I am sure I have written this before but my immediate response to the term 'networking' makes me want to gouge my eyes out with uncut fingernails smothered in onion spray, pack my ears with cotton wool and stick the nearest corporate branded pencil down my throat. Basically - the image it vividly draws in my head is that of people, specifically three of them, standing in a circle talking. Holding a lukewarm coffee perhaps and making small-talk,
"Hey, you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good, you?
"Yeah, good thanks."
"Mmm, How is it at your place?"
"Yeah, good. How's yours?"
"Yeah, good thanks. Busy!"
Both potentially lying and they both bloody know it.
So. With that in mind and keen to stick firmly to my beliefs - I organised a teacher training and network session for all the teachers involved in the India LBQ project.
Getting anyone together in any context poses a challenge but getting eighteen teachers from six different schools from a two hour travelling radius is pretty impossible. But we did it. I felt quite emotional seeing all of these pioneering professionals in one room. Not 'crying' emotional - that was just the onion spray. I went for the 'put the teachers in the children's position' approach - asking them to complete an LBQ question set whilst I demonstrated what could be done at each point to maximise teacher impact. I must say, from my point of view, there was no eye gouging from the 'colleagues' (I dislike that one, especially when you've only known them from the 8:30 start), and there was a real buzz in the room. (I'm now doubting myself, is this what every facilitator starts off thinking? People are loving this, networking is... Brilliant! Oh lord, am I now a part of the stale coffee and beige conversation problem?)
Seriously though, it was FANTASTIC. Forget about the fact that the internet, which I had relied upon, decided to leave me hanging dry for a good 40 minutes and my Indian facilitator 'colleagues' at that point decided to leave the room and chew kwai outside instead. Also, forget about Wanlang's last minute enroute decision to collect a pen and writing pad from the insufferably busy Shillong for each and every 'delegate' (eurgh, that's another one). That decision made us 30 minutes late to our own training. On the plus side, we were able to enter the room to a full house of joyful, eagerly awaiting teachers who were there chatting away (that's not even a joke, it almost looked as though they were ... networking).
I have delivered a fair amount of CPD and a fair amount of that CPD has been LBQ CPD. What has always struck me is how easy it is to do. That's not a statement fueled by gloating - but the flexibility that LBQ has in the classroom transfers to when enlightening teachers on its use.
"We can use it to understand if a child has understood a new concept?"
"Yes."
"Can we use it to deliver a new concept to our class?"
"Yes, you absolutely can. I do, back in the UK."
"What if I want to add some of my own questions in to match closer to our curriculum?"
"Yes, you can definitely do that."
"Do I have to be in the school to set the question set? Could I be ... at home?"
"Ye... Well, yes. No, just... Just don't do that."
Each 'delegate' (eurgh) was scribbling down into their new notebook (absolutely fanatastic idea Wanlang, never doubted you at all) their thoughts and ideas of how it would best fit their setting. Some of our more experienced schools shared how they were using it and their 'colleagues' (okay, it does not feel too horrendous now) nodded and scribbled more thoughts down. It was actually feeling very useful. These people, some from afar but others living in the same village as eachother were actually getting something from this. I closed the session by thanking my 'colleagues' and 'delegates' for the wonderful 'networking' opportunity and then had a good long look at myself in the mirror.
On the 15th was India's National Independence Day. This threw a bit of a curve ball as it meant schools were closed. My three Indian 'colleagues', plus the taxi driver, insisted on going for a day trip. So we did. We were off to 'Little Switzerland' and having seen the pictures - it wasn't a bad comparison. In usual fashion, everyone turned up an hour late, even Wanlang was still in bed at 7:56am after telling everyone the night before, "8:00am sharp everyone, 8:00am sharp." At 9:30 am we set off. Knowing that 'Little Switzerland' was only 40 minutes away, it was somewhat confusing when we were still in the car 4 hours later. It turns out Wanlang had decided against the peaceful 'Little Switzerland' and opted for the conflict-torn Bangladeshi border instead. Looking into Bangladesh, it was hard to fathom that the images streamed over the news channels that very morning were a matter of 20 miles from where we were standing. As we arrived at Mawsynram, it began to show us exactly why it's known as the wettest place on Earth. To put this into perspective, Manchester receives an average of 33 inches of rainfall each year and is known as a wet place. Mawsynram receives a staggering 467 inches each year. It's hard to comprehend how people survive out here in such harsh conditions. Unlike the rest of Meghalaya, not an awful amount of farming takes place due to the saturated ground - the tourism, as I was about to discover, wasn't established either.
We pulled up to the main attraction, a lake, which was occupying a few swimmers. Wanlang looked slightly disheartened and Jop - always ready with the right words - simply said, "I don't know why we came here." He then returned to the taxi, cracked open a can of beer and lay in the boot.
Once we were all back into the car, we went in search for 'Split Rock'. Two huge rock forms with a small gap between and a labyrinth of caves underneath. At first glance it didn't look too innocuous but once stood at the top of the 90ft bamboo ladder, ready to make the first descent, I was reaching for my copy of the travel insurance. I'm fairly relaxed about these things normally but the tight spaces and the mutterings of, "I'm scared!" by Khraw made me somewhat nervous. Coupled with the fact that this cavern has a history of flash flooding and 20% of the ladder steps were rotten - I was really very relieved to get out of there.
The journey home is one that will live long in the memory - for all the wrong reasons. The erratic driving behaviours of interweaving scooters and taxis and the lack of seeing any major road accidents had given me a false sense of invincibility as a passenger. The slowing of traffic, the muddy banks lined with morose faces and the two lifeless, young bodies laying in the middle of the monsoon soaked road brought that misconception to a harsh halt. Police were still letting cars drive through the scene and as we drove by we too were shown the shocking consequences of the wild, seemingly unregulated roads of India.
The latest chapter in this project draws to a close. Challenging, yes. Hugely rewarding, definitely. An idea with a touch of possibility has turned to be a mainstay, a part of their identity, in the rural village schools of North East India and there are no signs of it stopping. I am just grateful to be part of it. Khublei!
