Students' disinterest in going to school is so deeply embedded in American society that it has come to be expected. To be sure, if a student wishes to find examples in the entertainment industry, he doesn't have to look very far before being sunburned by the radiation. From Ferris Beuller's Day Off of the '80s to The Suite Life of Zach and Cody of today, going to school is portrayed as a chore, something to get out of, a system to be beaten, “The Man,” so to speak. So many children have attempted to “play hookey” that dodging classes has become a culturally identified phenomenon.
On the other hand, Shugafa—a girl from Afghanistan—actually enjoys going to school, and does so despite the danger of poison gas or other attacks by the conservative Taliban militia, who oppose the education of females. Neeraj, a girl from India, also looks forward to going to school, even though her daylong household chores require her to go by lantern light at night. Joab, an African boy, goes to school in spite of living practically on the streets. And, yet, some American students miss class due to an oh-so-necessary trip to Taco Bell.
PBS's program, Wide Angle, decided to explore the lives of seven children from seven different countries at different stages of their education. Wide Angle's documentary, Time for School, began in response to the agreement of all 191 members of the United Nations to provide free, basic education for all children. Every three years, Wide Angle revisits the children to learn about their education, the obstacles they have faced, and their views on the future.
Time for School revealed two anomalies that were personally significant.
The first is that children in areas where education opportunities are scarce, tend to appreciate their education to a higher degree (no pun intended) than students in locations where school is almost universal. The five children who live in limited-access areas—from the slums of Rio de Janeiro to the villages of Benin—seemed to overcome many hardships in order to receive their education. On the other hand, Ken and Roluca—Japanese and Romanian, respectively—seem to share something quite peculiar: their hardships seem to be self-inflicted. Ken juggles the rigorous school system, after-school tutoring, baseball, skateboarding, video games, etc., and Roluca studies tirelessly in hopes of scoring highly on a practice entrance exam. These higher-performance students appreciate their high-level education, but more than likely take for granted the very existence of an education.
The second is that the limited-access children tended to aspire to the same careers as one another, as did the full-access children. Shugufa, Neeraj, Joab, and Nanavi all expressed interest in becoming a teacher or opening a school. To me, this spoke of utmost gratefulness. Perhaps, even, these children could witness the effects education was having on them and desired to pass the torch to their neighbors, to strangers, to everyone. Ken, however, had his sights set on a career in graphic design—not that this is any less worthy of a profession, but it simply reflects the overall attitudes of each child.
As a teacher, I feel that it is my obligation to thin the gap between the two sets of children. I don't intend on teaching in Afghanistan, India, or Brazil, but instead here in the United States. That means that I'll likely have a classroom full of Ferris Beullers—students who know about the “starving kids in China,” but who don't really care. Now, I don't mean that I'm going to flash pictures of Nanavi or Joab at the beginning of each class like a donation commercial, but I do intend to make my students value their education. Through engaging activities, momentum-driven discussions, and provoking assignments, I hope to teach more than just my content area.
If all goes as planned, who knows? Maybe one day a student of mine will pass the torch.
No comments:
Post a Comment