Annual Concert

The twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth of September were the days when Darla School celebrated its annual concert. Preparations began almost two to three weeks in advance with lots of rehearsals—because nothing says "fun" like hearing the same Bamboo dance track 400 times. The whole school remained busy and much more active than usual, which is saying something for a place that runs on tea breaks.

Since the Darla weather becomes pleasant during this time of the year, the enjoyment increases tremendously. But unfortunately, in the evenings it rained cats and dogs. That didn’t deter people from coming to watch the show. Clearly, they had nothing better to do. The MPH was full by 6 pm.

The function began at 6 p.m. as per schedule—shockingly, on time for once. First, our cultural coordinator welcomed the Chief Guest, other guests, and the audience. He also spoke about the varieties of interesting items lining up in the program. Spoiler: most were exactly what you'd expect. The two-day variety show went on to the next day. There were Boedras, Zhungdras, Rigsars, English dances, Hindi, Nepali, Bamboo dances, fashion shows, etc.—a cultural buffet where no one could decide on a main course.

The program would have been interesting if the emcee had told a short but hilarious speech full of anecdotes in-between—which everyone would like the most. But alas, we got the usual script. Maybe next year.

The concert was conducted to inculcate wholesome education. Because nothing teaches morality like watching a fashion show in a school auditorium.

The audience must have enjoyed the concert tremendously, judging from the loud applause as the curtains dropped. Or maybe they were just relieved it was over. The Bamboo dance performed by class VI boys and girls was very beautiful. The music was loud and appeasing—sorry, pleasing. One ear at a time.

Looking at the audience response, everyone enjoyed the concert very much. I am very surprised that there were so many talented students in this school. Almost as if they'd been hiding them all year to save them for this one night.

It was a well-organized show; students, teachers, and parents admired it. Though the cost of the ticket was a bit costly. Every student had to pay Nu. 80 to watch an evening show, which is far beyond what some disadvantaged parents can afford. All of my class four students couldn’t watch the program, as they said that Nu. 80 was too much for all of their brothers and sisters to watch. I really felt sorry for them. Because nothing says "wholesome education" like pricing kids out of their own school concert. Bravo.

Teachers’ Crumb

People often summarize that every Tom, Dick, and Harry can teach. Which is hilarious, because most Toms, Dicks, and Harrys I know can barely hammer the nail correctly, let alone handle thirty restless children armed with questions. Such a statement fails to recognize what truly makes a teacher. There are those who merely go through the motions and those who truly teach. There are teachers who follow only their lesson plans and those who plan their lessons for meaningful teaching—and then there are those who lose their lesson plans entirely and fake it till recess.

Sometimes, educationists themselves unfairly stereotype their own colleagues. For example, some of my previous heads—who otherwise could have been inspiring—have made obscure remarks like, "Anyone can teach." Such comments make teachers feel unsteady and morally disheartened. A good teacher who wholeheartedly teaches effectively in the classroom, using a variety of instructional materials and teaching approaches, and who strives to change each student's life for the better, is categorized alongside those who do not even attend their classes. Yes, because showing up and changing lives is clearly the same as not showing up at all.

I believe this leads to unrefined, unpolished, and raw teaching. The entire process becomes casual, and in the end, the teacher loses his or her good rapport with students, the school, and the community. Also their will to live, but that's another paragraph.

In Bhutanese culture and traditions, and according to our religious perspectives, teachers were always held in high esteem. They were looked upon as moral guides and as geniuses by society. This reverence, however, had an adverse effect on the quality of education. Wait, let me read that again—too much respect was the problem? That's like saying too much cake ruined my diet. This reverence has now disappeared. Some see this as an outcome of development and changing times. The credit goes to individual achievement, and we forget who shaped and molded our lives. We must respect a person for what they do, not for what they have. The nation sometimes never asks who is behind the shaping and building of its citizens. It’s the person who spent their Sunday evening grading your grammar.

I would therefore argue, briefly but firmly, that teachers should have space—good space. Not the cramped, dusty corner near the supply closet. Real space. They are the ones who clean the muddy channels and drain them to create a good space for every individual. Which is poetic, but also—have you seen a staff room?

Teachers must be uplifted and preferred, for they are never relieved of their responsibilities, even during vacations. Besides daily lesson plans and eight hours of teaching, there are paper corrections, assessments, and numerous activities lined up: sports, cultural events, SUPW, literary events, and so on. The list goes on. Teachers are parents, guides, exemplars, and more. They must remain in formal dress and maintain discipline throughout their lives. It is more work, less reward. Ideally, exclusive teaching should be a teacher's only job. Currently, it's teaching, counseling, parenting, mediating, first-aiding, and occasionally finding a lost shoe.

A teacher is seen as a silent and very small entity in the kingdom of various jobs. Gradually, the idea that "everyone can teach" is shockingly accepted as unquestionably true and legitimate by many people. Which is odd, because the same people panic at the thought of explaining fractions to a nine-year-old. If we look at ourselves judiciously, the teacher is on exhibition, observed daily by thousands of curious, imitating eyes called students. No pressure. Teachers, therefore, must have great personalities. They are paragons, like our great leaders. Also like our great leaders, they are expected to smile while being exhausted.

The school is a microcosm of society, and teachers are the spirit within it. They are governed by a strong adherence to a code of conduct and ethics. And coffee. Mostly coffee.

Besides imparting knowledge and information, a teacher makes the world a better place to live in. A good teacher is a philosopher who understands life and provides leadership in society. Also knows where the extra chalk is hidden. Do not underestimate this power.

A teacher is a master of teaching and, at the same time, possesses fundamental knowledge of all subjects. John Adams said, "The verb 'to teach' governs two accusatives—the subject and the pupils." John clearly never had to teach on a Friday afternoon before a holiday.

Teaching demands high intelligence and intellectual curiosity. A teacher should reason, tackle problems, and solve them successfully. For example: how to get thirty children to sit still after lunch. Still unsolved.

For these reasons, a teacher should be fluent in expression and also good in writing. A teacher is always enthusiastic in three ways: in child study, in their subject, and in matters of method—because they live with these every day. Also enthusiastic about the final bell. Very enthusiastic.

Teaching is a deliberate, intentional act requiring strong professional and personal qualities. Does a teacher receive professional enhancement from time to time? Not often. A teacher supplements the role of parents at school. A teacher's influence lasts eternally, and their effects are always constructive, bringing about social change—and occasionally, a decent exam result.

In short, a teacher advises, guides, and teaches. A teacher is the most useful tool in their social life—trustworthy, qualified, hardworking, intelligent, cooperative, disciplined, and helpful to the school's students, administration, and society as a whole. Also underpaid, overworked, and somehow still expected to be cheerful about it. But sure. Anyone can teach.

Lemme Limp (Imported Culture)

A lemming is a doomed conformist—one who blindly follows others and brings destruction to all. Sounds dramatic, doesn't it? But watch us in action, and you'll see the resemblance.

Are we ambiguous? Are we easily influenced? If so, our rich cultural heritage will soon become invisible in the lives of Bhutanese people. It will acquire new forms and meanings, implanted with contemporary significance, but at the cost of its original essence. we'll trade our soul for a remix.

Culture is important and has become a pivotal approach for our country's survival. Sikkim was not subjugated because of weak rulers, land, or religion, but because of its weak cultural resistance. Sikkim shared a similar culture with its neighbor, India, which made it easy to absorb into their map. Convenient, isn't it? Same food, same clothes, same festivals—why bother drawing a new border? I believe we survive because of our diversity. We must maintain our unique diversity to live on happily—not necessarily import others' cultures to become one. But tell that to someone blasting Hindi remixes at full volume at 6 a.m.

Many of our spiritual practitioners believe that culture is faith in God. They pursue and examine from far across the borders, and what they practice inevitably has cultural effects on our country. That is why we have mixed religion with tradition. Yet our culture was never, and has ever been, religion.  Faith or belief in God is little different from culture. Culture is our traditions, customs, and ways of life. Our civilizations, ethos, and philosophies are all part of our culture—but not religion. We take care of culture, and gradually religion has become culture. Culture has dominated religion. This is not real religion. It's more like religion wearing culture's clothes and hoping no one notices.

Consider our lifestyle: ceremonials, rituals, and festivals are merely formal procedures. I would say they are only religious convictions. Impressive on the outside, empty on the inside—like a tshechu selfie without the actual dance.

Ask anyone: "Does religion change?" The obvious answer is no. But inconsiderate thinkers may feel that religion does change. As a result, our culture keeps on changing. We can never truly keep up with culture. Different cultures will continue to trespass over time. What makes Bhutan Bhutanese? It is our unique culture, our unique citizens, our ethos and values of life. It is our culture—not religion. 

But in this globalized world, we have brought in many different cultures and practices. Bishwas Karma Puja, for instance, is not a Buddhist practice. Loud, noisy Hindi music is not our way of making music. We never decorated vehicles with appliqué cloth or put sindoor on our lhakhangs. We have a simple way of performing our own rituals—sprinkling holy water, lighting incense sticks on a car or any object. This we call lhapsang. Simple, elegant, and mercifully quiet.

I am concerned that in Bhutan, some people think that embarking on development means adopting other cultures and traditions. Our young people, in particular, are inclined to exploit and expose themselves to all other values and beliefs. But change does not mean adapting to other cultures and losing one's own. It also doesn't mean confusing "modern" with "someone else's."

Bhutanese losars, mask dances, and other traditions are gradually being overtaken by Christmas, Diwali, free dance styles, and even violence. Indian and Western films, songs, and cultures have shaped our ways. These were never the mass culture of a Buddhist country like ours. Yet they have intercepted and become serious norms today. People talk of GNH, conserving traditions, culture, peace, and tranquility.

I believe being content with what we have is the basic GNH of all. There is no need to adopt ideas in cultural and spiritual heritage simply because they come from developed and powerful countries. We already have rich values within ourselves. 

The coming months are festival months. Crops are being harvested. Tshechus are approaching in many dzongkhags, and the Birth Anniversary of the Fourth King will be celebrated. But for many people, nothing will be more enjoyable than Dausheri. It is celebrated everywhere—in school compounds, on the streets, in villages—everywhere. I remember people dancing to Hindi music, getting drunk, and shaking like Shakira. Everyone would laugh and enjoy. That was happiness. Yet this happiness comes from others' values, not from our own internal happiness. We are masala—a mixture of so many other ingredients. We are interested in behaving like others. But do Indians, Koreans, or the English dance our type of dances? They may not have even heard of our traditional dances, let alone be made to dance them. Imagine forcing a Bollywood fan to do a mask dance. 

For the next few weeks, the singing of Bailoram and Dausheri will almost knock you out of your peaceful sleep. The distant song of Dausheri will remind us of a picturesque scene from some Ramayana film we once watched. We will barely open our eyes, as it may be midnight. We will lie there thinking, "Why is Bhutan only India? And why is India not Bhutan?" At this rate, we might need a passport just to feel Bhutanese again.

Note: This article was originally posted in 2013. Little changes have been made. Sadly, little else has changed either.

Reading Week

Darla school observed reading week from 8-13^th September. We have designed different activities for different classes. We have random reading, selected reading, book talk, quiz, and mass reading. Our theme of the reading week this year was ‘Learn to Read and Read to Learn.’ And there is nothing that we had to explain on this theme.  We also said ‘Read Charo Read’ so that they could read and share with their friends, encourage friends to read, and learn something.

This year we had Readers Theater by classes’ pp-III. It was nice to see them reading and acting. We awarded them prizes for their hard works. We also had one English and Dzongkha reading every day by the assigned classes. And followed by a book review and quiz. One of the most interesting parts of our reading section this year was mass reading. On Friday, we deducted five minutes from each period and made time for the mass reading after the seventh period. For one hour, everyone; both teachers and students came out from the class and read outside. Some sat in a round circle and read with their class teachers. Some even sat on the steps and read. Some walk and read. It was quite interesting to see students and teachers engrossed in reading something.

I have this rhetoric question now. “Am I reading enough?”  Yes, I have been reading, and I have read hundreds of books. My bookshelves are filled with all old collections of books beginning from Hardy’s novels, Dickens, Chekhov’s work, and the latest books of Robin Sharma, Paulo Colhoe, etc. I encourage my students too. Paradoxically, I feel, a man is the richest in the world, even if he has nothing. He has a royal casino to Casanova, top to bottom wealth and he commends thousands of men. You can call him the man of plenty because he does plentiful reading.

You know, the amount of tang you get is more than what I would like to call ‘loose talks,’ because in these ‘loose talks’ we always ridicule, make fun and talk about desires and illicit relationship, and not so good a word-gibberish.

In the book, you are informed of many things. You can be a player of all characters.

Let me end with the E.A Filne line, “When a man’s reading is finished, he is finished.”

I will leave here with some of our reading week shots.

 

This year theme

Reading Schedule

Mass reading

Mass Reading

Mass Reading

Mass Reading

Reading

Reading

And reading

MRP

See that overwritten MRP. See the original MRP 50/-

The prices of goods have gone higher than the highest mountain. And no, I'm not talking about Everest—I'm talking about the price of a fucking packet of maggi. Shopkeepers are charging more than what's on the MRP like it's a suggestion box. They have liberties to fix their own prices. When asked about MRP, they would give you a hundred explanations, making you believe, and pay their fake prices. First, they'd start with the location of their shops ("Sir, this is Tingtibi, not Thimphu"). Then the price increase from their agents ("Our supplier now owns a second car"). Then transportation cost like fuel price increases, taxes, labor charges, tire charges, windshield charges, and whatever the hell else they can pull out of their ass. And somewhere, they'd even mention the salary hike of civil servants—because apparently, if I earn an extra Nu. 500 a month, I should happily pay Nu. 50 more for rice. They would somehow make you believe, and you come out paying and getting much-unwanted information. Like, I just wanted noodles, not a lecture on Bhutan's GDP.

And this is the case in many parts of our country. The government is trying to enforce customers to pay only MRP, and shopkeepers are trying to ask more than the MRP. It's basically a tug-of-war, and we—the customers—are the rope. The margin of the price from MRP has a huge difference. For example, they would increase by Nu. 15 from MRP or double it, just for the fun of watching you cry. I am one of the victims. In Zhemgang, Tingtibi, the prices are fixed by themselves. They erased and overwrite the MRP. It's like overwriting on banknotes—and only a fool would accept overwritten notes. But guess what? In Tingtibi, fools are in high demand. I had to pay Nu. 15 for a Nu. 12 packet of maggi. A 25% tax on my soul. Likewise, the prices of rice, oil, sugar, flour, biscuits, etc., are overwhelmingly fixed by them. I told them about MRP, only to get that unwanted information about their cousin's wedding expenses. And this is the same here in Tala. People have liberties to fix their own prices. Apparently, liberty in Bhutan means "fuck the customer."

And I don't know how prices are fixed about those perishable veggies. They have skyrocketed too. I have to pinch my skin. Not my wallet—my actual skin. Because after buying tomatoes, I can't afford to feel pain normally anymore.

Inflation has caused serious ripple effects to every civil servant. We have to minimize our diets. Civil servants are sandwiched in between the upper rung and lower rung of people. We are crushed in between to ooze blood from our parched, dried bodies. People try to extract as many as they can from this middle-income group. They don't sell, they don't produce, they depend, and they depend heavily on their meager salaries. Look at those shoppers—they cheat, they earn a lot. And then they have the audacity to complain about taxes.

So, our goods controller must strictly ensure people stop charging more than MRP, and levy fines on them. Big fines. Humiliating fines. Fines that make them think twice before erasing another price tag. If not, we have to pinch for these surprises. And honestly, my skin is running out of pinchable area.

GHN on the Wall

I went to Pashikha MSS yesterday (6/9/14) to judge the Wall Magazine competition for classes VII to X. It was their annual competition, and I found it both fascinating and informative to see so many creative articles and artworks. I really appreciate the hard work the students put in.

The theme of the wall magazines, however, was an overused and clichéd one: GNH and Life Skills. There’s been a lot of hype around it, and to be honest, I’m only a little into the topic because I don’t fully understand it. I feel that GNH has brainwashed many of our students. They talk about GNH, they write about GNH—but do they truly live a life guided by GNH philosophy? This beautiful and original philosophy, gifted by our King, must not become unoriginal or be gambled away.

Anyway, I have some hazy photos here.

A tree of knowledge/lamp

Improvised handy works from waste materials

A student explaining their works

GNH through the lens. What can you see?

Over trite... life skills

Life game

Doremon...???

The time you enjoyed, wasting is not a wasted time. Then what is wasted time?

Beautiful artworks

Literacy and sustainable development? so illiterate cannot sustain. Is it?

Judge judging

Beauty occurs itself and so is ugly

Paper waste flower vase

Lollypop GNH

Bhutanese Mikey mouse

open the curtain of knowledge

one of my articles there. no author acknowledgment

Interesting topic. I hope to write a book with this title

It means a lot

Four pillars lift Bhutan

Tribute to Ama

Pakshikha MSS Icons and followers

GNH bird... a tiger...then a pig would come there

Jurors evaluating

Interesting Bhutanized poem

Nice decoration with nothing on the wall...cl.VIIs' i guess

The flavor of Bhutanese Buddhism is GNH

Things from Zhemgang and past

At least an ogle at the end