The Most Precious Commodity: Time
Time has been an ever present topic of discussion since we have been here in Meghalaya. Days can feel like weeks but then weeks can feel like just a few days. It is all very peculiar. A phenomenon I put down to a complete change in routine: our working day can start and end at differing times. The way to strike pure confusion and maybe fear into our Indian teacher friends is by asking, “What time does this lesson finish?” A hasty discussion will undoubtedly take place between the staff who huddle together and more often than not, a “Not too long!” is the response. Our car journeys are another indicator that time is an abstract concept here,
“How long till we get there?”
“Not too long.”
“Okay, how long?”
“Maybe one hour.”
“One hour?”
“…Yes.”
Three hours later and my numb backside is screaming that we still haven’t arrived. It’s just the way it is here and in many ways it suits me perfectly. I have my own system for time:
- Bedside alarm clock - set twelve minutes early (it enables me to get up slightly earlier than needed and allows for an extended shower).
- Car clock - 5 minutes late (makes me time conscious but not enough to cause danger on the road).
- Wrist watch I only wear for golf - it doesn’t even display the time, making me late most of the time (this annoys Danny my playing partner and shows him complete disregard which gives me the edge when we play). So, I get it. It is a system, an approach, which just works here.
One thing we have tirelessly worked upon is making sure we get the most out of each and every lesson with the time we have available. Learning by Questions (LBQ) is really effective for this. Firstly, we utilise the fact that each ‘class’ can have three sessions on the go at the same time. Session one is our recap - tablets are unboxed, class joining codes are entered and the children are straight in answering questions on prior learning or prerequisites for the upcoming lesson. This sets the tone - ‘We are here to learn and we will squeeze every little bit out of this session!’
“How are we getting on?”, “Are we all okay here?”, “Does anyone need help?” . . . These were my stock phrases I used in my classroom for many years. What did I expect them to say? “Not doing too well actually, I wasn’t going to ask for help but now you’ve asked I would really like some support.” Well, for some children this may be the response but from my own experience that is not common. With LBQ we can make every conversation a purposeful one and make sure the conversation is with the right children. I don’t mean we get rid of the pleasantries within a lesson, far from it. Children here and in the UK generally love the fact that they are getting the right help at the right time. Within the LBQ session we balance our time between supporting the children and quick glimpses of the live data. Stopping the whole class to intervene from a ‘feeling’ or a drawn out process of circling the room getting neck ache as you peer over Ellie’s shoulder is non-existent. We can circle the room still but whilst circling we are supporting the children who need the help and we are ready and prepared to intervene before those small misunderstandings become deep rooted misconceptions.
Two days ago we showed a teacher in one of the village schools the data set. She was gobsmacked that with three clicks of the mouse she could identify the common misconceptions in her class. She then spent the time it would normally take to discover that misconception to actually address it.
On the way back from Nongkrem village today I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Here in the middle of a Khasi tribal village, in one of the poorest educationally funded states in India, where resources are either lacking or non-existent and buildings stand in ruin, there are a group of teachers who are outperforming many of their western counterparts. They are using technology to rinse every second out of every single lesson.
I then had another thought,
It would be even more impressive if they didn’t turn up to class fifteen minutes late.
Smile gone, I then had another thought,
The ‘extra’ teacher who appeared halfway through the lesson with a huge grin on their face, the unattended English class next door which turned into a student-led dance-along lesson . . . There’s still work to do.