Imagine No Child Left Invisible: Building Emotionally Safe Spaces for Inclusive & Creative Learning

Introduction

Imagine is a manifesto; it is the lifeblood of a deep conviction that I have carried with me for years. It has demanded to be written. A strong voice that kept urging me to write what I believed in. I have tried reasoning with this voice. After all, I am not a teacher and, in the strictest sense, I have never worked within the school system. However, Imagine is an idea that refused to go away. It waited patiently and grew in my mind with such ferocity that I had to sit down one day and say, ‘Okay, let’s do it!’

At the outset, I would like to clarify that this book is not about academics, syllabi or curricula. In the present-day world of content overload and information at the click of a button, we need to ask ourselves some questions. Why do we send our children to schools? How can learning be meaningful? And most importantly: How can we build schools worthy of them?

At the heart of this book is a deep faith that schools need to be emotionally safe spaces for creative and inclusive learning. Schools are not just buildings that children go to learn subjects, pass examinations and get ‘good results’ so that they can get admission in a ‘good college’. Schools need to be spaces where children are nurtured, allowed to think, be curious, get inspired, imagine and, most importantly, ask questions. Where they can learn to communicate, collaborate, interact meaningfully, build relationships and communities. Where they can play, laugh, love, make mistakes, fall and learn to stand up again. Where they learn about their own selves, their strengths, their vulnerabilities, their feelings. Where their bodies become stronger along with their minds and hearts and they learn the art of living, being courageous, caring for their environment, being change agents and making the right choices.

My belief is that given the right space, they will do so, each child at his or her own pace. That I believe is the essence, the bare bones of learning. Not the ‘best’ school the child goes to, the ‘top’ grades she gets, nor her ‘good behaviour’ in class.

Three decades separate me from the first time I stepped out of my school. However, I can tell you the names of every teacher from nursery onwards and even their quirks and peculiarities. I loved my school, so it has a very happy space in my heart. Of course, I went through some difficult and painful times, but even memories of those have not displaced the happy ones from their firm grounding.

I was born and grew up in a small town in the mountains. At that time, it was a quaint little place where ‘everybody knew everybody’. I think there is no better way to describe a community. My school sprawled across several hills where we had to trek up and down through the day to go to the different classes. Each class had around twelve to twenty children, no sections. Through the years I had a mix of the most amazing and not so amazing teachers. I could go on and on telling you some fascinating stories about my school, but I will keep it for some other time. For now, there are only three things I would like to share about my school. It had a strong, inclusive culture (I am talking about a time when inclusion was not a buzzword), most of us loved coming to school, and we spent more time out in nature than in classrooms.

Maybe that is the reason why schools have such a magnetic pull for me. I love visiting schools, I love talking to people about their school life, and I love working with schools. As a child psychologist, I have worked with many schools in India and England. Seeing my own children go through their school life has given me another perspective to schooling and education.

If you ask me why I feel so strongly about it, I would ask you why not? Why doesn’t everybody feel strongly about it? Each one of us has been to a school and has learned from our teachers. We send our kids off to preschools at two and half years of age and after that to schools where they stay for another fourteen years. They might leave the building at the age of eighteen, but they carry their school and their teachers in their hearts for the rest of their lives. Like each one of us has and always will. Sometimes, the schools we carry in our hearts are warm memories. However, a lot of times they are not. They are full of pain, shame, humiliation, stories of feeling unheard and being invisible.

Core Principles

Having made my intention clear, I would also like to clarify what I firmly believe in. Our principles highlight what we value, what gives our life meaning, keeps us going and what we aspire towards. They are more like a direction than a destination. Some days we might feel contended at how we could align ourselves with them, and some days we might feel desolate at how off the mark we have been. Like lighthouses, our principles do not change their position. We might go off course, but they stay where they are, gently shining their light, trying to show us a way in the darkness.

Each child is wired and inspired differently

I accept and love you the way you are. You are unique, you are different, and you are you. I will not compare you with others; I will not constantly keep expecting and demanding what you might not be able to do or give.

Acceptance of ‘what is’ needs to be at the core of every relationship. Without acceptance, there is a constant battle of comparison, criticism, blaming, shaming and conflict. On the one hand we end up feeling like failures as we desperately try to push the square pegs into neat round holes. Children on the other hand struggle with their failures and inadequacies, which they might carry for the rest of their lives.

One size does not fit all, and that is not a limitation. It is what makes our classrooms, schools and this world such intriguing places. Maya might struggle with math, but her fingers fly as she weaves magic on the canvas with her paintbrush. Arjun might struggle academically but he comes alive on the sports field. Then there is Raghav, who does not seem to show any affinity or talent through his school years but suddenly blossoms as he finds his niche in college.

An emotionally safe space is a prerequisite to any learning

Do you remember a time and space in your school life when you think you learnt the most? What was it about that space that made it possible for it to happen?

When I ask this question, most people share a range of experiences. But, one point they all seem to agree on is how it was a space devoid of fear. Where they felt accepted and where they could raise their hands, take risks, make mistakes and ask questions without fear of being reprimanded. Where they did not feel that their answer would be met with sniggers and humiliation. Where each child felt secure of his or her position in the class and was not hounded by a sense of shame. Where he or she felt respected and did not have to fight for his or her dignity at every step.

These are the questions we need to ask ourselves as teachers:

‘Does every child feel safe enough in my class or with me?’

‘Do they feel they can make mistakes and they would not be shamed?’

‘Are they confident enough to take risks that will accelerate their learning?’

‘Have I built a culture of mutual respect so that the children support each other in their learning?’

For all of you who have responded with a ‘yes’ to all the above, I salute you. You are the rock stars of the teaching profession, and we all look up to you with immense respect. For those who gave a mix of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, I respect you for your honesty and a high five for the journey we are going to take together through this book. For all of you who responded with a ‘no’, it’s fine too. The fact that you have picked up this book means that you are ready to open new windows.

‘No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship,’ said child psychiatrist Dr James Comer as quoted by educator, Rita Pierson in her TED talk ‘Every kid needs a champion’, which encapsulates the foundation of learning so well. If I ask you to look back and think of one teacher you learned from the most, it is inevitable that you would pick a teacher who cared for you, whom you liked and who made a difference in your life. The simple truth is that children do not learn from teachers they do not like or look up to.

I get fascinated by the stories I hear from parents as they trace their child’s journey through the years.

‘He had the most wonderful teacher in the nursery. He loved her and enjoyed going to school and learning.’

‘In KG, his teacher did not understand him and constantly complained about him. That was a bad year for him as he did not have any friends too.’

‘In Class I again he had a kind teacher, and he picked up a lot.’

‘If he likes the teacher, he goes all out to do well in the subject.’

‘His chemistry teacher does not like him, so he just does not get that subject.’

And they go on and on, connecting the dots, and building a captivating picture of their child’s growth so deeply entwined with his relationship with his teacher. If I look back at my children’s development, I can trace a similar rise and fall with every relationship they built every year. The core, interestingly enough, is their relationship with their class teacher and the community she built in her classroom.

What we focus on grows

This simple idea is explained very well by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, teacher, author, poet and peace activist who lives in the village of Plum in the south of France. I am sure many of you are familiar with this wise person’s remarkable work. For the ones who are not, please do note his name down, as you

will be encountering him throughout the book. A deep transformation can make for a paradigm shift, shaking you out of a complacent existence forever. I went through something like that at a five-day retreat with Thay (teacher) and other monks and nuns from Plum.

Amongst his many teachings, one that impacted me deeply is what he calls the ‘art of selective watering’. According to him, there are negative and positive seeds in each one of us. The negative seeds could be of anger, hate, discrimination, jealousy, etc., whereas the positive seeds comprise joy, compassion, understanding and loving kindness, etc. The seeds that are watered regularly take roots and thrive. For example, if a teacher spends a lot of time energizing her seeds of anger, her life could be about how difficult her students are, or how miserable her scheming colleagues make her feel. Her seeds of anger will take root and become strong enough to dictate what she thinks, how she relates to others, or how she works. Similarly, a teacher who nurtures seeds of joy will cultivate a rich harvest of nurturing relationships and deep, loving bonds with her students.

We, in turn, are constantly watering the seeds of our children around us, with every look, word, expression and touch of ours. And what we focus on will grow. In our anxiety to ‘correct’ them, we end up criticizing them, complaining about them and lecturing them. The more problems we see, the more we crank up our negativity. Then we get very surprised when they react, rebel or just become indifferent to us.

Be the Change

‘Be the change you wish to see in the world.’ –Mahatma Gandhi

This one is a little difficult to wrap our head around. We live in a society where we feel everything else needs to change but us. We are quick at finding fault with others.

‘Our education system is like that, what can I do.’

‘There is no time to try out all these new new-fangled ideas.’

‘Children are so spoilt nowadays.’

‘Parents expect too much.’

Suppose we stepped back from this culture of quick judgements and instead of feeling victimized, focused on ourselves.

‘Given our present education system, how can I be the best teacher for my children?’

‘What do I need to do to grow and evolve as a teacher and human being?’

‘Despite what is happening in their homes, what values and culture do I need to build in my classroom?’

It is only when we shift from a position of blame, burden or fault-finding to one of ‘it’s not about them, it’s about me’ will we feel more empowered. If we stay focused on the ‘it’s their fault’ approach, we will only end up feeling more and more frustrated and annoyed, leading to inevitable burnout. However, if instead, we take teaching as a process of soul-searching, self-growth and discovery, every day is a new window of opportunity for self-evolution. I can almost hear some of you saying, ‘Where is the time?’ I hear you, I respect your position, but I have a simple request, please hear me out. Give this book a chance, and you might find your answer.

Kids will do well if they can

We are all hardwired for learning and growing. As their bodies mature, babies move from one milestone to another seamlessly. Each one at his or her pace but always learning, moving forward, falling, picking up and starting afresh with renewed energy and enthusiasm. Some of these skills are innate, like the motor milestones, communication, socialization, music, play and exploration. Some others are non-innate, like learning the alphabet, writing, calculus, trigonometry, classical music, etc. Children are sent to school for non-innate learning. Our schools are designed in an industrial model where children are part of an assembly line that starts at nursery and ends at Class XII. Educator Ken Robinson puts this metaphor brilliantly in his TED talk, ‘Bring on the learning revolution’.

The assembly line is highly structured with tests and examinations at every step to filter out ‘faulty products’. The focus is always on their fault. We are all products of this industrial model and accept its way of working without any question. Some children thrive in this industrial model and are exhibited as its prized products. Their names are written in bold letters in the hall of fame. Then there are some who pass through the corridors of these assembly lines invisible, forgotten, at times thrown out prematurely, branded as being defective. Not fit for learning.

If this is not a farce of the modern-day world, then I am not sure what is.

‘He cannot learn.’

‘She does not want to learn.’

‘He is not interested in learning.’

‘She does not want to do well.’

Kids will do well if they can. This is a line I read in Rob Greene’s book, The Explosive Child, and it has stayed with me. If children are not doing well, we need to find out what is stopping them.

‘Is it to do with the wiring of the child, some learning difficulty where she is struggling to pick up the skills?’

‘Is she going through a difficult time emotionally?’

‘What is the child’s learning style? Do I need to change the pedagogy to engage him in learning?’

‘Is she feeling emotionally safe in the classroom?’

I firmly believe that if we made schools emotionally safe spaces where children could be curious, explore, learn, grow at their own pace, and the teacher’s role was to make sure that each child got the optimal stretch, we would be amazed at the way our children would thrive on learning. There is this wonderful, often quoted aphorism, ‘If I cannot learn the way you teach, can you teach me the way I learn?’

The word pedagogy is often misunderstood as standing for ‘teaching methods and practices’ or ‘what teachers do’. It stems from the word paideutike, meaning the art of leading the child. Therefore, this art does not need to be limited to classrooms; it is all practices and processes that help children learn and grow.

We make stories and stories make us

Human beings are meaning makers and have a deep-seated need to make sense of the world. Stories – the ones we tell about ourselves and others – help us make sense of the world and our place in it. They provide a framework or lens for making meaning. These stories shape our lives and the choices we make.

From the time children are little, we start making stories about them. ‘She has a mind of her own’, ‘He loves all the attention he can get’, ‘Have you seen him kick, he will be a great footballer’, ‘She is like her aunt, she is going to grow up to be a dancer’. These stories or narratives (I use them interchangeably though in the strictest sense there is a slight semantic difference between the two) are like garments we weave for them. Our language is the thread that knits these garments.

These stories are always embedded in a social- cultural-political context and are woven depending on the prescriptions of the dominant culture. A lot depends on who makes these stories, how they are told, how they are spread, what they do to a child. They have a deep relationship with power, social hierarchy, visibility and how a person is valued in society.

Schools are like factories where these stories are manufactured. Some children at the top end of the hierarchy enjoy rich, diverse and colourful stories which are told and retold in their classes, assemblies, annual days, sports days, noticeboards, websites, award ceremonies and PTMs. They are described as ‘intelligent’, ‘talented’, ‘bright’, ‘gifted’, ‘articulate’, ‘confident’, ‘beautiful’ and so on and so forth. However, there are many who spend most of their life in school clinging on to single, thin narratives of ‘failure’, ‘can do better’ and ‘not up to the mark’, ‘not bright, ‘not confident’, ‘not coping’ – every ‘not’ restricting and making their narratives thinner, limited, with lesser scope for possibilities. These are the children who are forgotten, who are invisible and who come to school for the daily humiliation of never being good enough.

I am saying this not to judge or criticize teachers who propagate a culture of invisibility. However, I do want all of us to introspect on some of the ‘taken for granted’ stories that we spread about children. And what we need to do to align ourselves with practices and approaches that are empowering, respectful and work towards building richer stories for all children where there is No Child Left Invisible.

Life is a daily practice

This is one thing I have started believing in more and more as I grow older. Life is not lived in years; it is not even lived in months or weeks. It is lived day to day, moment to moment. Maybe it is my practice of mindfulness that has made me so aware of it. Anyhow, it has been in many ways a liberating belief. I start my day with my daily journal, meditation and exercise and set an intention to make it a rich day where I stay centred and be connected. Some days I am in the flow where I can end the

day with ‘Yes, I did it!’, some days I feel like a stranger in my

own life and some days are a mix of the two. However, I have

made my peace with myself and no longer beat myself for

messing up.

This is the one theme that runs through all the chapters of the book – all skills of learning, living and teaching are also strengthened through regular practice. So stop being so harsh on yourself, go and take risks. Make mistakes, get into a mess, fall and rise again from the ashes like a phoenix. Tomorrow is another day.

Those who have read my previous book, All You Need is Love: The Art of Mindful Parenting, will be familiar with my five C approach and model – Connect, Coach, Community, Care and Commit. In this book, I have used the same model as I believe it applies to any setting and speaks to each one of us at an instinctive level. I start the journey with ‘We makes stories and stories make us’ and then move on to Connect – the keystone, the foundation of any learning – and Community, which focuses on nurturing ethical leaders and building inclusive and emotionally safe ecosystems. Coach underlines how crucial it is to accept and celebrate diverse learners, build thinking classrooms, rethink discipline and bring in restorative justice which honours personal agency. It also highlights magical enchantments (what is teaching without magic!), fire (yes, you heard me right) and forging meaningful stories. I devote a chapter to the high school experience as I strongly feel that understanding adolescents and working with them requires a whole new outlook and approach. Care deals with how we can learn the art of being mindful leaders and finding our meaning, our ‘Zihuatanejo’! Finally, Commit shows how through grit, passion and faith we can pledge ourselves to this whole-hearted journey of No Child Left Invisible.

Imagine is:

A guide for us to build meaningful Connect and weave out richer stories for our children.

A field guide that will help us construct emotionally safe spaces for inclusive and creative learning in schools.

A companion that will support us in refining our craft so that we can become mindful, empathetic, nurturing,