Leo once was telling me, sadly, and in a much subdued tone;
Did I know that the lady who works for his mom was telling him that she doesn’t even know where Delhi is? Can you believe it! Isn’t that so sad?
He’s thinking about this tragic cultural divide. Education of the poor. Inequality. This poor woman doesn’t even know the location of our state capital. How can anyone not know where Delhi is?
I have to tell him, dude I don’t even know where Delhi is.
I mean sure, I know vaguely that’s it somewhere up there in the middle. A bit to the left. Maybe.
I’ll google map it if I need to know but the fact is I don’t need to know. Knowledge of the exact latitude and longitude of Delhi is totally useless to me.
How does it matter where it is? Am I running for office? Am I flying a plane there? Am I building a road there? Firstly let me learn how to build a road. Mix the cement, lay the gravel. Let me learn how to drive. All the basic and necessary practicalities.
Then I’ll find out how to get there.
Academics seem to love to hold on to information like it’s a currency. Like it actually has value, but information without context or use is just static.
Some one else was telling me their 10-year-old wanted to drop out of school. The person said they didn’t want this kid to become some unpaad gavaar but I think it’s a pretty good idea. The kid will learn nothing from school.
Schools; all schools and everything they ever taught us, have absolutely no value because there is no context. Beyond the 5th standard nothing taught bears any relation to living in the 21st century or an individual’s aptitude.
Instead of math why not teach banking, finance and taxes? Managing multiple credit cards. Some basic law. Occasional fraud. Useful stuff.
Instead of the elemental tables, how about starting with how to hardwire and fix a washing machine. General DIY. Some plumbing perhaps.
Changing a ball-cock. Ok, so I just wanted to say ball-cock. But lets not get side tracked here. This is a rant.
Instead I now have to pay some guy 60 quid just to walk through my door. Then I have to pay him for each half-hour after that. Me, with my I.C.S.E., XII exam, Foundation, B.A. and M.A. am instead slaving away for a pittance.
So the washing machine won’t work, I’m wearing my underwear inside out, all my socks smell like wet-dog but wow, I know where Delhi is.
School, what a fucking waste. God I wish I was a plumber.