This past month, I have been attending a course
in London on Human Rights. The demographics could not have been more diverse:
the professor a Syrian British scholar trained in the US, and the classmates
including students of law, international relations, and journalism from France,
Italy, Germany, and Taiwan. The experiences and viewpoints that each of us
contributed in class reflected our diverse cultures, ideologies, and
backgrounds.
Needless to say, the program turned out to
be enriching beyond words.
Upon its close, I can think of certain notable
factors which, in my opinion, made the course so rewarding.
As a student who has had the experience of going
through the education system both at home and now abroad, I was able to observe
in England two striking things which were a complete departure from the system
in India:
1.
The professor as a professional
In our country, the culture (deriving from ancient
spiritual and cultural ethos) places the people in our everyday lives on
distinct pedestals. Parents and teachers, above all, are explicitly ordained to
be at par with God himself. Owing to this, for better or for worse, the
possibility of having a relationship among equals is eliminated. Obedience is the
cornerstone of this contract, with little room for discussion or consensus,
forget dissent.
In England, the professor is a professional
and nothing else. They only expect the student’s commitment to the course, and
little else. They are held in high regard, not because of any spiritual or cultural
factors, but because of their knowledge and experience. In the classroom, this fundamental
difference has a tremendous impact on how discourse occurs. The classroom thus becomes
a beacon for open discussion, explanation, and debate, with each person equal
to the other, including the professor.
2.
Learning method and exam
pattern
The semester exam in India is, in all truth,
a memory test. In engineering, for instance, one is supposed to write theorems
and solve numerical questions by remembering formulae. In law, entire
provisions, authorities, and case laws are expected to be memorized. The other students
in my class in London were baffled when I told them that I had key provisions of
the Indian Penal Code memorized.
As most of the grading is focused on
reproducing from memory, few are interested in attending lectures, and prefer
studying at home. If they do at all, it is only to save themselves from
punitive action later. For most, the subject is not learnt in class, but during
the month-long ‘preparatory leave’.
In London, to my great surprise (and
happiness), we were not expected to memorize a single word. We were, however,
expected to thoroughly read and reflect upon an extensive set of ‘required
readings’ and ‘recommended readings’. These included textbooks, journals,
research papers, newspaper reports, online video discourses, and magazines, to
name a few. We were not expected to ‘learn by heart’ a single definition,
equation or formula. Instead, we were expected to assimilate the learnings from
this diverse literature, and formulate our own argument. The grading depended
on how well were able to articulate the learnings into own words in the exam.
These points are an attempt to highlight
the differences between the two countries, with the aim to stir the debate on
what we want our own educational system to be.
Finally, it would not be prudent to jump to
the conclusion that the entire Indian system is substandard. The academic
community in India is not very far behind in either diligence and commitment to
the cause of education. However, even they agree that an overhaul is necessary.
The world’s sixth largest economy deserves a system that propels it to even
greater heights in its tryst with destiny.
