Spring season is here, but there are no natural flowers budding in Bangalore. All you can see are flowers in pots, and all these pots sit on high-rise buildings. There are hardly any colors on the ground. In Bhutan, this time of the year is a celebration of spring. It would be indescribably beautiful. Holi, the Indian festival of colors, still lingers. You can see many garlands of flowers in florist shops and many displays of color powders (raags). You can also see many college students with faint, unwashed colors on their faces.
Colors make our life. They add beauty to our lives. We love colors. But it seems one of the teachers in my previous school was quite dull when it came to colors. The teacher simply didn't care about them. I remember this:
In one of the final exams (2008) for mathematics, there was a question on coloring different shapes—triangles, circles, squares, etc.—for Class I. Some students were provided with colors, but not enough; many didn't have any. I didn't realize how poor our education system was in some remote schools like Tsirangtoe Lower School in Tsirang. The storekeeper said sadly before the exam that the store was out of stock of color boxes. "The government can't buy everything now," he said. He was damn right, but where could some poor students get colors in their lives? That was another gripping story. But good things took a turn after a year. Farm roads soon came to Tsirangtoe's villages, bringing in a good amount of cash through work and selling products. This made even the poor able to sweep hundred-rupee notes frequently from their hands. The government always has a way, I learned from this instance.
Now, coming back to that color exam: a teacher also always has a way. So, the teacher slowly dictated to those who had no colors that they should write the words RED, GREEN, BLUE, etc., inside the blank shapes. Helen Keller knew all the names of colors, but she hardly knew what red or blue was because she became blind before she could grasp the world of color perception.
Coming out of the exam hall, I pulled a student aside behind the exam building and gave him a test. I asked him if he could name all the colors, which he did perfectly well—like a parrot. Then I picked a blue rose from the nearby garden and asked him its color. He gave a deep look at the blue rose, hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "...um... red, sir." I smiled back and said, "Roses are not always red. There are blue and white roses too. This is blue." The student directly cussed me, saying that he didn't care about anything besides marks in the exam, and he confidently announced that he had written whatever the teacher dictated. He was right. Just marks would do.
And that was it. Some of our underfed students, if asked to name colors, could name all twelve different colors. But if asked to identify among twelve different colors, they had no choice but to think hard and say blue for red, green for yellow, and black for white. Why? Because they have not seen colors practically, even though they have two big bull's eyes. Our teaching lacks practicality and applicability. We are made of theories. There are many instances where computer degree holders could not operate computers. What a shame! Jobs demand experience, not so many theories, and not so much dictating from chairs. Some of our Lyonpos and ministers simply speak good poetry from their chairs.
The purpose of learning is knowing something. Isn't that true? Knowing the colors. How can students develop cognition and recognize things? Whose weakness was it? The concerned teacher? The storekeeper? The examination system? Or the education system of the country? We must think about this and avoid being blind despite having two bulging eyes to identify everything. A good point here: Helen Keller was blind and deaf, yet someone colored her life.
Colors make our life. They add beauty to our lives. We love colors. But it seems one of the teachers in my previous school was quite dull when it came to colors. The teacher simply didn't care about them. I remember this:
In one of the final exams (2008) for mathematics, there was a question on coloring different shapes—triangles, circles, squares, etc.—for Class I. Some students were provided with colors, but not enough; many didn't have any. I didn't realize how poor our education system was in some remote schools like Tsirangtoe Lower School in Tsirang. The storekeeper said sadly before the exam that the store was out of stock of color boxes. "The government can't buy everything now," he said. He was damn right, but where could some poor students get colors in their lives? That was another gripping story. But good things took a turn after a year. Farm roads soon came to Tsirangtoe's villages, bringing in a good amount of cash through work and selling products. This made even the poor able to sweep hundred-rupee notes frequently from their hands. The government always has a way, I learned from this instance.
Now, coming back to that color exam: a teacher also always has a way. So, the teacher slowly dictated to those who had no colors that they should write the words RED, GREEN, BLUE, etc., inside the blank shapes. Helen Keller knew all the names of colors, but she hardly knew what red or blue was because she became blind before she could grasp the world of color perception.
Coming out of the exam hall, I pulled a student aside behind the exam building and gave him a test. I asked him if he could name all the colors, which he did perfectly well—like a parrot. Then I picked a blue rose from the nearby garden and asked him its color. He gave a deep look at the blue rose, hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "...um... red, sir." I smiled back and said, "Roses are not always red. There are blue and white roses too. This is blue." The student directly cussed me, saying that he didn't care about anything besides marks in the exam, and he confidently announced that he had written whatever the teacher dictated. He was right. Just marks would do.
And that was it. Some of our underfed students, if asked to name colors, could name all twelve different colors. But if asked to identify among twelve different colors, they had no choice but to think hard and say blue for red, green for yellow, and black for white. Why? Because they have not seen colors practically, even though they have two big bull's eyes. Our teaching lacks practicality and applicability. We are made of theories. There are many instances where computer degree holders could not operate computers. What a shame! Jobs demand experience, not so many theories, and not so much dictating from chairs. Some of our Lyonpos and ministers simply speak good poetry from their chairs.
The purpose of learning is knowing something. Isn't that true? Knowing the colors. How can students develop cognition and recognize things? Whose weakness was it? The concerned teacher? The storekeeper? The examination system? Or the education system of the country? We must think about this and avoid being blind despite having two bulging eyes to identify everything. A good point here: Helen Keller was blind and deaf, yet someone colored her life.
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