3 things I do not miss about India #MondayMusings
Last week, I shared my list of 5 things which I miss dearly about India.
This week, I have put together a list of 3 things which I do not miss about India. This is a personal list.
The semi-automatic washing machine –
I do not miss the whole day affair of washing dirty laundry twice a week having a semi-automatic washing machine for assistance. It had been a real bane involving multiple to and fro transfers from the wash tub to the spinner.
Why did I buy it in the first place? The answer is I was completely brainwashed with respect to its advantages over a fully automatic model. Tell me I was naive.
Thankfully we have a fully automatic washing machine now. Does this sound vain?
Another one is also about washing.
I do not miss the rigourous efforts I was putting into washing Dhruv’s 3 sets of white school uniform twice a week. I realised one really needs to be either in love with washing or be in the professional washing business to be able to do this with contentment on a weekly basis.
I spent the whole of the last year in awe of Dhruv’s ability to make his uniform worthy of modeling for the Daag achhe hain na advertisement every single school day.
His uniform, presently, is a yellow T-shirt and a grey coloured pant. Life is easy this way.
Dhruv’s constant complaints about his school in India.
This is a serious one.
Most of his last year passed in complaining about everything related to his school whether it was the loud, screaming and shouting teachers who did not have a single positive word to say to the children in the class or the physically aggressive children in his class and, certainly, the long school hours (almost 8 and1/2 hours including commuting and school time).
If you place a highly sensitive child in an unempathetic school system, the consequences can be dire. As a result, Dhruv and I stayed stressed. He did not want to go to school and appeared depressed nearly every morning.
The school was too big with too many watertight processes in place. Getting to talk to the teachers in person was permitted only on the last Fridays of the month. The school administration was also not too helpful. Even getting through the board number was a difficult deal. I spoke to Dhruv’s teacher about his sensitivity, wrote letters but no solution worked out. He was just one out of 37 in the class.
I can go on and on about the school and make this post only about it. Because you can understand what a big pain was it for both of us. I was all alone to deal with it and often blamed for my inability to make him a fighter.
But, I will stop here.
I am relieved that he is loving his school in Preston. He tells me the teachers, here, treat the children with kindness. He is new in his class, the session is almost getting over, the syllabus is more and advanced compared to what he had studied in India and the rest of his class is ahead of him. Yet, the teachers are patient and are encouraging him positively every single day. He is under no pressure, happily wakes up every morning to get ready, eats his breakfast well and looks forward to the 10-minute walk to school.
This weekend, he asked us if we could go to his school to see how it looks on Saturday evening. This speaks something.
PS – In case, you are based in Bangalore and looking for a school for your sensitive child, you can mail me to know the name of Dhruv’s school in India and can strike it off from your prospective school list.
Linking this post with #MondayMusings hosted by Corinne Rodrigues