de facto family

I was multitasking. While squeezed in the middle of fifteen boisterous 10th graders singing along to a Ke$ha song, I was gripping onto the handles of seat in front of me and taking music requests for my iPod. As our van skirted around the rickshaws, immobile cows, and 13-year-old boys on motorcycles, and through the congested streets of Hosur, I was beginning to forget that these students were not typical, carefree teenagers listening to pop music. That fleeting lapse was interrupted, however, when our van finally pulled in near the restaurant.

It was a Thursday, and the Shanti Bhavan 10th grade class was being treated to a special dinner in the city by Rahul, a volunteer teacher, before his departure the following week. The kids decided they wanted to buy Rahul a thank-you gift while he visited the ATM, so I went with the students to pick one out. As I followed the group into a grocery store and heard a girl in the front ask the cashier if they “keep gifts,” their lack of experience in areas outside the rural villages became apparent. At the restaurant a short while later, a student informed me that it was his first time eating at such a “fancy” dining place. It wasn’t that fancy.

On the surface, the students appear to be similar to those of any other country, in spite of their family circumstances. Their interests, topics of conversation, and daily activities are more or less the same. Upon getting to know them, however, you begin to appreciate the little things that set them apart. The way in which they take care of one another is something I have never witnessed among other teenagers I have encountered. During the trip to Hosur, one of the girls, Meena, grew increasingly ill as the evening progressed, and we realized she had a fever. In the van returning to the school, the girls laid her down across their laps so she could sleep. One girl removed the scarf from her neck, soaked it with cool water from her jug and pressed it against Meena’s forehead. All the students seemed concerned and made sure she was looked after once we returned to the school. More than just classmates, these children behave like a family.

I should mention the absence of internet access at the school. (I write in this blog on the weekends, when the volunteers take a routine trip to Bangalore to spend time communicating with the outside world.) It is difficult to comprehend growing up during the Information Age without daily access to our most coveted source of news, entertainment, and social networking. The volunteer coordinators have an internet card that is used solely for reading news, and every day we share top worldwide stories with the students to ensure that they are updated on current events. While contemplating my own feelings of internet withdrawal, I realized that because these kids live in an upper-class environment, and yet still have not grown accustomed to using the internet regularly, they are unique. A dearth of digital distractions means they spend more time literally in each other’s company. Perhaps this quality time with one another facilitated their camaraderie. Some things are just better old school.