Part 12 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know← Part 11Part 13 →
Indian Stories of Learning by Doing
I’ve often found myself reflecting on the dichotomy between formal education and the myriad forms of learning that occur outside the classroom. The other day, as I was sipping my morning chai, I watched Lakshmi, a young girl from my neighborhood, expertly handle the morning milk delivery for her mother’s roadside tea stall. It struck me that her understanding of mathematics was not confined to the pages of a textbook. Instead, she was performing complex calculations in her head, deciding how much milk to boil at first, what to reserve for the office rush, and how to manage when the vendor shortchanged her. This wasn’t merely arithmetic; it was a lesson in resource management and adaptability.
Lakshmi’s story is a powerful reminder that learning by doing is not just a slogan borrowed from another culture. It’s a reality that unfolds in the nooks and crannies of India every day. Yet, schools often fail to recognize this kind of competence because it doesn’t fit into the neat boxes they’ve created. Lakshmi’s mother, a hands-on parent, has the wisdom to tell her, “You already know this; the chapter in your book is just a new costume for what you do every day.”
In Kolkata, I met a grandmother who tells the Mahabharata to her grandchild but deliberately makes mistakes in the story. The child, eager to correct her, says, “No, Dadi, Arjun did not say that.” This isn’t just storytelling; it’s an exercise in critical thinking and comprehension. The child is not just a passive listener but an active participant, engaging with the narrative and testing its truth. When the same story becomes a school assignment, complete with rubrics and rules, the argument often dies. The rubric asks for neatness, while the grandmother asked for truth.
In the lanes of India, gully cricket is a classroom without walls or funding. The rules are negotiated on the spot, and the younger children are handicapped in ways the older ones invent. A dispute over a one-tip out is a real-world argument about evidence. The game doesn’t end when a lesson plan says so; it ends when the light fades or an elder needs the space. This is logical reasoning with real consequences, a kind of learning that sticks because it means something beyond the classroom.
The harsh reality is many children don’t have a lane to play in. But the principle travels. Any repeated, rule-bound, child-owned game will do more for judgment than a reasoning workbook used under supervision. If the only game left is a phone game, play it with them and ask how the rules trick you. Then look for a weekly game with bodies. Competence still wants a body.
Now, let’s delve into why these forms of learning are so potent. First, they are inherently engaging. When a child is involved in a task that has real-world significance, the motivation to learn is intrinsic. Lakshmi doesn’t need a reward chart to manage the milk; her reward is the smooth operation of her mother’s business. Similarly, the child correcting the Mahabharata gains the satisfaction of being right, of mastering the story.
Secondly, these activities provide immediate feedback. In a cricket game, a bad decision has instant consequences. You lose a wicket, or you give away a run. There’s no waiting for a grade to come back. This immediacy helps cement learning in a way that delayed feedback cannot.
Moreover, these experiences are deeply contextual. They are not abstract problems set in a vacuum; they are embedded in the real world. This contextual learning helps children understand not just the ‘how’ but the ‘why’ behind what they are doing. It’s the difference between knowing the formula for area and understanding why you need to calculate the area of a piece of land.
However, I must acknowledge the challenges. Our education system is structured around standardized tests and uniform curricula. There’s little room for the kind of personalized, hands-on learning that I’ve described. But this doesn’t mean we should give up hope. Parents can play a crucial role in bridging this gap. By valuing and nurturing the learning that happens outside school, they can reinforce the skills their children are developing in these informal settings.
In my experience as an angel investor, I’ve seen how these early lessons in adaptability and problem-solving pay off in the world of startups. Founders who are comfortable with uncertainty and who have learned to think on their feet often fare better than those who have only excelled in the predictability of a classroom. They remind me of Lakshmi, making quick decisions with limited resources, or the child arguing with a story to find its truth.
So, where does this leave us? I believe it’s time we started recognizing and valuing the myriad forms of learning that happen outside the classroom. We need to stop viewing education as something that only happens within the four walls of a school and start seeing it as a lifelong journey that takes place in every corner of life.
For readers who share this conviction, I recommend exploring some of my other writings on this topic. “Trust Yourself: A Guide for Indian Parents” is an excellent place to start, as is “Everyday India as a Learning Ground.” Both delve deeper into how we can nurture and value the learning that happens in everyday life.
In closing, I want to leave you with a question that I often ask myself: Which ordinary job in your house could a child own, not just watch? It’s a question worth pondering, as the answers could redefine not just how we view education but how we prepare the next generation for the complexities of life.