas where the land allocated to Dalits was controlled and cultivated by Patels and Durbars. In fact, we encountered almost every conceivable offence that could be perpetuated.

The most subtle, yet most devastating blow to the self-esteem of Dalits was visible in primary schools. We met large number of children who were formally enrolled in the government school but did not attend. When asked why, they talked about the behaviour of the teachers, the physical distance maintained by other children and how they had to sit separately in one corner of the classroom. Girls talked about how their fellow students covered their nose with cloth when they were in close proximity. Children who braved all odds to continue in school talked about how they were invariably asked to sweep the floor or clean up but never asked to fetch water. The relatively better-off Dalits manage to escape to nearby urban areas or to private fee paying schools where they may be assured of some degree of anonymity. The poor who depend on government schools just stop attending, even if they are formally enrolled. A young man in his early twenties asked what was the use of affirmative action by way of job reservations when majority of Dalit children are denied basic education – a overwhelming proportion of the poor being those who are at the bottom of the caste hierarchy – even among Dalits. Another young man asked what the meaning of democracy was – does it only mean voting every five years? He asked us whether democracy could genuinely thrive in an unequal society and one that is “racist”. And most troubling of all, he asked if people like him are citizens of the country.

The year is 2004. Speaking in a meeting on elementary education in Bangalore, a senior official of the education department of Gujarat admitted that the attitude of teachers towards children who belong to the erstwhile untouchable community is derisive and teachers openly comment that children from Dalit and Tribal communities are incapable of learning. As a result they are neglected inside the school. Furthermore, children from upper castes do not participate in the mid-day meal scheme if they are expected to sit with Dalit children and eat if the cook is a Dalit. The officer wondered how we could bring about any change if the attitudes of teachers cannot be changed and action against them is not possible. Unfortunately, social segregation across caste, community and religion has only deepened, especially after the riots of 2002.

This situation is not confined to Gujarat alone but is, unfortunately, an all India phenomenon. The socio-economic profile is a barrier to participation in education. It is well known that Dalit families live in settlements that are distant from the main village. A school or for that matter a ICDS centre is not readily accessible – physical and social distance act as a deterrent, especially in a situation of heightened social tension. This is more that obvious when we examine macro data on enrolment, retention and completion. Over 50 per cent of Dalit children who enter primary school leave by class V, with a majority dropping out before they reach class III. The situation in tribal areas is much worse given a large number of single teacher schools, rampant teacher absenteeism and what is worse that teachers who are posted are not unfamiliar with the language spoken by tribal children. The data is quite disturbing – close to 70 per cent of tribal children drop out before completing the primary cycle.

Even more tragic – those who do brave it and continue learn very little. This observation is not new and educationist agree that dominant perceptions about mental abilities of Dalit or tribal children coupled with stereotypes about certain communities lead to subtle and sometimes even blatant discrimination against some children, leading to higher drop out rate and incidence of failure.

At one level we recognise that Dalit or tribal children studying in “mixed schools” face discrimination, affecting their self-esteem and confidence and more importantly the ability to learn. At another level, we are uncomfortable with the idea of segregated schools not the least because schools meant for tribal or Dalit children are invariably mismanaged – the abysmal situation of most SC residential schools and hostels, tribal Ashramshalas is well known (with AP being a notable exception). Given increasing social and religious polarisation, we are also uncomfortable when Muslim children are enrolled exclusively Madrasas.

What then is the way out? When we discussed the problem of low investments in schools run by Adi Dravida Welfare Board in Tamil Nadu officials argued that merging them with the regular primary schools was not an available option. They argued that these schools have to remain separate but the government should ensure equal quality – infrastructure, teacher-pupil ratio, training of teachers, mid-day meal and educational material. Officials in Uttar Pradesh argued that upgrading Madrasas into regular primary schools could be a viable strategy – especially to ensure universal participation of girls.

This is a double edged sword – cutting both ways. The answer may lie in ensuring neighbourhood schools which are closely monitored – in particular, to prevent blatant caste, community or gender discrimination. The unfortunate reality is that majority of our school teachers and educational administrators are upper-caste, urban and non-tribal. They do not identify with or empathise their students; most, in fact send their own children to fee paying private or private-aided schools. Pre-service and in-service training does not deal with the impact of social prejudices and attitudes of teachers on the self-esteem of children and their ability to learn. Teacher educators are themselves blind to the existential reality of very poor children and are often hostile to issues of gender and social equity. Given this situation Dalit and tribal leaders argue that their children are better-off in separate schools – provided the government ensures equal investment and equal quality.

Not all teachers are insensitive and prejudiced. As a researcher who has travelled across the country visiting schools and interacting with teachers, one must admit that there are wide regional variations.

There are no simple or straightforward answers – each state and even each district merit context specific strategies. The larger point is that while schools could counter social prejudices and become agents of change, but end up doing just the opposite.

Across the country schools have become the battleground for communal and caste politics, thereby reinforcing and in many cases exacerbating the social segregation in Indian society. More than history textbooks, it is the caste and community of teachers and more importantly their political affiliation that is responsible for transforming the education scenario.

Civic education (“Civics” taught in our schools) was introduced to enable children to familiarise themselves with the functioning of democracy and its institutions. As Dipta Bhog argues, “Civics has neither warranted serious academic debate nor a public inquiry into its content. But why should civics matter? Given that it carries the potential of encouraging children to look at social and political structures around them in critical ways, the neglect of civics has meant that the state has used it as a form of political catechism… The focus is invariably on detailing the architectural aspect of the institution not on what goes on within that space. Panchayat, parliament, courts, district administration — everything appears fully formed with no history, struggle or debate surrounding it… Agreement, or compliance, is sought through the notion of participation. Participation, in some contexts, is synonymous with discipline.” Our textbooks rarely introduce a rights perspective – while children are expected to learn about fundamental rights, their entitlement as citizens is not explored.

In India, democracy was constructed against the grain, both of a society founded upon inequality of the caste order, and of an imperial and authoritarian state. If the initial conditions were unlikely, democracy has had to exist in circumstances that conventional political theories identify as being equally unpropitious: amidst a poor, illiterate and staggeringly diverse citizenry. Not only has it survived, it has succeeded in energizing Indian society in unprecedented ways. Introduced initially by a menacingly legalistic nationalist elite as a form of government, democracy has been extended and deepened to become a principle of society, transforming the possibilities available to Indian. They have embraced it, learning about it not from textbooks but by extemporary practice. Yet the very success of India’s democracy also threatens its continued institutional survival. The idea of political equality has engendered the menace of a tyranny of the religious majority, a threat traumatically manifested in 1992 by the destruction of the Babri Masjid at Ayodhya…

We discussed three scenarios in the previous sections – one of children from poor families and disadvantaged social groups who start life with a cumulative burden of exclusion; second, when school entry and quality of education they receive is framed by their social, economic and geographic status; and third, the post enrolment experience of discrimination and limited learning – both by way of reading and writing skills and content. Schools often reinforce social segregation – thereby extending the burden of exclusion right through schooling till they are adults. This does not stop here. There are few educational opportunities for young adults who may have dropped out of school – they cannot access skill or vocational training (minimum qualification for enrolment being Class 10) further constraining choice.

“Human development is the process of widening choices for people to do and be what they value in life.” What impact does systematic exclusion from health, nutrition and education services have on people who live on the margins? Can they overcome the odds and participate as equals in democratic processes? It is well known that it is the very poor who feel most alienated from institutions – be it the local hospital expected to provide basic healthcare or the panchayat where they can access developmental schemes meant for them (drought relief, food-for-work), child development centres that provide supplementary nutrition and immunisation, schools – the list fairly long.

Affirmative action in the form of job reservation could make a difference – provided they are able to complete 10 years of schooling with satisfactory skills and cognitive abilities. This where the cookie crumbles – almost every socially disadvantaged social group has a small number of families that have broken out of the cycle of poverty and exclusion. This group is often referred to as the creamy layer. It is this small, yet vocal and organised group that benefits from affirmative action, leaving the majority out of the loop. Better management of affirmative action by linking social status with economic situation has met with resistance. More and more social groups (including religious minorities) – even those that are not socially disadvantaged – are today demanding reservations in jobs and in institutions of higher education. As a result the constitutional instruments for correcting centuries of social exclusion have become a source of patronage. They have thrown up a manipulative leadership that uses the rhetoric of affirmative action to perpetuate social, economic and educational exclusion.

The more baffling paradox is why leaders of social movements of Dalits, tribal communities, minorities and most ironically the women’s movement have not raised their voice against iniquitous strategies and poor quality education. Dysfunctional rural schools rarely attract the attention of Dalit and tribal leaders – with the notable exception of the leadership in pre-Independence period and in the first two decades after Independence. Unfortunately, even this tendency was confined only to Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Kerala and to some degree other southern states. The relatively recent Dalit, OBC and Tribal leadership in the Hindi heartland, eastern states (with the exception of Mizoram) and western states (including Gujarat) have demanded 10 years of education of satisfactory quality and avenues for post secondary technical and vocational education. Yet, they remain silent when “transitional strategies” adopted to get out of school children into the formal stream are quietly institutionalised. For example, while the Madhya Pradesh EGS programme and Rajasthan’s Shiksha Karmi project responded to specific needs of the two states at a given point of time, there was little public debate on the future of these programmes. Should EGS schools and SKP schools remain the way they are or should they be “upgraded” to a formal elementary school with adequate infrastructure and teachers?

The Government of India made free and compulsory education a fundamental right of all children in the 6-14 age-group through the 86th Constitutional Amendment Act of 2002. The new Article 21A reads as follows: “Right to Education – The State shall provide free and compulsory education to all children of the age of six to fourteen years in such manner as the State may, by law, determine.” A corresponding “Free and Compulsory Education Bill, 2004’ has been drafted by the Ministry of Human Resources Development for consideration by the parliament. Some aspects of this draft bill are noteworthy:

While safeguards have been provided to ensure that formal schools cater to all children and that the transitional arrangements are strictly short-term – the situation on the ground tells a different story. Given the financial situation of most state governments, transitional strategies – meaning EGS and AS – are becoming the preferred option. For example, the EGS centres of MP are here to stay and the previous Congress Party led government took a decision to do away with formal school teachers and declared that in future “Gurujis” will be appointed. West Bengal and Rajasthan have also opted for contract teachers to meet the demands of an expanding elementary education system. Evidently, EGS and AS are becoming attractive models – especially when state governments are hard pressed for funds.

While schools managed and controlled by panchayats is a step in the right direction, the question remains why the formal school system – especially teacher cadre management (transfers and posting of teachers) – continues to remain outside the purview of panchayats. If EGS and AS models have shown that decentralised management, localised and school-specific appointment of teachers and regular monitoring by the panchayat can ensure regular functioning of schools, then why are state governments hesitating to bring the formal elementary school system under the purview of local self-government institutions? The answer does not lie in institutionalising a poor quality and low cost model for the most disadvantaged – when they actually merit greater investment of funds, human resources, teaching-learning material and lower teacher-pupil ratios to ensure greater care.

The final twist to the tale. Can all children who enter primary schools can actually go up to class 8 or class 10. According to Government of India there are 6,64,041 recognised primary schools (this does not include EGS and other alternative schools), 2,19,626 upper primary schools (there are no alternative schools catering to children at this level), 1,33,492 secondary schools. This implies that out of every 100 children who enter primary schools, only 33.1 per cent can move on to upper primary and 20.1 per cent to secondary school. The education system is so designed that all children cannot access elementary education, leave alone secondary education.

Who are the children who make it through the system? The answer is obvious – children who attend poor quality primary schools and alternative schools are the ones who drop out of the system. An attrition policy– both in terms of numbers as well as in terms of quality is built into the very structure. Only an exceptionally gifted child from a rural remote primary school can hope to make it to secondary school. Inequality is inherent in the system – right from the time a child is born till s/he becomes an adult.

What implication does this have for a democratic society? Do growing differences threaten the democratic fabric of our society? If the last fifteen years provides any indication, the consequences are frightening.

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