We can beat this.

I remember sitting in a lecture hall in Teacher’s College only two years back, surrounded by 400 of my friends. The professor displayed a situation on the board and we were told to think-pair-share- a standard teaching strategy where students are required to think about the answer independently, share with their “elbow buddy” and then finally share their answer with the class. The situation read something like this:

Your new teaching job is located in a remote part of the world. You are surrounded by teachers who are constantly beating their students with sticks and using other forms of corporal punishment to discipline their students. You know that it is wrong but you want to blend into the culture. Teachers tell you that if you do not beat the students, you will not be able to control them.

I remember thinking quickly about how I would tackle that situation. I decided you have to do whatever you can in your own classroom, use your own teaching methods, and do not bother with those around you. As a teacher, you have certain values, and changing these values does not define being able to “adapt” to a new culture, especially if there is evidence that your actions are benefitting these students.  

A good pic.

I received a call from a friend during our first week in our Bhutanese placement. She was in a rage. I calmly asked her what was wrong and she proceeded to rant about the discipline happening in her school- children were being beaten with bamboo sticks, fists, and having their ears pulled. I could not believe what I was hearing and fortunately could not offer any advice since none of this was evident at my school. We discussed for a long time and she ended the conversation saying that she was going to keep track of the teachers using these methods and try her best to make a change in her school.

While I agreed that her situation was serious, my initial reaction was that it’s not our place, as an outsider, to change the entire system. I was hurt by what was happening, but I was not sure that influencing others’ actions, culturally, was the right thing to do. Certainly I was not going to beat in my own classroom, but I was not sure how much influence I could have on the others. Additionally, because these students grew up on this system, I did feel that they were more mentally and physically stronger and hence able to deal with this type of punishment. That being said, no part of me agreed that corporal punishment was having a positive impact on the students in the longterm.

A little while later I stood at the front of our daily assembly. I have grown to truly enjoy this community experience. It always begins the same way with our hands in prayer, followed by two students presenting a speech, some announcements and the anthem. One particular day, however, this calm, meditative experience was suddenly shattered when our principal took a fist to a couple students’ heads. I brainstormed what they could have done- killed someone, stolen money, poisoned a teacher. Of course none of this seemed possible nor did even these actions warrant the principal’s behaviour. I turned to the teacher beside me, “oh these two are not paying attention,” and she started to chuckle.  

Neither am I, I thought. For twenty minutes, you must stand completely erect, hands by your side, facing the front every morning. You have an itch? Scratch it quickly. Be subtle. The dogs are fighting beside you? Don’t you dare turn your head. The hardest for me, is trying not to watch the birds soaring in the valley below. Almost every morning they grace us with their beautiful performance, but I must hold my attention on the assembly. An impossible task for the antsy and fidgety type- AKA me.

Over the course of last year, I began to notice the corporal punishment in the school and my anxiety, the inner conflict of how to react as an outsider was compounding. It became increasingly clear that the concerns my friend faced at her school, were very much embedded in our system as well. I want to emphasize that not every teacher at school beats, but many of them do. And many of them beat severely. The advice I told myself in teachers college no longer seemed that easy. I’d walk into class to find giant bamboo sticks hidden away in the corner:

“For beating Miss!” exclaimed the students excitedly.

I continue to throw the sticks out the window to the applause by the students up until this day.

Grade 7 test answer, Namgay Choden. 

My concern grew as did my confusion about how the students were really being affected by their punishments. How could a smack by a bamboo stick across the back of your head warrant a big belly laugh by the students? It seemed so contradictory to have this reaction in a Buddhist culture which so much values selflessness and respect and sympathy for others. Certainly seeing their friends being beaten would make them think twice about their behaviour. And maybe it does.

The assumption I made halfway through last year was that students were beaten because their behaviour was what Bhutanese teachers would deem as “insufficient” and not conducive to creating a positive learning environment. This did not justify their actions, but I could understand it, without assimilating into that culture.

One day last year, I was walking out the door of my grade 6 classroom, to an overwhelming, “Don’t leave Miss!”

They couldn’t possibly enjoy English class that much.

The roar from the students continued, “Don’t leave us Miss!”

A student quickly explained that they would be receiving their science tests back in the following class. For every wrong answer on their test, they would be beaten by their teacher. This means, a student who scores 18 out of 20 would still be beaten. Would still be mentally brainwashed that they are “not good enough,” “that they don’t understand the concepts,” and most of all “must do better than the last test.”

What they remember is not that they almost got perfect, but that they were physically hurt by their teacher. They become fearful and anxious.

The equation is obvious: study for your test, work hard, and you will not be beaten. This is easy. The teacher no longer has to try. They don’t have to focus energy on creating a positive learning environment where their students can learn and question their learning. They can simply motivate through fear.

I can recognize this, but I cannot explain it effectively to Bhutanese teachers. Nor do I truly feel that as an outsider, it would be appropriate. Corporal punishment is so much embedded in the system that any change seems unreasonable and far too ambitious for them.

Turning our classroom into the solar system. 

I was fortunate to attend a workshop last year on “Educating for Gross National Happiness.” I was beaming for most of the weekend with the progressive ideas presented by the teachers, the new ways of teaching, which emphasize cooperative and interactive learning. It was exciting and incredibly motivating to be surrounded by engaged and active teachers. But my mind continued to be drawn to the corporal punishment I had witnessed at school. Why don’t we work on weeding that out of our system, before we can even discuss the values of “gross national happiness?” These progressive ideas contradict the fear that the students are so much experiencing every single day in almost every single class. There was a giant paradox in trying to implement these ideas in a system that is already so laden with authoritative practices.

I conducted a presentation on positive discipline techniques upon arrival back at school from the workshop. I gave the teachers concrete ways that they could implement these practices in their classrooms with the resources we have available. We discussed the decision by the Bhutanese Ministry of Education in 1997, which stated corporal punishment should not be used in schools. We discussed the 2008 resolution to ban corporal punishment. I emphasized the importance of positive discipline and admitted that it will take many years before these practices can be implemented effectively. Students will take time to adapt and change their behaviour in response to that system. Most of all, I made a significant effort to be understanding and not condescending in how I presented the material. 

The response by the teachers was concerning. Many responded with lines such as, “but you don’t understand miss, this is how it has always been. This is how we do things here.”

Yes, that is true. But why not begin to make small changes and start somewhere?

I committed myself after this presentation and the workshop to doing exactly this. I decided to simply focus on what I was doing in my own classroom and not let the thoughts of other teachers get to me.        Most of all, not to become weak mentally in my own classroom due to the contrast in the teaching philosophies of those around me.   

The day after my presentation, I was surprised to see two of my students prostrating to our “goddess of wisdom” statue outside the school for an entire 45 minute period. I asked them why they felt the need to do that. Instead of being beaten the students were told to prostrate- to now associate religion as a form of discipline.

Progress, I thought.

My biggest challenge last year was with my rowdy, to say the least, grade 4 class. Students who would jump through the window, cut eachothers’ hair, swallow pen ink, and sucker punch their elbow buddy. These students in particular were so conditioned to a system of corporal punishment that any stray from that was simply an outlet for them to act out- mostly in a negative way. Positive discipline techniques, where students were rewarded for positive behaviour, where students recognized what they did wrong, were way beyond their limit.

But we worked at it. And we had lots of stickers. And students rewarded eachother with a big “thuuuumbs up” when someone did something positive in class. And we had circle discussions on ways to “make our class nicer, to be kinder to eachother.” And we created classroom rules. And we wrote constructive letters to improve our behaviour the next day. And I sent students on short runs during class to get rid of their energy so they could focus in class. And Miss Sarah continued to pull out her hair after class, because the progress was so small. But we continued to work. 

Until one day I walked in with a giant meter stick to measure the board at the back and the students grew silent. They were conditioned to see a stick and think “beating.”

This would be easy I thought. I don’t have to even beat I just have to put this stick on my desk.

But that’s not why I was here. I came to do what I could in my own class, to bring in new ways, and try to build a community, build a family in my class to steer away from this corporal punishment. To give these students the opportunity to recognize why what they did was wrong and do better the next day.

I continue with this battle. I am not an experienced teacher, but I am motivated and I am creative. I can come up with strategies the morning of, but implementing them in this rigid, corporal punishment system is my challenge.

Grade 7 Test answer, Tshering Dendup. 

Last week I walked up to a class with a class 8 student who works on my school newspaper. He’s a rowdy boy, but he is one of the more well-read and open-minded students I have met. I have grown to really admire him. He asked me on our walk which class I was going to and if these students were “naughty.”

“In fact, they do seem to be a bit more naughty than last year. But I think it’s because there are 40 of them now in that tiny little room,” I responded.

“Miss is beating?” I was shocked at his question.

“Oh no. Not me. Do you think beating is good, Jigme?” I asked.

“I think sometimes. Sometimes students have to be beat. But other students can learn when teacher advises them. But advice doesn’t always work.”

I thought for a moment. I think Jigme nailed the current challenges of this.

And so I continue to have to hope. I continue to gain strength in my own classroom, to recognize the growth in how the students respond to positive discipline. Most of all, to make my students realize their growth. I work against every grain to make my students comfortable enough that they can express their thoughts and speak without that constant fear and anxiety of that damn stick.

I walked into my 7B class the other day. I whispered to them, “I have a secret for you.”

“What!” whispered the class.

“I care about each and every one of you,” I whispered.

“That’s not a secret miss. We know that,” said Choney in the back.