The New Student

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The New Student

"Come and meet our new students", Kunwar calls me from the house. I go outside and seated at our table is one man from our village. He has a pleasant, humble face. He speaks in Hindi to Kunwar and I try to follow the conversation, but my eyes keep moving to the two little boys seated on the bench next to him. Not once do they lift their faces -- instead they study the ground below the table. I come close to them, put out my hand and tell them we are very happy they will be joining our school. They don't look at me and neither says a word. I try again -- maybe they didn't understand my Hindi -- nothing. 'Oh boy,' I think to myself, 'This is going to be difficult.' Their father tells us that the government teacher wants to hold the oldest boy, Nitin, back for another year. She says he is 'dull.' Kunwar and I exchange looks. There are only four students in the government school, and two teachers. Their students should be excelling.  Yet, we know.  A memory passes through my mind; one day I was walking past the government school and I saw the teacher seated in front of a little girl and then I saw her wind up and slap the little girl so hard they child nearly fell on the ground, and when she had righted herself, the teacher slapped her again. I was horrified. How could a child possibly learn this way? 

Today I was teaching in class six. Nitin sits in the middle row. I have asked our volunteers to provide him with special intensive English classes. Alex reports that Nitin is exceptionally bright, but he doesn't like to talk.  Today in class I try to draw him out. "Would you like to try to make a sentence Nitin?" I sit beside him and he draws away from me. "Nitin, just try honey. Just whisper it to me. It's ok. I am trying to help you." He trembles, and I feel my heart sink. He is afraid of me. "Nitin, honey. I am not going to hit you. I want to help you. If you answer wrong, it is ok. I will never hit you. I will never shout at you. I only want to help." Now some of the students have gathered around. Sakshi leans in to help, "Don't worry Nitin, Aunty and the teachers won't hurt you. You can answer. It's ok if you are wrong. Nothing will happen," she offers. Nitin looks from Sakshi to the other children who are all nodding their heads. 'Bless their hearts,' I think. They are so helpful and so willing to help each other. I place my hand on Nitin's back, and I say, "When you are ready, you can try." We continue on for the rest of the lesson.  I smile and I encourage the children -- I do my best, but I worry about this little boy who is too frightened to try, to even speak and I feel so sad. Class is almost over, and then... Sakshi says, "Aunty, Nitin wants to try."  "Ok, Nitin." My heart pounds a little faster. I want him to succeed. He opens his mouth and I can't hear, so I move closer. I put my ear close to him to hear him whisper, "Marley is so fat, he can't walk."  It is a sentence one of the other children said earlier, but it doesn't matter, because Nitin has stood up and said it. He is looking at me with his eyes wide, waiting for my reaction. "High five Nitin!" and I hold my hand up. He looks at my raised palm, and for a second I think I have made a mistake. Does he think I am going to hit him? And then the smallest smile plays on his lips and he raises his hand and every so lightly, taps mine.