Exploring APV: Rethinking Education and Poverty

Sunrise at Chandra Badani, Uttarakhand

I sit upon the rustic swing held together by cracked wood and tattered rope overlooking a series of rolling, azure-dyed hills colored from the darkness that began to cover the landscape. Bold pastel oranges begin to wane into cool lavender blues in the sky. I try to hold in heat with crossed arms as the air cools. In the far distance, layers of blue-ridged mountainscapes stack against eachother, slowly dissipating into a foggy horizon. Small lights of distant villages flicker across the hills like hovering fireflies. I inhale a deep breath of dry, cleansing air and then release a thunderous exhale against the sheer silence. I observe the vast stretches of empty space beyond myself as sitar and flute rhythms hum quietly through the commune, converging with the earlier music of the children in school that still played in my ears. “Ryan sir! A jao!” young Babita, calls to me. We sit around a solid oak table next to the fire as we retell stories of the day over chai. These eight people are the entire school staff, housemates and APV family. Everyday together they meditate, teach, cook, maintain the commune and explore nature around them. An hour later, we sit with our eyes closed in lotus position and covered with blankets in a silent, pitch-black room. I struggle to focus as remnants of Mumbai from just twelve hours prior still stir in my mind.

Flashback: 24 Hours Prior
The auto-rickshaw bolts around an elderly chaiwallah. The driver abruptly brakes, honks loudly at a car and shouts obscenities in Hindi, “arrey kya karein?! Piche jao bem chod!” Ganesh overlooks from above the drivers head. Outside, buildings stack around shanty scrap metal huts, jewelry stores, open sewers and temples to compose the sprawling cityscape of Mumbai. Adjacent to us, a posh woman on her phone wearing glittering high heels, an elegant salwar-kameez and gold adornment crosses the street, missing a front bumper by a hair as thin as the lines of her kajal. A different woman dashes across the street in broken sandals and a faded red sari as she grasps on to her baby wrapped in torn cloth. Red light. Exhaust fumes from other cars and a nearby burning trash pile stir all around me like a thick cloud of cigarette smoke from a crowded bar. Horns blare, engines rev and the driver’s temper rages. Still red, we dart forward and the engine roars as we pick up speed until we arrive at crowded Bandra train station. Pushing, shoving and sweating profusely, I claw my way through heavy crowds to board my train and aggressively claim a spot against the wall crammed with dozens of other men. The train cuts right through the city, exposing slums, modern skyscrapers, polluted rivers and crowded markets. Smoke fills the sky of Mumbai today, leaving an unrecognizable grey. The moist heat sticks to my skin and hair. As I mentally recite my notes for a session on TB prevention, a man spits crimson-colored paan.

Planes over Mumbai and cars across Uttarakhand

Last week, I visited in Ashram Paryavaran Vidyalaya in Anjanisain, Uttarakhand for one week to experience a different, isolated life within India that goes unseen under the radar. The silence, the space and the solitude—I could not believe that I was in the same country at times after months in the megacity of Mumbai. The objective of the visit was to observe the unique pedagogies practiced in the school’s secondary education. I wanted to see how Magic Bus’ play-focused curriculum relates to APV’s practical approaches to education since both promote the idea of children “learning through doing”. Both are very different organizations, as Magic Bus is a youth mentorship NGO that works across India, while APV is a grassroots school based in one small community. I stayed a full week to understand the complete picture of how the school operates. Upon walking up the steep hill of steps that passes through the ashram and school, I arrived at the commune where teachers and the school’s unofficial leader, Anandji Dwivedi, live. I was warmly welcomed as a part of the community and felt immediately enchanted. After only a few conversations, I began to see the school as more of a radical social revolution than an institution: there are no titles, no visible hierarchy and no fear allowed. I would eventually learn of the absolute collectivity of everything, that teachers and students are friends and that true education should not be merely an end — but a means toward liberation. 

I spent five days attending classes and group meditation (4x a day—with two 1-hour sessions starting at 4:30 A.M.), teaching, playing music, cooking, hiking and trying to understand how a school with no grades, tests or syllabi actually functions. Speaking with Anandji, I was told about the vision of the school and how they chose to steer away from the norm of Indian education that focuses mostly on dictation, memorization and competition. Supplementing the government curriculum, teachers employ a holistic approach that includes lessons on the ego and self-imposed limitations. Children at APV are taught for free to learn from the world around them, their own innate inner knowledge and from each other. Students learn collectively as teachers use practical methods to convey lessons to kids about complex subjects ranging from math to geography through dance, music, drama and nature. 

There are three important results that I picked up on while at APV: freedom, happiness and praxis. Why are they important in school? At a very practical level, removing academic pressure, enabling children to learn at their own pace and encouraging mindful reflection allows for fuller range of cognitive reasoning. This increases a child’s success at school and professionally in the future. Recalling conversations with young students in Mumbai, a primary problem that keeps many poor students in India out of school is often the education system itself as it proves to be too strict, competitive and alienating. Conversely, the APV model guarantees a child’s success in school since they are not completely dependent on test scores. More importantly for Anandji and the school staff however, is promoting creativity as a means to solve problems at home and within their community. This reinforces a bottom-up alternative to the often inefficient top-down development model as it emphasizes the betterment of the self as a repairing mechanism for society rather than the counter. Although it is too early to test the results since the school is less than a decade old, the teachers themselves serve as examples on how mindful living has improved their living conditions. Similar curriculums that include meditation and mindfulness have proven successful in developed countries like the USA, even in low-income neighborhoods.

When I showed the kids my pictures of Mumbai many of them asked, “are those slums?” Their concern and curiosity were surprising to me since these images were a daily sight in most urban Indian settings like Mumbai. They asked me questions like, “why would they move to such a sad place?” “Where do they see nature?” “Why don’t they stay in their villages?” I had no answers to such complicated questions, but it highlighted a paradox of the world that I have difficulty grappling – a perpetual system that pushes people into cities with promises of opportunity to inevitably trap them in poor, unnatural and even more dangerous living conditions that humans have ever lived. At Magic Bus, we work with underprivileged children from slum communities, the majority of whom have migrated from rural areas. Many of them have left villages through will or force, but many other have left farms where they grow food and live off their land for slums of Mumbai in search of a better life. It is a demented irony that their “better life” in the middle of the economic centers instead delivers unpleasant, socially subordinated and immobile realities. APV’s model of enlightened education may offer a promising alternative to the rural-ruban continuum by teaching children how to use their creatively support make important contributions to sustain their own community. Looking at their shining faces, it saddened me to imagine any of them have to move to slums in a city.

Math Class with Anandji - Folded Paper and Beads

Science Class - An Interactive Lesson on the Solar System

Of course everything is complex though. Not all aspects of life at APV are idyllic. The dark side of health and social problems do impact the lives of the kids significantly. There is more to be done and hopefully APV can continue growing to do so. I was able to help with some curriculum development that was instant gratification since all of my ideas and efforts were immediately valued, supported and appreciated. It really delightful to feel such strong mutual benefits!

The efforts to raise children to heightened awareness of their own powers, overcome insecurities and to teach them practical lesson that society does not is indeed a common ground that both Magic Bus and APV seem to share. After a week of bonding with incredible people, clearing out some mental baggage and witnessing breathtaking Himalyan views—I felt calm, rejuvenated and did not want to go back to life in Mumbai. Upon returning though, it did not take long to remember the double-edged sword: there are definitely a few great things about Mumbai that I could not get up in the mountains!

APV in Action

For more information on APV, please look to APV’s Official Website and here.