A: No. People everywhere are entitled to choose the educational setting they feel is best for their children.
There’s an important context in which we need to view this phenomenon, however.
In a world with extreme imbalances of power and wealth, the more powerful partner in the cultural exchange sometimes embeds deep – often unconscious – assumptions of its own superiority. When international development agencies, NGO’s, missionary societies, and volunteer groups travel to rural land-based cultures in order to “help” them, it powerfully projects the assumption of the superiority of the “developed” nations and the inferiority of land-based societies. Even the word “developing” implies a kind of evolutionary process whereby other cultures will inevitably “advance” to our superior level.
In addition, the multinational corporations that drive the global economy spend billions advertising the modern consumer lifestyle, and they do a very good job of making people want what they have to sell (it’s been called the “Coca-Colonization” of the world.) The result is that many people in the non-industrialized parts of the world have come to feel that their way of life – their food, their clothing, their houses, their entertainment, their work, their skin color, their language, and, of course, their way of educating children – is inferior, and that a better life awaits them to the extent that they mimic the lifestyles of affluent westerners.
But the advertising agencies aren’t communicating what may be lost when people enter this version of reality – things like extended family and community, clean air and water, and the food security that comes with living on one’s own land. They may not realize how many elders end their lives in nursing homes or how many children suffer from depression, eating disorders, and drug and alcohol problems. No one tells them that 50% of public school children in major American cities fail to graduate from high school, and that the quality of life that awaits these children is not something that they would have reason to envy.
In Ladakh, where we shot “Schooling the World,” most people in rural villages want their children to go to school, at least in part because they accurately perceive that school knowledge and certification is granted a higher status in the larger society than their own traditional knowledge. Young Ladakhi women use chemical skin-lightening creams because they accurately perceive that a higher status is accorded to people with lighter skin in India. And many Ladakhi Buddhist nuns will tell you that they hope to be reborn as a man, because men are accorded a higher status within Tibetan Buddhism. So what people want may be a reflection of intrinsic value, or it may be a reflection of a discriminatory system that causes them to devalue themselves and accord a higher status to someone else. And when outsiders offer to “help,” they’re making value judgments about these desires; nobody collects money from schoolchildren to buy skin-lightening creams –– or cigarettes, or cell phones, or many of the other things that people may want. They raise money to fund schools, because they believe that this is a superior way of raising children, and that the school curriculum is superior to the local Indigenous knowledge that children would otherwise learn.
What the film “Schooling the World” attempts to do is to challenge that assumption of superiority on its home turf, and to suggest that the perception of the superiority of school knowledge to traditional knowledge is to a very great extent discriminatory rather than a reflection of actual value. For example, it has been said that the average Indigenous person from Papua New Guinea can recognize seventy species of birds by their songs. Western biologists studying PNG ecosystems have been astonished by the depth, breadth, and specificity of the ecological knowledge of the local people. Children traditionally would accompany their mothers on gathering trips in the forest, where they would engage in a kind of call-and-response song game which has the effect of teaching these birdsongs. Some researchers speculate that the vast majority of our collective knowledge of ecosystems resides in Indigenous populations, and scientists are rushing to record a few small fragments of this knowledge before it vanishes. So when PNG children spend most of their childhood in a schoolroom, they will be losing much of this rich and detailed knowledge of their own ecosystem – including their ability to sustain themselves independently on the land – in order to gain, in most cases, a very rudimentary knowledge of modern school subjects, which may in the end have little or no real economic value. Martyn Namorong of Papua New Guinea has referred to this phenomenon as “The Education Trap.”
We would suggest that it would be a good alternative for people to feel that specific skills they may desire — literacy, practical math, a little germ theory, the knowledge required to navigate legal or governmental issues — could be acquired without the radical shift in the structure of community life that occurs with the full-time institutionalization of children. In a remote region of Afghanistan, for example, teachers go to stay in the yurts of Kyrgyz nomads to teach the children without the disruption of traditional culture and livelihood that would occur if the children were sent to a brick-and-mortar school. In a working-class neighborhood in Delhi, a non-compulsory drop-in resource center provides opportunities for informal self-directed learning as well as classes, tutoring, and enrichment activities like drama, music, and field trips. More flexible models like these could allow for the efficient sharing of specific skills while still allowing children time for the side-by-side experiential learning from their elders which is the heart of knowledge transmission in many societies, and if models like this could be developed, families would not feel they had an “all-or-nothing” choice to either send kids to full-time school or completely forswear access to modern skills.
It is important to remember, however, that there are still Indigenous people in many parts of the world who have no interest in modern education or in economic “development,” and who prefer to continue their traditional land-based livelihoods and to raise and educate their children in their traditional ways. They are quite rightly skeptical of the “Whites in Shining Armor” who come to save them from their supposed “ignorance” and “illiteracy.” The children of these parents will often be referred to as “truant,” and the parents as “neglectful” of their children’s education. The central point of the “Schooling the World,” however, is that these parents are making a perfectly legitimate choice which should be respected by all concerned.
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