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My School Satya Surabhi

by Rebecca Bailey.

Rebecca Bailey makes an exciting discovery in the heart of the Palani Mountains, just outside Kodaikanal.

Nestled amongst the green Palani mountains, 'My School Satya Surabhi' looks more like an English country cottage than a school. Don't be fooled. Within the walls of the red brick building more substantial work is being done than in most state schools in India. The school, set up and run by Padmini and Ram Mani, is aimed primarily at young children from underprivileged backgrounds. Most impressively, it has all been funded from their own pockets, aided only by, as the Beatles sang, 'a little help from their friends.'

The school started out in 1999 in the Manis' shed, with only 20 pupils. This number has now reached 130, and sometimes there are even 152 children present when migrant workers are in the area. They have also managed to build a larger school building. The inspiration for Mrs Mani to start the school was her worry for the environment; anyone who has seen the piles of decaying rubbish lining the streets of any Indian town will recognize the root of her concern. I have to say her school is one of the cleanest places I have been to in India. The large, airy hall, tiled in pink, with classrooms leading off either side and a tree growing in the middle, would not look out of place in a developed country's primary school. It is no surprise that in 2005, the Education Department of the Government of Tamilnadu, Dindugal district, chose it as a model school among the forty schools they surveyed.

All the children come from the lower classes; Mrs Mani estimates that their families' average income would be 100 rupees a day. Although she has no time for labeling children by caste ("I see them all just as children", she says), from the forms she has to fill out for the government she estimates that at least 80% of the children are from the Scheduled Castes. There are Muslim, Hindu, and Christian children attending; the school is thus secular and focuses on 'being a good human being,' the overall aim being 'just to show (the children) an insight into a better world.'

The all-female staff also come from deprived backgrounds. They treat Mrs Mani like a mother - 'they all think mine is the last word but this is not really true,' she chuckles. Their husbands are all skilled labourers, and most of them have graduated from the nearby Mother Theresa University. In Mrs Mani's opinion though, the standard of her staff when they first started was a real insight into the state of Indian education as a whole. 'If they had studied biology, that was all they knew, biology.' They didn't read newspapers and 'didn't know anything' outside of their studied subject. This is not difficult to believe; in 2008 Mercer Consulting published a paper stating that only 25% of Indian graduates were employable. Through working at 'My School.' though, these women 'are being empowered all the time.'

Of course this is a little harsh to India's tertiary education system, which is gathering more and more prestige at the international level as time goes on. In terms of primary education though there is a lot left to be desired. In fact, Mrs Mani, when asked whether they receive government aid, tells me flat out that she doesn't want it, as this would lead to 'standards getting diluted' and to not being able to do the things that are necessary and which she wants to do. Despite this casting aside, she desperately wishes for a change in the Indian political scene. 'We need more idealism', she says earnestly. 'People need to realize that we can help people, not by giving them TV and rice, but by giving them education; the one thing we can do is educate the kids.'

In terms of idealism, Mrs Mani herself has certainly forged a blazing trail, setting up and running the school free of charge, paying for everything herself. Moreover, this idealism has certainly paid off in practical results. The work on display is astonishing, when you consider that the grandparents and even some of the parents of these children would not even know how to read. Essays on DNA, genes and milestones in human evolution line the wall. A class of 6 and 7th standard pupils files into the office like little minions to see 'the foreigners.' Standing in line, they told us their names and ages in perfect English (the school teaches in both English and Tamil as Mrs Mani believes it is impossible to advance in the modern world without English.). They were obviously all extremely bright - one even managed to find the pinpoint that is Cyprus, my home country, on the globe! (Not an easy feat at all - I have met many educated adults who have had no idea where Cyprus is.) Mrs Mani was obviously very proud of her students. 'When I started working in 1999,' she explains, 'I didn't realize how satisfying it would be.' Mrs Mani has been teaching for 45 years, so this is no idle praise.

A simple melody played on a keyboard seeps through the door from a music class. The tinny quality is strangely poignant, as are the missed notes and constant repetition. What does the future hold for these wonderful idealists, tucked away in their green paradise? Well, for a start, there are the plans to expand into a secondary school as well, plans which have already been started. Previously they had had to send their children to other secondary schools (paying their way from the school's funds). On a wider scale - 'if we could get to the most remote places, we could transform India', Mrs Mani says enthusiastically. As an article about idealism triumphing for once, I will end on a similar note, best summed up by one of the pupils, the 11 year old Abu who found Cyprus on the map. Brainstorming on the phrase "A better India and a better world", this was his response: "India and China make up so much of the world's population. If they are good, then the whole world will be."