Exclusive Discovery: Children Who Love School Found In Rural Lands of Bangladesh

At 9:30 in the morning fifteen children gather around the edge of the hati (temporary island), waiting for their school to arrive. Their long black hair oiled and plaited, and for the lucky ones, red ribbons adorn their heads. The children are dressed in their finest clothes, and cause outsiders to wonder whether they were ready for church rather than school. I admired the girls (and two troublesome boys) as our car pulled up to their designated loading spot. 

As I motioned to open the door, my impeccable timing and slight flair for drama ensured that my arrival was accompanied with Hollywood’s finest rain (literary analysts would claim that this was pathetic fallacy for some foreboding disaster, but beyond being ill, thankfully nothing tragic happened). Within minutes I was drenched, as we ran for the nearest cover, which so happened to be a little tea stall with metal walls and a roof. Huddled together, the girls whispered around me. Those who dared meet my smiles, abashedly lowered their heads seconds later and giggled amongst their friends. My attempts at small conversation were quickly abandoned, as the girls were too shy to even respond with their names (later I learned that their lack of response was most likely due to the fact that they did not have a clue as to what I was saying. My obvious accent and lack of local dialogue may as well have been Dory’s whale calls from finding Nemo, although I like to think my speech was a bit more eloquent). Fortunately, I was spared any further blank stares and embarrassment with the school’s arrival.

No, I have not gone mad, nor have I forgotten proper English (despite BRAC’s finest attempts to force my conversion to modern British English). I believe I just failed to mention that the school is a boat! Haor areas flood six months out of the year, therefore making school attendance irregular at best. Children are confined to their hatis when water levels rise, and their five mile walk to school becomes impossible. And this is only the case for the few children whose parents allow them to venture that far, for such a useless cause, or so they say. Working wages are too precious for such frivolous activities, such as learning how to read and write (skills not too often used in manual labour). BRAC’s solution to the region’s drastically low literacy rates was a school that travels to the kids, in other words a boat school.

 

Girls and boys load the small vessel, respectfully remove their shoes, and take a seat, patiently waiting for their teacher to walk into the room. In this country, teachers are royalty and education is priceless. When their “Madame” enters the room, all the children stand and greet her in unison. And they remain standing until she gives them permission to sit down. I even got my own debut when I waltzed in a few minutes later and all the children hopped to their feet to greet me (cousins – I now expect this of you every time we get together haha). However the formalities that ensued were a little bit like A Wrinkle in Time, with all the kids responding to my questions together, as if they are a single person rather than individuals. 

The school is a second chance at learning programme, which means everyone from eight-year-olds to sixteen-year-olds is learning the same lessons. Five years of standard primary education is finished in four at these schools. I don’t think I have met so many dedicated, grateful, and determined students in a single room, as I did that day on the boat school. There wasn’t a single child who did not love school or appreciate homework. I often wondered whether or not I was teleported to some alternate universe, but the truth is, it is really easy to take for granted that which is just handed to you. Back at home, we wouldn’t ask if someone’s kids were going to school, but rather where they were attending. Over here, education is a luxury, one that few families can afford.

There were a total of thirty students and they sat in two perfect rows of fifteen along the side walls of the boat. The best students sit the closest to the front of the classroom, and the rankings follow accordingly, so the students that struggle the most are at the back (it seems as though some concepts are universal). Each morning the teacher chooses different girls and boys to lead the Morning Prayer, national anthem, and daily exercise. A cacophony of mismatched, off-key sounds fills the already too small room; it is rather endearing and unnerving at the same time.

 

Homework is submitted on blackboards every morning, and the teacher whizzes through, checking off the correct answers and circling the wrong right in front of them. If you get a check, you can clean off the board, but a circle means the entire assignment must be redone. I was surprised there wasn’t a single “my dog ate my homework” excuse, especially since it would have been so easy to claim “the rain washed my homework away.” But like I said before, these kids love school and their passion is reflected in their efforts. The teacher calls on the students in front of everyone and relies on the class to help correct their mistakes. Personally, I would be too scared to even utter a sound. But the kids are kind, and rather than correct maliciously, they are supportive of their peers. Even the “know-it-all” of the class was not as obnoxious as those encountered in my school. 

I spent some time talking to the different children, listening as they shared their goals and life aspirations with me. Village children or not, they all dream the same.  With high hopes of becoming teachers or doctors, they confided their motivation to make a difference in their homes. The reason these professions were the most popular is because they directly help others around them.  These students could really teach a lot to others back at home. It is so easy to get caught up in such trivial problems, but if we just take a look at the world beyond ourselves and our immediate needs, we would be able to see just how silly it all is. I guess when you are wondering where your next meal will come from, it doesn’t really matter what your best friend said about you behind your back, or whether you were invited to the party. The things that we so easily take for granted, like having clean water or even new pencils, these children are wishing for. Life has thrown every obstacle in their way, and yet they still strive for something more, something better. I hope they are able to continue their education beyond the boat school and wish them all the best in their futures.