The role of a teacher in a small school based on Krishnamurti’s teachings is difficult to define. This is not because all the big and small tasks required of the teacher are impossible to list; but more so because many of these tasks are ever emerging as fresh situations present themselves. I would liken this most to living together in a large joint family where one is responsible for everything. It is not that every task depends on your doing it; but that you must keep abreast of all ongoing activities so that you can take decisions that maintain a wholesome family dynamic.
These schools have been established as ‘centres of learning’ both for adults as well as children. What makes a place a ‘centre of learning’? This is a primary question for the teacher. While it may be impossible to ‘know’ what creates a place of learning, it is possible to discern what comes in the way of learning. This ‘negative’ approach enables easier discernment and thus becomes an important guiding factor.
An educator in these schools has many responsibilities and not because these responsibilities have been ‘given’ to one. That would make the ‘giver’ of responsibilities an ‘authority’ and the one to whom they are ‘given to’ a subordinate. These responsibilities that need to be shared or shouldered— a word we often use at Shibumi! Apart from the fact that there are too many to list here, these responsibilities are also very interconnected. However, for the purpose of communication, I will attempt to categorize them here:
- Responsibility to the world
- Responsibility to the school
- Responsibility to the group of adults or colleagues
- Responsibility for the work at school
- Responsibility to the students
- Responsibility to the parents
- Responsibility to oneself
In this article I explore the first three of these responsibilities and intend to take up the other aspects in a later article. I feel it would be best to start with ‘responsibility to the world’, for isn’t that a reason why many of us teachers came to these places? Seeing the disorder in the world, one seeks a place where it is possible to work towards leaving that disorder behind. Meanwhile, of course, we do have to live in that disorder; it is all around us, as well as within us. We cannot wish it away. And just because I come to a place with a different intention, the disorder does not go away. There is often cynicism in young minds regarding the state of the world, not realizing that the cynicism and self-centredness of many generations is the very reason for the present state of the world. The common tendency is to become alienated from the world through seeking distractions, struggling with boredom, or striving for material success. Seeing this, it is important to feel this need to live in the world but not be of the world, and to communicate this to others. To see for oneself that ‘we are the world’, and show this to others, is among the primary responsibilities of a teacher in these schools.
One of the founders of our school, Kabir Jaithirtha, used to say that the ‘transformation of the mind’ is the biggest part of the work, or even the only work of the school; all else will then find its right place. As a younger person then, I could hardly engage with this statement. As it didn’t make sense, I thought it best to let it be; but I later realized that there can be no interest in this inquiry into the disorder in the world, if you don’t engage with this ‘impossible question’. Moreover, there is no such thing as transforming only one’s personal or individual mind. No change in this realm can be partial. So, working together as a group, talking through agreements and disagreements, engaging in dialogue, setting aside quiet time, are just some of the ways of keeping a questioning mind alive. One needs to question one’s habits; one’s existing practices both within us and in society; and continue exploring sustainable ideas of change. This creates an atmosphere of inquiry.
This brings me to the second point. A teacher in these schools is both the creator and the protector of the atmosphere of inquiry. Creator, because this atmosphere is not carried forward simply through established practices and structures. It is co-created in the moment. The teacher is also its protector, as this very non-settled quality is the genesis of a fresh mind — a mind that can examine the conditioning and functioning of human consciousness. As soon as we settle into, and accept or reject a way of living, deterioration begins.
Young minds coming into such schools as ours are exposed to a way of living that is not based on rules, but much more on looking, listening, questioning and developing sensitivity. They feel empowered as they discover non-conformist ways of meeting situations and people who are willing to accompany them through this. They also have a natural curiosity, which would get blunted if we spent all that energy on fighting for or against rules. As a society, our minds are often trained to either conform or rebel, and these urges blunt our perceptions rather than help us develop a sense of clarity and sensitivity to situations.
As an educator, one is constantly juggling many tasks: there are subjects to teach, correction work, keeping in touch with the parents both as a co-enquirer and a teacher of their child, maintenance of school buildings and grounds, kitchen work, administrative work, looking after the well-being of fellow teachers, non-teaching staff, and so on. These tasks may not all appear to be within the purview of a teacher’s responsibilities, but in a small school it is important — nay, imperative — that one is involved to some extent in all areas of running the school.
The kitchen at Shibumi is an excellent example to illustrate this. We have a relatively small kitchen here that caters for around sixty people. It is also a collaborative space where many interesting conversations happen: conversations about likes and dislikes, specific preferences, health concerns about food, making contingency plans to meet a fuel shortage, and so on. A lot of excitement is generated around the menu in the morning when a student group comes in to help. Parents who come to help with the cooking also become a part of these conversations, which continue well beyond the helping hour, spilling over into the classrooms and even back home. In fact, a lot of attitudes as well as vulnerabilities become evident in this context. Teachers need to share this space with the child and the parent, so that the conversation is not merely a negotiation, but also helps one in learning about one’s own nature, the human tendency for greed, and social conditioning.
As an example, when the kitchen has chocolates or sweet treats, there is much excitement. A lot of deals are made well before they are served and there is a tendency to take more than one’s fair share, or more than is good for one’s body. Kitchen duty becomes the occasion to talk about these tendencies. One such moment of clarity came up when a student pointed out that often older people talk about how, as youngsters, they ate a lot more food during weddings and festivals. While this may have been the case, while conversing we realize that this was in fact greed, and does not need to be repeated just for the pleasure of recounting stories from one’s youth. While one need not feel guilty for past actions, one must not offer it as a justification for such behaviour in the present. There is, instead, the possibility of learning a different response now, and both the teacher and the student can participate in this together.
The sports field is another place where a lot of instinctive emotions come to the surface. It is not only a space to build physical fitness and team spirit, but also a ‘laboratory’ for studying the effects of comparison and cruelty, as well as the benefits of acceptance and working together. When the playground is occupied by a mixed-age group, including adults from the school community, it can become a very inclusive space. Minimizing competition does not just imply not keeping the ‘score’ against other teams, but ensuring that all players feel included. This requires complete commitment and not fussing about individual abilities. It becomes a delight to share such a space with students where at one level we are all equal, yet at another the teacher remains the more responsible presence.
On one occasion the senior school students were very keen on organizing an in-house football tournament with four teams, each team including people of all ages. There was a lot of care in the proposal, in which the proposed teams, apart from all the students, every teacher who was fit, wished to or could be persuaded to play were included. The six-to-ten age group would play a twenty-minute-long game and earn points for their teams. Then the older ones would play. Since we had spoken a lot about why competitions are not encouraged in our schools, the older students were sure that their whole-hearted participation would the most important thing and that feelings such as anger, hate, jealousy, shame, elation or superiority would not arise. But as we went through the tournament, these raw emotions did emerge and could not be hidden. Fifteen minutes were set aside every day after the game to talk about what came up. The fact that the teachers were present on the field ensured that we had open conversations. These conversations were amazing and this way of co-creating a learning space has been an incredible experience.
For the adult and the child, coming to school signifies something slightly different. It is generally assumed that while children come to school for a wide range of learning, the teachers mostly come to share with them their specific field of knowledge. However, in a small school if adults come in with a very specialized attitude towards learning, based on their subject preferences, it is impossible to create a holistic learning atmosphere. There needs to be an overall interest in the school’s whole programme to be able to understand what allows for or blocks the flow of learning in students and in themselves. This requires a much broader interest and an ongoing dialogue between the teachers. Only through such a dialogue can self-learning gain vitality. Therefore, even while teaching their subjects, adults must keep in mind an overall sense of what the students are learning at all times.
The teachers, along with parents, are children’s windows to the world as well as their filtering mechanism. Many kinds of influences are waiting to grab and tame the mind, and at a much faster rate in today’s world. An influence, by definition, is something one gets attracted to. Students often display curiosity for what is in vogue, while also having a fear of being left out. This becomes a difficult area for them to navigate by themselves. When mass influences affect students, teachers often become the ‘filter’ that stands between them and the influence. A teacher can raise questions and open conversations, not with the intention of influencing them in another way, but to give them a taste of a questioning, inquiring approach that shows the possibility of not just succumbing to influences or being indifferent to a situation. Many a time one needs to be the blocker of influences too. Children need protection from exposure to harmful media or drugs; they also need to be helped to question the normalizing of inappropriate sexual behavior or violence in society. Only then can their minds become sensitive to these dangers.
School excursions are another significant opportunity for journeying together with students. These are possibly the most memorable learning experiences that a student can have. While family holidays tend to be comfort-driven and exclusive affairs, with limited opportunities of meeting or learning from others, school trips are designed to be a window into the wider world. They can also be fun and full of unexpected possibilities. Last year, on a school trip to Gujarat, about ten of us were trekking along the beach between Somnath and Porbandar. We heard of a small Hanuman temple built by a German woman that allowed travellers to stay overnight. Curious, we made our way there to find a beautifully-built mosaic structure — a perfect labour of love — that not only allowed us to stay but also provided us with food. There was another large group there of padayatris (walking pilgrims) from all over India who were on a pilgrimage from Somnath to Dwarka. It was an incredible experience, listening to their stories and songs. We all shared the dormitory and the stars for one night, and then went our own way the next morning.
It is understandable that middle-class ideas of travel are changing rapidly, with plenty of ‘packaged’ experiences, and so most adults don’t have an exposure to more open-ended ways of traveling. However, schools like ours do manage to carry on such trips to some extent. An important factor in their continuity is the stories passed down from one batch of students to another. As the main responsibility for organizing school trips lies with the teachers, these trips are only possible if there are teachers who have experienced such excursions and are around to guide younger teachers in undertaking such trips. When the teacher body is itself changing rapidly, it is easy to lose this important pillar of education.
This brings me to the responsibility of continuing to work in such schools. While it is true that meeting challenges and responding to situations happens in the moment, a deepening of enquiry comes by engaging with it over some years. If a student comes to the school for twelve years, and if his teacher is there only for part of that time, say, three or four years, there will be an imbalance in the relationship. Teachers, like parents, are pillars in a student’s life. A constantly changing teacher body doesn’t allow for the school to become a stable space where inquiry can take root. For adults who are easily prone to moving on, it shows a certain lack of clarity of mind, for one should come to a ‘centre of learning’ because one is interested in the process of inquiry.
However, no place is ever perfect, since the community that holds the place is made up of the people who are there, with their various talents, tendencies, as well as discontent. Instead of continuing to question oneself and working at one’s discontent, if one simply moves away, the inquiry weakens and old confusions remains. Therefore, the responsibility of a teacher is to question, be questioned, not lose affection, and so participate in clearing the clutter. In a small school, this cannot be someone else’s responsibility. This is the only way we can create more such centres of inquiry. Without such a living culture of inquiry, questions will subside, and only the institution will remain.
The role of each person in the group, or the sangha, as my friend and colleague Tanushree calls it, is essential. The group is working together to co-create the school. It can never be an individual’s vision or effort. Many brains, hands and shoulders are needed to sustain a school, its physical running as well as its broader curriculum. One needs to talk together, challenge, be challenged, and change when needed so that such a living environment of inquiry can thrive. In this process of working together, many tendencies are revealed and challenged. It is the responsibility of the individual as well as the group that these challenges are made and accepted with affection. Conflicts remain conflicts only when the ‘personal’ feels threatened and one closes up; otherwise, this can be an occasion for together attempting to come upon clarity in various situations.
The true purpose of inquiry is to arrive at clarity. The personal angle may come up regularly in our lives, but that does not make it more valid. There cannot be ‘my clarity’ and ‘your clarity’; there is only clarity. Therefore, the notions of agreeing, disagreeing and agreeing to disagree are rooted in the false. This is an aspect of working together in which we need to look after each other. Reading Krishnamurti’s writing and having a dialogue together can often act as a great checkpoint in this learning. These writings always pose a direct challenge and do so with utmost love and affection. They are directed at each individual and are yet cannot be construed as personal challenges. This seems to me like the only way of living and working together. Otherwise, we will find ourselves very often at the crossroads of conflict, with the exit route feeling like the most feasible road to take.
The group of people in a small school inevitably spend a lot of time together and for this reason too we have great responsibility for each other’s’ well-being. Well-being is not a personal thing; it is always in the context of the group. The right food, proper exercise, enough money, quiet time, time for engaging in interests—these are no longer seen as one’s personal lookouts but are supported by the group. Things might not always work out according to each one’s expectations, but immense possibilities open up when people come to think and feel together. And this needs participation, openness and a capacity to look beyond the personal and consider the whole.
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Intelligence is the capacity to perceive the essential, the what is; to awaken this capacity, in oneself and in others, is education.
— J. Krishnamurti, in Education and the Significance of Life