celina-down-the-elephant-hole

First-grader Shaktivel with his journal. 


This is what I came up with for the Rising Star newsletter. Since you make up my coterie, you'll be privy to the added comments in parentheses.

"As difficult as it is to believe, we are already at the end of our first term at Perry Matriculation School. Just two more to go for this school year! [Yikes! Are we learning enough?? Will I ever be ready to leave?] The children are eagerly anticipating spending their autumn break with family or relatives. [And I worry and worry that they won't be safe or won't get enough to eat.] In the meanwhile, we will miss their rambunctious personalities and endearing faces. [Well, kinda sorta. Today was the last day of school and I'm not crying. I love them desperately but not as desperately as I am longing for a hiatus.]

The students and teachers are proud of their outstanding achievements over the past few months. We are [that is, I am; no one else is really keeping track] particularly thrilled with our recent improvement in writing. Children in Indian matriculation schools tend not to learn how to compose anything of their own, but just to memorize or copy phrases from the textbook. It is typical for children to spend years in school without ever writing a creative story or even an imaginative sentence. [id est: any sentence drawn from the noggin]

We [royal "we"] countered this last January by issuing journals to students in grades 1-4, and then rearranging the schedule to allow them time each day for their compositions. Older students started writing essays in English class. The beginning was haltingly slow. Children would stare blankly when asked to retell the Gingerbread Man in their own written words. But it soon caught on, and each day brought new progress. [yes, yes, all true]

Now, less than a year later, we are nothing short of astonished at the beautiful handwriting and expressive voices we encounter in the children’s journals. Thank you to the many volunteers who have spent countless hours correcting them for us. [I'm thinking, exempli gratia, of Robin who volunteered for a week and spent the entire time with red pen in hand] Collectively, you are helping us to lay the foundation of a great work!"

Third grade: simultaneously the bane of my existence and my pride and joy (but more on that later). Wait, I do miss them, and they haven't even left campus yet. The sincerest little souls.

 Kishor's journal