Believing

I think I finally figured out why I am so upset about this whole school admissions fiasco... Despite all that frustrates me about India, I have always hung onto belief in the economy, in the country, in its people. Education, of course, serves as the lynchpin of possibility here. A lack of it holds countless people back. Access to it transforms lives. That this key to India's future remains mired in so much muck, from corruption to connections, is deeply troubling and cause to cease believing. Everyone tells me, "No matter where she goes, she will be okay." Or else: "Look at us, we turned out fine."
But despite having strong beliefs about the type of school I want Naya to be in (open curriculum, lots of freedom, little rote learning, no tracing letters or formal instruction), I worry about sending her to a place where only people with connections can enter. At the age of 3.5, you might say she is too young to "get it" but I think it perhaps begins one of the saddest lessons of India will frame her time here -- hard work doesn't pay off. When you need something in life, just call the right person and it's yours. The same can be said of many of the elite schools of the US, for sure. But the public school system is generally strong or can be moved into (also the result of parents' hard work and ethic, presumably). I'd say the values we most want to pass onto our child are compassion for others and ethical values. So I don't feel like I can be part of something that requires currying favour just because we are who are. The moment I have to do that, it is like crossing a morale line and entering an India in which I can no longer believe. And so this whole process is about more than where Naya will go to school but more about whether this place can serve as home for our family, for the short or long term.

Line of the day

Me to co-worker: So I hear you need connections to get your kid into nursery school. Do you have any?
Co-worker (without missing a beat): You think I'd be working here if I did?

School Daze again...

This time we are really in a sad daze... Tonight came Naya's first rejection, which really is more a rejection of us from an elite private school in Delhi. I won't write the name because there's still a chance of a second list. Today is also the day I think that Nitin and I realize we love our kid more than ourselves. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I don't think I felt this sad even when I didn't get into Northwestern's journalism school. What's most perplexing is that the system in India still feels incredibly patriarchal, based on what accomplishments parents have made. While we consider ourselves rock stars in the creative sense, we wonder why that didn't work for admissions... I would gladly take 16 Nitin Mukul paintings over an IIT diploma... Anyway we tried to do this whole thing without connections or kissing ass but we are revisiting that policy now. It is the Indian way, perhaps.

Government schools here are a joke, private schools here are few -- education is an issue that the rich and poor are strangely united in being screwed over on. Why hasn't there been a revolt? Tonight is the first night in a long time that we have debated going home because while the opportunities here are great, the possibility that an American education allows you to dream are far greater. With just a handful of decent private schools in this capital, you wonder just how India is going to shine in 20 years. If we don't make the cut and people with connections, bribes and other means make it, then what does that say about a country? And should we even be judging children's potential on their parents' past accomplishments anyway? Isn't education the only way to level the playing field, to surmount the stigma of parents and past? If we are finding it hard to get in, what about lower middle class families or even the poor?

Today we also had an interview at one of the so-called alternative schools that we really loved. But when we sat before the four (!) interviewers, they said, "You both seem busy. Who looks after the child?"

I was momentarily stunned and said, "Nitin works from home. That is the arrangement we have."

Then from my left came another question. "Can your husband verify employment?"

"Well," I said, "there's a contract here but he works mainly as an artist."

Nitin began showing them some of his graphic design work.

"Is there anything on letterhead?" came the woman again.

I must have looked annoyed. Thankfully, Nitin pulled out a New York Times review praising his paintings and the recent TimeOut review and silenced them.

"Thank you," they said.

"That's it?" I asked, incredulous. "Don't you want to know anything else?"

"No, we're fine," she said.

I walked away, shaking my head. How can it be that they chastise us for being working parents on the one hand and then seek their so-called "professional" letters and proof on the other.

Let my melodrama continue -- this country is doomed.

PS - Nitin just called his father to let him know and Dad was his usual optimistic self, "Don't worry. You'll get in somewhere. Naya is really smart."

Too bad she is not the one being judged...

Double speak

Naya (to relatives in Guwahati): My father is Punjabai. My mother is Assamese. I am Assamese.

Naya (to relatives in Delhi): My father is Punjabi. My mother is Assamese. I am Punjabi.