नूँह (Nuh) Experiences

Demonstrating "Eye Yoga" to the kids

I've written before about what it's like to drive from Gurgaon to the villages in the नूँह (typically transliterated as "Nooh" or "Nuh") district of Haryana I've been working in---how, given an hour's car ride, office buildings ultimately make way for water buffalo shelters. I've written before about my general feelings regarding a certain field visit or another---never delving too far into the nitty-gritty details of what it is that my job there looks like. I've even written before about my time spent at the Sehgal Foundation office, my daily life---developing lesson plans and activities that go on to then be field tested. Given all of that, I think that now, a month and a half into my internship, it is finally time to draw back the curtain and tell of exactly what my research and project here in India are all about. It's certainly well past due, and so, in a rather fitting manner, I devote this blog to my "Nooh," and not-so-new, experiences in the field.

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Today's session started, as always, with an introduction question. My supervisor and I had planned to jump right into the lesson today, but thanks to the fact that we had three new students participating, we figured it would be best to give everyone the chance to get to know one another a little better. Coming up with a question on the fly, I asked each student to share what their favorite part of the last two sessions had been. I hoped that this would help the three new recruits feel a little more in the know---we'd already covered the basics of vitamin A, signs of its deficiency, foods that are richest in it, and more, all with games and activities to boot. As the students shared their answers, I was blown away but what they had found to be most enjoyable. My Eye Health Bingo Boards and DIY Eye Checks were a smash hit, just like they had been in the last village I'd worked with, but what struck me more were the little things these kids remembered from each session.

One student shared that he had enjoyed our very first activity together, a blind drawing game we'd used to demonstrate the importance of eyesight. Another girl stated that her favorite part had been the obstacle course we set up using half sheets of paper arranged on the floor, labeled with dangers to show the importance of avoiding unhealthy or potentially harmful decisions. Both of these activities were things that I had put much less work into, and we had spent much less time on as a group, and yet they remembered. Those activities had forwarded singular points along the line of reasoning we had used to back each session's objective, small moments from lessons packed with information and engagement, and yet these niche interactions were what the kids had found most enjoyable.

The group went on like this, sharing the moments and memories they had most enjoyed from our last two sessions together. With that new knowledge, I felt on top of the world. Somehow, through these lessons, I had found a way to fit the interests of a group of children whose lives were completely unlike what mine had looked like at their age. Through trial and error, testing and improvement, I had finally put together a finalized set of vitamin A sessions, and this group was the first to receive it. Their answers, which were varied, individualized, and steeped in excitement, showed me for the first time that I really had created something special. The smiles on these kids' faces as they shared their stories told me more than even their words. I was less than ten minutes into a session that would go on to be over an hour and a half long, and yet there I was, contemplating the bigger picture, and already beaming ear-to-ear at the front of the room.

When I talk about my job here having an incredible sense of fulfillment, this is exactly what I mean.

Following this introductory piece, we proceeded to a pop quiz of sorts. Asking questions based on the knowledge they had gained during the previous sessions, we tested their abilities to remember the pertinent details we discussed together one to two weeks back. It is with confidence and a little bit of pride that I tell you not a single question was missed amongst the group. From which parts of the body vitamin A best supports, to the "SUPER Food" posters I developed to help kids visualize which foods were most beneficial to eye health, these kids aced every question that came their way.

As I looked out around the room, I stood for a moment in awe. Already, these seven- to ten-year-olds knew more about vitamin A and eye health than I had ever picked up in school, and we hadn't even completed our third and fourth sessions with them. I'll admit it, I'm not a prideful person, but in that moment I was truly proud. Between the memories shared and the knowledge dispensed, I knew that I had made an impact on these kids' lives, just as they had already profoundly affected mine.

Next up was eye yoga, a couple of exercises that help to increase circulation to the eyes, keep them moist and clear of foreign objects, and provide a fun and engaging way to practice eye health activities. I stood at the front of the room and demonstrated as a sea of sky blue school uniforms looked at me for direction. I moved my eyes this way and that, around in a clockwise, then counterclockwise manner, and the students followed my lead. We laughed together as some would take a pause with me, only to see their friends still very much "locked in," looking around the room like they were wearing googly eyes. We did a focus exercise, a blinking game, and ended by rubbing our hands together, then gently placing them on our faces to give our eyes a warm blanket at the end of the activity. The kids loved it, and best of all, there are proven benefits linked to regularly taking part in these kinds of activities. A huge win-win.

We collected students' homework assignments, a Vitamin A Detective Worksheet, in which they listed what foods they had taken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the past five days, and told of whether or not there was vitamin A present in each. Discussing together, the children shared their opinions about the assignment. I jotted down the particular things they said they enjoyed about it, and upon asking for improvements, jotted down those ideas as well. I'd be looking through the data from these worksheets at the office tomorrow, hoping to find that the students were able to correctly identify which meals of theirs contained vitamin A, as well as what the source was (spoiler alert: they do, and with incredible accuracy!).

As we moved into the new content for the day, we began with a rock, paper, scissors tournament. This may seem like an odd way to learn anything about vitamin A or eye health, but hear me out before you make that assessment: Today's lesson would be all about making healthy choices, and what better way to show the impact of one's choices than with a game of rock, paper, scissors? It's fun and interactive, but also serves a distinct purpose in relation to our lesson for the day---perfect for innocuously demonstrating one of the key takeaways we aimed to share.

And so it began, girls versus girls and boys versus boys. Given the large Muslim population in this community (Nuh is one of the only districts with a Muslim majority in all of India), the bridging of genders is not generally viewed with the same leniency as it is in the West, and so we split the group accordingly. After one round of rock, paper, scissors, half of the children were "out" and returned to their seats. Another round and we were down to just a quarter, one more and there was only one boy and one girl left. The grand finale pitted these two against one another, a taller, older girl, maybe 11 or 12, wearing her school uniform of a light blue kurta, dark blue pants, and a dark blue scarf to match, against a shorter boy, the youngest of the bunch, likely 7 or 8 by the looks of it, wearing his uniform, a light blue button-down shirt, western style, with the same dark blue pants to match. They stood at the front of the room, with all eyes from the peanut gallery intently focused on their hands. Tension rose after each call:

Rock...

Paper...

Scissors...

The girl threw rock and the boy threw paper. The class, thoroughly entertained and fully enthused by the action, erupted in clapping and cheers. It wouldn't have mattered who won in the end, as all that was truly being celebrated was the excitement of the moment. The two kids returned to their seats, and we soon began to connect the dots with the group about the impacts of the choices they make.

As we moved into the strictly educational portion of the session, discussing the importance of making healthy decisions, I couldn't help but notice the weather outside. Because my supervisor, Aparna, does most* of the talking when it comes to these lessons (*more on that in a little bit), whenever there isn't an activity I'm directly involved in, my mind tends to wander a bit. Typically, these wanderings are entirely contained within my notebook, jotting down whatever thoughts and ideas I have, usually relating to improving the current session or adding to a future one. Today, however, for one brief minute, I made the most of the moment I was in and surveyed my surroundings.

Ahead of me were the children, sitting in two rows and about ten tiny columns on the green mat they'd laid out at the start of the lesson. The floor was concrete, and though we were under a roof, the room was thoroughly open-air. To my right was a wall, a few doors to inner classrooms, and three floor-to-ceiling murals, one depicting the water cycle, and two showing geometry---shapes and angles---with the names of each in both Hindi and English. The paint had worn through near the foot of the murals, but the middles and tops of each were still largely intact. A look to my left offered a stunning scene, the central courtyard of the school, where tall patches of grass grew between buildings---the classrooms, kitchen, playground, and washrooms. Two golden herons, a medium-sized bird with long, slender legs, strutted through this tall grass, their yellow beaks and pale bodies peeking out over the blades of green. Children, too, walked through the space, playing with one another, flying small kites, and lying in the shade of the many nearby trees. A group of young boys had gathered under the tree nearest to our class space, as they listened in on the lesson---an unexpected, but wholly welcome addition to our group. There was one path of laid brick that many of the boys sat on, and it connected each of the buildings. More commonplace in use than this single paved route, however, were the "desire paths" carved into the soil itself by the simple act of children's feet trampling the grass day after day. I watched as the school kids quite literally frolicked in this small green space, and I found that joy to be infectious. I turned my attention back to the students in front of me and got back to work.

As my eyes had been wandering, Aparna discussed the impact of hobbies and habits on our overall health---how choosing to take part in healthy activities over unhealthy ones can help lead to a much more problem-free life moving forward. As these words resonated with the children, I was once again reading through my next role: Explaining the premise of our next game, entirely in Hindi.

I had put together an Eye Health Uno game, based on the idea that healthy activities would reward players and unhealthy ones would add to their struggle. As such, each card, which featured a pictogram of some activity being done, was rated upon this scale, with "healthy" cards being seen as regular or wild, and "unhealthy" ones being turned into draw twos, draw fours, or skips. While Aparna would be explaining the rules, it was my job, in slow and painful Hindi, to explain the pictures on each card and why they were given the designation of "healthy" or "unhealthy."

I should start by saying that this was a bout of self-implicated suffering, and by suffering, I mean enjoyment. I was the one who brought up the idea of my explaining these cards, printing out my cheat-sheet, which had the translation written in English and the actual lines written in both Hindi and Anglicized scripts, just one day prior to this. I spent the night running the lines aloud, surely botching every other word, but at least getting comfortable with my material. As I stood before the class, feeling particularly vulnerable, I began.

It's been a long time since I felt so out of my depth reading something from another language aloud. Flashback to nearly two years ago, as I began school in Malaysia, and this is exactly what that felt like. I've grown accustomed to being surrounded by nothing but Hindi in the field and every time I leave the office, but this was different. I've been making due with my little phrases I know here and there as I've navigated my new life here in India, but in this moment, I felt truly exposed.

Though I know how to read the Hindi script, I was butchering pronunciations left and right. I then relied on the Anglicized version as a crutch and got away with it for a while, but I could tell that my Hindi was just miserable. The effort was there, though, and what matters most is that my words were intelligible, which, despite my horrid mishaps, they somehow were. Aparna stepped in to correct a phrase or two here and there, but for the most part, I got a passing grade. Not a high pass, mind you, I'm talking a C at best and in all likelihood something closer to a D+, but hey, it was an experience well worth the while.

The best part of all of this was when, as I looked up from my cramped script full of notes, I saw the eyes of the entire class trained on me. I knew for a fact that each and every one of these kids was paying attention to the lesson I was giving, whether it be explaining the importance of getting enough sleep or the dangers of taking too much prepackaged or junk foods. As I finished, the kids gave me a round of applause. I was abashed, a little ashamed, though I had laughed off each of those emotions as I made more and more mistakes. By the time I was done, and receiving this ovation, all I was left with was joy. It wasn't a prideful joy in any sense, no, but it certainly wasn't a timid one. I had given this insane idea a shot, and it had worked, if not to the extent that I had hoped, then at least to the extent of functionality.

Following this linguistic experiment, Aparna went on to explain to rules of our Eye Health Uno game. The day before, I had printed out 16 sheets of paper and cut out the 128 cards necessary for two decks. That certainly doesn't sound like a gruelling task, but believe me, after a day chalk full of office work and ending it by cutting so much with a pair of scissors that your hand won't stop cramping, these cards were certainly a labor of love. Add to that the hours I'd spent designing and refining the cards on Canva before I printed them, and that starts to give a sense of my attachment to these activities and my dedication to these kids. I would do anything to help ensure that these kids find learning about eye health and vitamin A to be fun, from sacrificing any sense of linguistic prowess at the front of the room to spending an hour hunched over a garbage can snipping away at cards I can only hope these kids enjoy playing with.

I tell you truly that this was all for the best. With rules now explained, we began. The girls circled around one deck, and the boys around another. The Sehgal Foundation field officer who had been helping us out these past few visits, Kusoomji (I tag on the "-ji" mentioned in my last blog for added respect), assisted with translating as I helped the boys get set while Aparna got a start with the girls. Things were going along swimmingly for the girls, and they picked up on the rules quickly. For the boys, there were still a few struggle spots, like understanding that you could match the color or the picture of the card and how turns worked...

Alright, I'll admit it, there were a lot of struggle spots. I had tried my best, but my Hindi was limited, and Kusoomji's English was too. Aparna stopped by to check in with the group and suggested that we switch. While she explained away to the boys, the girls were genuinely understanding the game, which brought me the best kind of warm fuzzies inside my heart. They got stuck only once, when they ran out of cards from the draw pile, so following that, it became my sole responsibility to shuffle the discard pile back into the deck as necessary. I took my job very seriously and was invested in the game. As one girl announced, "Ek card, ek card!" (One card, one card!), the boys erupted into cries shortly thereafter. All I could make out was "Cheating! Cheating!" in a thick Indian accent, and the giggles of friends as they, too, were in on the act. Though the statements were completely unrelated, I couldn't help but laugh at the dichotomy that was present in this moment. I turned back to the boys after a while, and they had gotten the game down pat by then, which stirred another little something in my heart.

As the Uno games wrapped up, and the Hindi phrases "Draw two! You stared at the sun!" and "Wild card! I'm eating vitamin A-rich foods!" wound down, I was genuinely impressed by the group that sat in front of me. They had learned so much in just three sessions, and I was sad to realize that overmorrow (two days from now) would be my last time visiting these kids. I left the sentimentality behind as best I could, and followed along as Aparna began to explain the links between the game we had just played and the impacts of our choices in the real world. She reiterated the main points from throughout the day and drove home the ideas we intended to leave them with, about forming healthy habits, choosing to partake in healthy activities, and avoiding things that could pose a danger to their health.

We gave a simple homework assignment, a single sheet of A4 paper, which briefly detailed the lessons taught during each session. Scattered around the page were the vitamin A-rich fruits, veggies, and foods we'd spent so much time discussing. This was a culmination of all their learnings, two paragraphs from each session, and it was the students' job to go home and share this information with their parents. It was a simple exercise, and yet it had the potential to double or triple the number of lives impacted by our work. I passed out the pastel papers to each student as Aparna explained the assignment, and the kids all smiled as I came by.

We finished off the session with some discussion and reflection on the day's learnings. The atmosphere was positive and bright, as was the weather outside. Our last two sessions had been in the early monsoon rains, but today was something different. Today was something special. That was particularly evident to me as I handed each Uno deck off to one boy and one girl who had shown particular interest and aptitude in learning the rules. Their eyes held a certain sparkle as I told them they were theirs to keep, so long as they shared with their friends.

By now, we had dismissed the class, packed up our materials, thanked the headmaster and the other teachers whose time we'd taken up to meet with these kids, and were making our way back to the cab. Leaving through that painted gate is always the lowest part of my day when on a field visit, but today it felt oddly comforting. I knew that in leaving, I had given something of myself to these kids. It also helped to know that I would be back in just two days' time.

And so we left. We had some more adventures that afternoon working with malnourished women, but that's a story for another time. For right now, I'm focused on what has done so much to shape my time here and my perspective on the world: working in these rural schools, with these incredible kids. I'm forever grateful for what they've given me: an abundance of नूँह Experiences.

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P.S.

I know the photos have nothing to do with the subject material---that's because they're the only ones I have. The next post I make will have a whole lot more, don't you worry :)

P.P.S.

Thanks for sticking around and reading all the way through this 3600-word behemoth of a blog. I truly appreciate your time, attention, and patience. As a little reward, here's a kitten to rest your eyes looking at after reading for so long.

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Thanks!