When we are young, we think it is our birth right, an ideal dream even, to change the world in utopian ways. We read four books, and then we are out on the roads for revolutions against injustice, for bringing ‘change.’ Without measuring the meaning behind the word ‘change,’ we delve into a fusillade of allegations against those who should have or could have worked for it. Understanding the world from newspapers, books, theories and textual histories, from the privileged shells wrapping around us, we forget the value of real-world experience. The belief that a scholar can invent ways to improve the condition of an unprivileged vendor from an oppressed caste without having stepped out in their world is shattered to pieces once one learns the actual difference between theory and practice, between the idea of change and the truth comprising of a complex web of multi-layered realities, different for each one of us.
After studying literature and cultural studies, I was drawn to the idea of contributing to ‘change’ through teaching and research. I believed that a teacher could shape young minds. At the same time, the power to bring change resides not with a few scattered scholars but with the united masses. The romanticized idea of being a ‘true scholar,’ as injected by the exposure to campus politics for a couple of years, was to become a keen observer, a critical thinker, a voracious reader, a passionate writer, and a rigorous activist. However, I could never fit the phenomenon of teaching in this schema, let alone teaching in a rural area, after staying in urban academic spaces for almost a decade.
As I went to teach English literature and language in a small government college in a rural area, I began wondering if I had gone away from what I should have been doing. My should-have-been, could-have-been revolved around going to a big university campus for a doctorate, to study the dark, gloomy sides of rural India in a globally recognized university of a metropolitan city outside India. Here, I represent the prototype of average Indian scholars or scholars-to-be, trying their best to delve deeper into the ‘dark realities’ by staying as far from them as possible. But as I stepped inside a small college to teach, my ideology, my way of observing the world, my entire life went topsy-turvy. Indian postcolonial critic Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak sums up this phenomenon in the remark, ‘First world scholar in search of the third world.’ An average urban Indian scholar is not far from this, with rural areas being the third world compared to metropolitan cities.
Each day, each lecture presented a new challenge to me. Some days, I would be shocked to find eighteen-year-olds unable to spell a word as simple as ‘fruit.’ How could I teach them about literature and society? Seeing my complacent, constantly exhausted, tea-drinking colleagues, having neither any spark in their eyes nor the zeal to bring change, I felt repulsive towards the system. Can one change the system only by protesting against it from outside? I started feeling otherwise as the days passed. I developed warm bonds with people, both colleagues and students, so much so that I am barely saving myself from passing into the tea-drinking-government-college-professors category. But as I started from scratch in my classrooms, from discussions on life, education, art, purpose and society, I realized that rural classrooms are the largest experimental laboratories, brimming with the possibilities of ‘change.’ Activism cannot be confined to holding candle marches and sit-ins at the centre of large campuses. It starts at the heartlands of nation-states – the villages. It starts from the academic spaces where the future of any society is getting shaped. Every student who understands the importance of ideas, discussions and critical thinking, is a revolution, a seed of change in themselves.
Sometimes, life seems exhausting, with or without the idea of bringing change. We chase goals throughout our lives, walking, stumbling, getting hurt. One day, finally, we reach there. Then, what? What water have we turned to wine? Which four students of your class are ready to conquer the world? Which sacred song have you composed with your naïve desire to bring change?
What is ‘change’? We chase the need and the means to bring change long enough until the realization that each thought planted in a student is a seed of change. Each lesson students learn and embrace can become a gift to the world. Revolutions do not come in days or weeks. Not everyone you teach will grow up to change the world. However, that does not lessen the value of teaching.
Every learning journey is different; it can be simple or demanding. It can emerge as an engaging activity or a long, arduous process. At present, I am still learning to make people think and smile!
About the Author
Paridhi Khanna
Paridhi Khanna is an Assistant Professor of English at Government College, Derabassi, Punjab. She completed her Master’s in English literature and cultural studies from Panjab University, Chandigarh. Paridhi is dedicated to exploring art cinema, postcolonial poetry, visual storytelling, Indian art and literature.
