Cranes ferret out earth, workers scurry around. There is little construction yet, but plenty of promotion, as a rash of billboards herald the imminent arrival of a new education city, spread over 170 acres, to be built at a cost of Rs 100 crores, of all the places, in Dantewada.
Better known for battles between security forces and Maoist rebels, Dantewada is also the district with the lowest literacy rate in India, just 42 per cent.
The new district collector, a 29 year old man, OP Choudhary, wants to change that. But his prescription is not primary school reform. Instead, he wants to quick-start professional education.
'Chu Lo Aasman' (aim for the sky), is the tagline he has coined. It is plastered all over a temporary campus on the town outskirts, where 117 boys and 173 girls of class 11 and 12 have been brought from all over the district to receive special coaching for entrance exams to medical and engineering colleges.
"Can you guess how many students are studying maths in class 12 in the whole district?" Choudhary asks. "Just 33," he says, with emphasis. Few students study beyond class 10 in Dantewada, he goes on, and those who do, prefer arts, something he considers unfortunate, since according to him, "science offer better vocational prospects".
The view is rooted in his own life experience. After attending classes in a village school, he graduated in science, before making it to the Indian civil service in 2005, - "at 22, the youngest in the batch", he says, with pride.
Soon after taking charge of Dantewada's administration in April 2010, he decided to invest in improving the prospects of 400 science students. To this end, he cherrypicked the best teachers, renovated an existing campus, painted the buildings in white, and named them J C Bose house, C V Raman house, Kalpana house, A P J house, after prominent Indian scientists and mathematicians, one of whom is a former president.
And, as icing on the cake, he signed up a professional institute, from where else, the city of Kota, the mecca of coaching classes.
Rakesh Patel, a mechanical engineer from IIT Roorkee, taught at a coaching institute in Indore before he landed here. "The institute told me they were sending me to Raipur, but it turned out to be Dantewada," he said. "But frankly it is not that bad. In fact, the students here are more disciplined than anywhere else".
The students spoke in unison about the teaching being qualitatively better, whether it is Ashutosh, the son of a prosperous trader from Geedam, a bustling town, or Kavita Mandavi, the daughter of a poor farmer. She is part of a group of 30 girls who moved en masse to the campus last week, after the collector delivered a pep talk in their school in Katekalyan village.
Campus supervisor, Mohan Netam, is quick to point out that most students are tribal. 16 year old Santosh Podiyam is the first student from village Badeshetti to qualify class 10 exams. Along with his friend Kako Mahendra Kumar, who comes from Kotur, another remote village, he says "if we had been lucky to get kind of arrangement in school in childhood, our minds would have been better developed".
Incidentally, the primary schools in both Kako's and Kavita's villages no longer function. More than 200 schools in Dantewada shut down in the years following 2005 after sustained bouts of strife between Maoists and Salwa Judum, a vigilante militia backed by the state. While the state blamed Maoists for bombing school buildings, Maoists claimed they were compelled to do so once security forces started occupying them.
Five years later, the stalemate continues, even though security forces have vacated the schools, and the Maoists have signalled their willingness to allow classes to resume. "The collector could start with rebuilding these schools," says an activist who requested anonymity since he works in collaboration with the government. "He could then do something about fixing rampant corruption, improve the learning environment, sensitise teachers, most of whom come from other regions and treat adivasi students with contempt. This place needs systemic education reform, not quick fixes". Without that, the activist says, the state might come up with a handful of 'trophy students', but the majority will be alienated, and left open for Maoist recruitment.
"I agree my approach is centralised," says the collector, in defence of his plans. "But I believe its best to show results in one area before spreading out". What better way to do that than build an 'Education City' in one place, complete with a polytechnic, special coaching centres, two residential schools, a sports facility, to be funded half way by mining companies, half way by centre's development funds, and to be inaugurated soon by the chief minister himself.
When he is not poring over its blueprint, Choudhary is at the temporary campus, fussing over everything, from the food menu to floor tiles. His favourite hangout is a room called 'Toppers'. Here, four students, with the highest marks, have been given extra space to study in peace.
"Imagine, even if a handful of our kids make it to professional colleges," says Choudhary, flashing a smile, "what an achievement it would be".
Better known for battles between security forces and Maoist rebels, Dantewada is also the district with the lowest literacy rate in India, just 42 per cent.
The new district collector, a 29 year old man, OP Choudhary, wants to change that. But his prescription is not primary school reform. Instead, he wants to quick-start professional education.
'Chu Lo Aasman' (aim for the sky), is the tagline he has coined. It is plastered all over a temporary campus on the town outskirts, where 117 boys and 173 girls of class 11 and 12 have been brought from all over the district to receive special coaching for entrance exams to medical and engineering colleges.
"Can you guess how many students are studying maths in class 12 in the whole district?" Choudhary asks. "Just 33," he says, with emphasis. Few students study beyond class 10 in Dantewada, he goes on, and those who do, prefer arts, something he considers unfortunate, since according to him, "science offer better vocational prospects".
The view is rooted in his own life experience. After attending classes in a village school, he graduated in science, before making it to the Indian civil service in 2005, - "at 22, the youngest in the batch", he says, with pride.
Soon after taking charge of Dantewada's administration in April 2010, he decided to invest in improving the prospects of 400 science students. To this end, he cherrypicked the best teachers, renovated an existing campus, painted the buildings in white, and named them J C Bose house, C V Raman house, Kalpana house, A P J house, after prominent Indian scientists and mathematicians, one of whom is a former president.
And, as icing on the cake, he signed up a professional institute, from where else, the city of Kota, the mecca of coaching classes.
Rakesh Patel, a mechanical engineer from IIT Roorkee, taught at a coaching institute in Indore before he landed here. "The institute told me they were sending me to Raipur, but it turned out to be Dantewada," he said. "But frankly it is not that bad. In fact, the students here are more disciplined than anywhere else".
The students spoke in unison about the teaching being qualitatively better, whether it is Ashutosh, the son of a prosperous trader from Geedam, a bustling town, or Kavita Mandavi, the daughter of a poor farmer. She is part of a group of 30 girls who moved en masse to the campus last week, after the collector delivered a pep talk in their school in Katekalyan village.
Campus supervisor, Mohan Netam, is quick to point out that most students are tribal. 16 year old Santosh Podiyam is the first student from village Badeshetti to qualify class 10 exams. Along with his friend Kako Mahendra Kumar, who comes from Kotur, another remote village, he says "if we had been lucky to get kind of arrangement in school in childhood, our minds would have been better developed".
Incidentally, the primary schools in both Kako's and Kavita's villages no longer function. More than 200 schools in Dantewada shut down in the years following 2005 after sustained bouts of strife between Maoists and Salwa Judum, a vigilante militia backed by the state. While the state blamed Maoists for bombing school buildings, Maoists claimed they were compelled to do so once security forces started occupying them.
Five years later, the stalemate continues, even though security forces have vacated the schools, and the Maoists have signalled their willingness to allow classes to resume. "The collector could start with rebuilding these schools," says an activist who requested anonymity since he works in collaboration with the government. "He could then do something about fixing rampant corruption, improve the learning environment, sensitise teachers, most of whom come from other regions and treat adivasi students with contempt. This place needs systemic education reform, not quick fixes". Without that, the activist says, the state might come up with a handful of 'trophy students', but the majority will be alienated, and left open for Maoist recruitment.
"I agree my approach is centralised," says the collector, in defence of his plans. "But I believe its best to show results in one area before spreading out". What better way to do that than build an 'Education City' in one place, complete with a polytechnic, special coaching centres, two residential schools, a sports facility, to be funded half way by mining companies, half way by centre's development funds, and to be inaugurated soon by the chief minister himself.
When he is not poring over its blueprint, Choudhary is at the temporary campus, fussing over everything, from the food menu to floor tiles. His favourite hangout is a room called 'Toppers'. Here, four students, with the highest marks, have been given extra space to study in peace.
"Imagine, even if a handful of our kids make it to professional colleges," says Choudhary, flashing a smile, "what an achievement it would be".
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