‘Look…not with your mind but with your eyes’—Krishnamurti uses this pithy line towards the very end of a talk with Rishi Valley students, during the course of which he makes a rare concession with regard to ‘how to’ and guides them in a step-by-step observation exercise:
‘First of all, sit completely quiet, comfortably, sit very quietly, relax, I will show you. Now, look at the trees, at the hills, the shape of the hills, look at them, look at the quality of their colour, watch them. Do not listen to me. Watch and see those trees…
And then, he makes the statement that this article opens with: ‘Look… not with your mind but with your eyes’.
Earlier in the same dialogue, he spent a considerable length of time drawing a careful distinction between ‘knowledge’ and ‘intelligence’ for his young audience. He said knowledge was a composite of the ‘scientific’, the ‘collective’ and the ‘personal’; yet asserted that it does not represent true intelligence. ‘Intelligence is the quality of the mind that is very sensitive, very alert, very aware’, he said, and then asked, ‘Now, is this intelligence being gathered by you here in this school? Are you gathering it or only gathering knowledge through books?’.
As teachers in the Krishnamurti schools, we often fret about not being handed a convenient template of how to teach in the classroom. Yet, the history teacher in me cannot but sense a tantalizing sliver of possibility, a tiny hint of opportunity in the above exchange.
Cut to the classroom
To take poetic license from a poem, if that is even possible, and to bend a line from Edwin Brock’s Five Ways to Kill a Man, there are many cumbersome ways to kill a child’s interest in a subject. And I have learned that for a history teacher, the simplest, most direct and neatest way to do it is to start a fresh class with a ‘when’ or ‘where’ question. It takes but a few sessions for an attentive teacher to notice that children learn in many different ways, and that while some have a head for facts and years, and the names of kings and queens and thrive on this, a considerable number are rather discouraged when there is an undue emphasis on the informational aspects of a topic. The thing is that a fact-based question has only one ‘right’ answer and children wise up to this very quickly. The few who know that specific piece of information which the teacher wants from them are quick to raise their hands, while the rest of the class has precious little to contribute to the proceedings. The unhappy fall-out to introducing history like this—as a bundle of names and facts—is that it is soon seen as a subject that is not for everyone.
This then is the twin-thrust of this article—to consider what is a good engagement model for children in their formative years of learning history which will keep them ‘hooked’ to the subject instead of making them feel inadequate, and at the same time critically examine the educational philosophy underlying these teaching-learning practices.
History that is accessible easily to children in a tangible, visceral manner is the art, sculpture and architecture of the land—temples, mosques, churches, forts, and even its performing arts. So, a field visit to these places can offer an excellent entry-point into their study: Look… not with your mind, but with your eyes—that line again.
A reflective teacher’s task here is to first help children identify what is ‘material’ and what is ‘physical’, and then to get them to touch it and feel it before beginning to study facts and information. As Krishnamurti’s statement reminds us, the emphasis therefore is not on what the child already knows, but on what she can observe and describe first-hand; and then see which exploratory paths of learning she will be encouraged to try.
To get children to slow down and patiently observe what is in front of them without letting prior knowledge cloud their vision requires structuring the lesson a little. A simple opening question (‘Describe the structure you are seeing in front of you’), an interactive worksheet (‘Count the number of elephants you see in this mural’), or a small visual cue (‘Did you notice the bend of the leg in that sculpture?’) will all help draw a student’s attention and focus. To be able to describe a picture well, he will also need to observe carefully and this process of closely describing material and structure will doubtless throw up questions. Significantly these will be the child’s own questions, not the teacher’s, which will then become triggers to further enquiry and study. This approach also fits with findings in developmental psychology that advocate a gradual transition from concrete sensory-based learning in the early and middle years of school, to more conceptual and research-based learning in the later years.
Most importantly, knowing that the teacher is not looking for only one answer throws open the discussion to the class for wider participation. Every child feels confident in volunteering an observation or a description based on what she is seeing. When a group of students realize that although they are all looking at the same object, each sees something subtly different and thus describes it differently. This brings about the powerful realization that despite claims of being objective, history is fraught with subjective interpretation. Experiencing a multiplicity of personal responses first-hand enables young students to keep an open mind about the notion of ‘truth’ in history. Pedagogically speaking, in an approach like this, the learning possibilities are endless:
• Observation of physical structures and sites allows one to look for patterns and styles as well as helps in finding a connection between what one is seeing and what one knows or may have read about.
• Also, when material history is all we have, unsupported by other sources of information like literature, it is quite likely that there will be more than one interpretation even by scholars. This teaches one to be comfortable with ambiguity, and sometimes with ‘not knowing’ despite taking the trouble to follow up on questions by probing deeply.
• To know that in physical exploration, every visit offers the possibility of noticing something new or in a fresh way. In the process, the previous patterns one saw may also change. Stereotypes can be challenged, and surprising insights can be gleaned. For example, students may observe that not only are followers of other religions responsible for vandalism in religious sites, but also followers from the same religion. They might note that several awe-inspiring examples of strong independent women exist in Indian sculpture across the country.
• Finally, this encourages students to learn not only from what is present, but at times from what is missing. For instance, the fact that there are no depictions of warfare in Indus Valley art will suggest something to a curious child.
What enables this model of learning is privileging contact over content, and the willingness of the teacher to be not just a facilitator but also a co participant. Such exposure to the ‘built heritage’ or ‘material heritage’ can offer nuanced and timeless lessons, especially in the age we live in. It helps students to learn how to work without succumbing to the need for instant gratification, and to hone their individual observation skills without undue reliance on tools or technologies.
Children are now growing up in an age where very little is long-lived, what with disappearing messages and images, use-and-throw garments and appliances, and rapidly changing interests and opinions! In such times as these, it becomes especially important to recognize and appreciate the permanence that physical heritage offers, especially when it is rare to come by.
Above all, what is most relevant is what Krishnamurti says at the end of the same dialogue that was mentioned earlier:
You have finished looking at the things outside, and now with your eyes closed you can look at what is happening inside… And when you do this, do you know what happens to you? You become very sensitive, you become very alert to things outside and inside. Then you find out that the outside is the inside.
Isn’t this after all what a history teacher could attempt to do with his students?