अनवट वाट

Counting bricks is an important activity during our sessions at the brick kiln. The children have made much progress in learning mathematics due to this activity. Their parents have to count bricks to keep track of their payment. Hence, counting bricks is a meaningful task for these children. Also, they don’t have to sit at one place to complete this task. They have to move and run around, which is akin to their basic nature. All of them are always ready to count bricks. Whenever I realize that they are getting bored of sitting at one place and reading, I ask them, “Shall we count bricks?” and a sudden wave of enthusiasm engulfs them!

In the beginning, they would count the bricks one by one. But now, they can count in multiples of two, four, twenty five and hundred. The reason is, one ghoda (stack of bricks at the kiln) is of 25 bricks. They stack up 12 layers of 2 bricks each, and keep a single brick on top. The children can count the bricks in such a ghoda in twos.  Bigger stacks of 55 bricks are structured as follows: 13 layers of 4 bricks each, and 3 single bricks on top. The children make use of these structures for counting. They also use their own strategies for counting. See this video, in which Rahul is answering the question – “how many total bricks in 3 ghodas of 55 bricks each?”

Kishor and I decided to push the children a little more. Our friend Arun had accompanied us today to see our class. He is a teacher himself. He joined us in teaching and took detailed notes of our efforts. There were many ghodas of raw bricks outside Amit’s house. We started our math class over there. Rahul also came with Amit. Our conversation went like this:

I: How many bricks in one ghoda?

Amit: Twenty five

I: So, how many bricks in these 2 ghodas?

Amit spent a lot of time mumbling to himself and using his fingers to count. Arun’s patience ran out and he prodded Amit.

Arun: How many bricks in the ghoda on this side?

Amit: Twenty five

Arun: Then say quickly how many bricks in two ghodas.

Amit started counting bricks one by one. Now Arun couldn’t hold back himself. He explained to Amit that if he counted in fours, he would be able to count faster. Amit followed this, and counted 50 bricks. I smiled at Arun. He realized that he needn’t have rushed Amit this way. He could have allowed Amit to count one by one, and then brought it to his attention that he could count in fours to save time. We realized that the principle of not interfering with children’s thought processes sounds quite simple, but is actually quite difficult in practice. I took over the conversation from this point onwards.

I: If there are 50 bricks in two ghodas, how many bricks in four ghodas?

Amit: A hundred (This reply came rather promptly)

I: How many bricks in this entire haaroli? (Haaroli is a long row of ghodas) 

This was my attempt to push Rahul and Amit. They started counting the ghodas by touching each ghoda. “A hundred and hundred makes two hundred… another hundred makes three hundred…”. But they would miss a ghoda in between or count a ghoda twice. When they’d realize their mistake, they would start counting from scratch. I suggested a trick – when they complete counting 100 bricks, they should put a blade of grass on that ghoda. This trick worked very well, and Amit and Rahul started moving forward.

After some time, Rahul said, “Ten hundred”. Arun didn’t like that. He asked, “How much is ten hundred?” Rahul got a little confused. I intervened and asked him to continue counting. Arun realized that it’s not necessary to insist on using the word ‘hazaar’ – it can hinder the children’s process. The children completed counting till “Twelve hundred bricks”. I decided to challenge them further.

I asked them, “Can you tell me how many bricks are there in all these haarolis?” Promptly, the boys climbed to the top of the haaroli and started counting. Now, they were using many different strategies for counting. For example, when they had to add 3600 and 1200, Amit said, “Thirty six hundred plus twelve hundred, right? So, thirty six hundred and ten hundred…. that’s forty six hundred…  add the remaining two hundred… that makes…. forty eight hundred!!” Using such strategies, they counted “Eighty four hundred bricks in seven haarolis” and climbed down.

I decided to represent this count in the form of a table. But we didn’t have a paper and pen, so we squatted next to the haaroli and prepared a table on the sand, with the help of the boys. While preparing the table, the boys were counting mentally, and at times they were looking at the bricks and counting physically. They went through the whole process of counting once again, albeit quite quickly.

We have noticed while working with these children that they face a problem with number-names. In Marathi and some North Indian languages, the number-names are a little peculiar.  These children can say “80 and 4” quite easily. But they find ‘chauryanshi’ (चौंऱ्यांशी ) confusing. Actually, we can express ‘chauryanshi’as ‘ainshi chaar’ or ‘panchahattar’ as ‘sattar paach’. But this practice is not prevalent in Marathi. Rahul and Amit can count “Eighty four hundred bricks in seven haarolis” but get confused with number-names upto 100.

Prof. Manohar Railkar has written a detailed article about this issue. The influence of Sanskrit on Marathi and North Indian languages has resulted in making the number-names upto 100 quite complicated. Children who come from families where there is a regular practice of using numbers and learning tables by heart, may not find it very problematic. But we will have to work quite hard to help our brick kiln children master these number-names. However, if we look back at where we had started from, it seems that we have made quite a lot of progress. Kishor and I are feeling quite happy about it!

We do not have a fixed space for our study sessions at the brick kiln. Sometimes, we assemble near the clay pit, sometimes near the haaroli of bricks and sometimes where the children are playing. The children don’t seem to have any problem with this, but I started feeling the need for some stability. Radhi had made space for us outside her bhonga, but recently, a new kiln was built next to her bhonga. Women with head loads of raw bricks started walking through the courtyard to the new kiln. Their ‘traffic’ started disturbing the progress of our sessions. As it is, the children on the brick kilns are not used to sitting in one place to concentrate on something. They started getting distracted by the movement and casual conversations of these women. To find a new space for our ‘class’ – that was the new challenge!

Another problem was that of our students missing classes for babysitting. Kishor told me that Manali who was studying in Grade 2, stopped attending school because her brother was born and she had to stay at home to look after him. This is a common occurrence at the brick kiln – children who are 8-10 years old have to remain at home to look after their younger siblings. Such children are called baalghe. Families that work on the brick kiln have no other option but to take the help of their children for such things. Children help with household chores such as filling up water, washing clothes, cooking etc. They also help with less strenuous work at the brick kiln, such as sieving powdered bricks, setting up a haaroli of bricks etc. But working as baalghe (babysitters) ties them down for the whole day. They have to ignore their own childhood and share the responsibility of their parents’ household. Kishor has permitted these children to come to the school with their little siblings. Some of the enthusiastic students do come to school holding their baby brother or sister in their arms. But everyone doesn’t have this enthusiasm. It is little wonder that this brings an end to their education.

Many such baalghe children come to our class at the brick kiln. They bring their little siblings with them. The other day, eight-year-old Avinash was drawing a picture based on a story which we had shared in the class. Suddenly, his mother appeared with a head load of bricks and a cane in her hand. She shouted at him and hit him hard on the back with the cane. Before we could realize what was happening, Avinash went running to his bhonga. His baby sister Durga was inside, in the cradle, crying. Avinash was supposed to look after her. While she was crying, he was busy drawing. That’s why he had received a beating. Before I could say something to his mother, she was gone.

What could I have told her, anyway? At the most I would have advised her not to beat him. But given their situation, I wonder whether she would have listened to me at all. I sighed and resumed teaching. Avinash returned to the class, carrying little Durga in his arms. He held her in his lap and tried to go back to his drawing.

Kishor and I realized that we had to work on this issue of babysitting, if we wanted to continue our classes. Children missing school for babysitting has been noted as an issue for many years. Educationists Tarabai Modak and Anutai Wagh had devised a very useful strategy to handle this problem. They used to run a crèche, a pre-school centre and a few primary school grades together under one roof. They named it ‘Vikas Wadi’. All the children would get looked after in this system. Parents could leave their children there and go to work without any worries. We decided to use this time-tested strategy for our students. We decided to run a crèche, at least till the time our classes will be on at the brick kiln. Kishor asked a local girl named Ankita if she would do this work, and she agreed readily.

But where would this crèche be? We needed a proper space for it. Kishor appealed to the parents – would they please build a bhonga for us? They proposed to build a bhonga on their next pay day or holiday. Sure enough, on the pay day, Umesh’s father took his tractor to the forest to bring grass and sticks; but no one offered to help. He returned with some kasaad grass. When Kishor asked the parents about it, they said, they were unable to go. Then, Gurya’s father said, he had a bhonga near the road which was lying unused, and he wouldn’t mind letting us use it. Kishor seized the opportunity, and set the ball in motion for repairing the old bhonga.

The children’s enthusiasm for preparing this space was amazing! They brought kasaad grass and covered the bhonga, they levelled the floor of bhonga and prepared the courtyard for our classes by covering the ground with cow dung. Kishor brought some old sarees, which were tied along the fence. Our new ‘classroom’ was taking shape! Inside the bhonga, we tied a saree between two poles, and created a cradle for small babies. We brought a bagful of toys and teaching aids for pre-schoolers. On one wall, we hung a mirror, and kept a comb, face powder and hair oil next to it. Outside, we put a bucket of water to wash hands and feet. All the facilities were in place. We tied a rope outside the bhonga and put storybooks on it – our ‘hanging library’! Our brick kiln children who came to the class started washing their faces, applying hair oil and face powder…. All of them looked like salted peanuts!!

The crèche created a good space for our brick kiln classes. The younger children started playing with Ankita. The babies were put in the cradles. And the older children started sitting with us in the courtyard to study. But…. Just when I was finding a semblance of stability…. The other day some stray dogs tore off the sarees which were tied along the fence. The children made ropes with those tattered sarees and built swings! With the fence gone, the courtyard soon became a dumping ground for garbage.

There we go again. Start from scratch. Tarabai and Anutai had done this pioneering work decades ago. I feel amazed and saddened that their work is not outdated even today.