diverse and complicated nature of the task to be accomplished, to
utilize so far as possible all existing agencies, and to plan a
thorough and scientific scheme embracing all classes. The development
of this scheme must be one of slow and patient labour. No great
social scheme which is to have permanent results can be enforced in a
revolutionary or sudden way, and least of all where prejudice has to be
overcome, where public opinion must be influenced, and where possibly
the passing of generations and the influence of heredity are needed
for its fruition. In a sense the very backwardness of the province
is its opportunity. The possibility before it of laying foundations
on sound educational principles, of using the experience gained by
other provinces in the adaptation of certain types of institutions to
local conditions, of surveying the whole field without haste, and of
making a systematic effort to raise all classes and all sections of the
population, augurs well for the future standing of the province, and
may produce a better type of education than that which has developed
more quickly and more sporadically elsewhere.
A sketch of the present situation must naturally take as its centre
the work of this Committee, the result of its survey of the classes
affected, its utilization of existing agencies, its constructive work,
and the practicable character of its aims.
What, then, of the actual girls to be educated? The classes affected
are many and diverse, education and rank often varying in inverse
proportion; the educational and the social problems are here again
so closely interwoven that the holding of parda parties has a very
definite relation to the statistics of school attendance. The Indian
Christians, of whom there are over 66,000, mostly living in the
Khasi and Jaintia Hills are naturally keenly eager for education,
and contribute considerably to the supply of teachers. About the
non-Christians it is impossible to generalize.[63] From the young
Begum[64] directly descended from one of the Moslem invaders to the
child of some peasant woman, who grudges her from the work of the field
to the seemingly profitless village school, is a far cry, and the gamut
of possibilities lies between. Here is a high-born Moslem girl, whose
male relatives hold University degrees and Government appointments,
and who will allow a certain advance to their women-folk, but no more.
For instance, an English teacher may be admitted for a few hours a
day, or if the family be wealthy and of sufficient rank, an English
governess may be secured to devote her whole time to the pupils. Here
is another still so tied by conservatism that she may not see English
ladies or learn of modern thought. Her male relatives may give her
the smattering of Koranic lore which is necessary for religion. The
Mohammedan women of the upper class can nearly all read Urdu, and are
clever with their needles. Here is a girl of the Brāhma-Samāj, supposed
to be free, and yet one might almost say shy of her freedom, with every
opportunity to take the higher education which would fit her for social
influence, she yet ceases her studies when only some three standards
beyond her Hindu sister. Another girl with the same up-bringing has
sufficient strength and determination to persevere through the whole
course and finish with Normal training or University honours. There
is a strong demand for education up to a certain stage also among the
Brahmans, Kayasths,[65] and Baidyas,[66] a demand which is, however,
limited to the few years before the _parda_ is strictly drawn, an
event which happens between the ages of eight and eleven. Then there
are the lower class Mohammedans, who are anxious only for Koranic
education, the Namasudras,[67] whose intellect is at so low a level
that a whole term may be spent in acquiring a single letter of the
alphabet, and the bill tribes where _parda_ is non-existent, and
where in certain cases the women are more literate than the men. The
whole enumeration shows how very diverse and complex are the classes
for whom education must be planned.
Passing to the agencies at work, there have been in the more advanced
portions of the province, apart from Government and the municipalities,
spontaneous efforts to educate girls. Some of the present village
schools are of this indigenous type, and are kept possibly by an
elderly Hindu pandit and his wife, where little girls are collected
for a few hours daily--not stated hours--and drone over Bengali books
of an archaic type, in an ill-ventilated room. The result of this
education may be the ability to recite certain shlokas[68] and to check
a marketing account, or merely the prestige in the marriage market of
having been to school. Where it is possible to improve schools of this
type or standard, they fall into the general scheme, but as a rule
they are “passed by on the other side.” The Mahakali Patshala,[69]
started in 1907 at Mymensingh, represents again spontaneous effort
of a more advanced type, and is an attempt to give a modern and
strictly religious education on Hindu lines. This institution is much
more advanced than the parent Patshala, described on page 113. The
Mohammedan community have been more backward in organizing schools; a
circular sent out by a Sub-Committee on behalf of the Government to
various Mohammedan associations produced very few replies, including
the following: “But it is not proper time for starting Mohammedan
female education, as the people are not willing to have their girls
educated.” There is, however, a certain number of Muktabs or Koranic
schools, where girls are taught what is necessary for religion, and in
some cases a little secular knowledge.
The most important missionary agencies in the province are the Baptists
from Australia, New Zealand, America, and England, and the Welsh
Presbyterians, all of whom are carrying on good educational work.
The Sisters of the Oxford Mission have also entered the field more
recently. Taken as a whole the missionary contribution is, however,
much smaller than in other provinces. The best vernacular school for
girls in Dacca is that which has a hostel attached of the English
Baptist Mission, and the training of teachers at Nowgong in the hill
districts is proving specially useful to Government. This can be
better considered later in relation to the hill districts as a whole.
The mission schools are a welcome addition to the educational scheme,
and it is satisfactory to note the cordial relations and co-operation
between their organizers and the Government officials. As regards their
extension, if new schools were contemplated in a town or district where
a good accessible school already existed, grants would probably not
be given, but as the field is practically unlimited, the question is
merely academic.
Thus the constructive policy of the Government Committee[70] embraces
these existing agencies and all schools entirely under public control,
whether municipal or directly under Government. The Committee aims
at the ideal of a Primary school in every village, in more populous
centres the raising of a certain number of these to schools of a
rather better type, the establishment of a Government school (Middle
or Anglo-Vernacular) in the headquarters of every division, the warm
encouragement of all private Middle schools, and the development of
some definite system of _parda_ instruction which could reach the
higher and stricter classes. The system is completed by three existent
High schools. Taking these different stages in order we must first
consider the Primary schools.
There were in 1909, 4501 Primary schools in the whole Province, an
increase of about 800 on the preceding year. Assam and the Surma
Valley are scantily provided. The establishment of a sound system of
Primary schools is naturally the chief aim, but its attainment depends
on the development of a thoroughly efficient staff of teachers. The
word “primary” covers a multitude of sins, and is very varied in its
application. Here, for instance, is a school of the aided type in a
village of over 6000 inhabitants. The little girls are crushed together
on ill-constructed benches in an ill-ventilated room, agonizing in
different degrees of shyness under the thrilling ordeal of a visitor.
All of them are Hindus, for the Mohammedans do not go to school in this
village. Apparently there is scarcely any system of classification
except for the broad distinction of “little” and “less.” All are under
eleven years of age and, according to the village custom, have walked
to school in charge of the school servant. The school is supposed to
teach up to Standard III, but every girl who leaves able to read and
write, and not much injured in health from sitting daily for five hours
in a cramped position, may consider herself lucky. The attempts of
itinerant Sub-Inspectors at teaching the venerable pandit how to teach,
have fallen on unscathed shoulders, yet there is a certain pathos in
the owl-like glance with which he fixes the two Sub-Inspectors, who
answer all the visitor’s questions without the least reference to him.
For the pandit knows that his day is done--a new school is in process
of erection, and an energetic Sub-Divisional Officer is on the outlook
for a trained schoolmistress. With the passing of the pandit will go
much of the quaintness of the Indian school, which sentimentally may
be regretted, but which must yield place to the modern demand for
efficiency. It is refreshing to turn to a school of the new order, an
urban one. The day is wet, so only twenty-five out of forty pupils
are present, Hindus chiefly, of the Kayasth caste. The three lowest
classes are happily seated on matting with a tiny desk in front; the
older ones are still swinging their feet on too high a bench--but what
good is there in having Inspectresses if there is nothing to improve?
A tidy time-table on the wall shows the rotation of lessons. There are
shells for arithmetic, maps and object-lesson sheets, there is space
for drill or breathing exercises at the end of every hour, there are
neat specimens of sewing (not perennial ones which have survived many
an inspection) and above all, there is a happy smiling mistress, whose
personality inspires new ideals and new thoughts. A bright little
maiden of eleven in a blue and gold sari, who gaily translates an Urdu
conversation into Bengali, has designs on a scholarship for the Eden
High School, and perhaps some day she, too, may be an “Ustani”[71]
as wondrous wise as her mistress. This is the bright side of things,
but it shows the possibilities which lie under dry statistics. The
recent report of 1910 on Primary schools in the town of Dacca shows
an increase of about 200 girls in one year. Of the sixteen schools,
twelve are now provided with mistresses and the general progress is
satisfactory, although there are still many difficulties to overcome,
especially if the proportional increase in the number of pupils
exceeds, as is probable, that of the trained teachers available, and
proper space is lacking. The problem in Dacca is typical of the urban
problem throughout. Primary education in the hill districts is of a
different type.
The Middle Schools, partly English and partly only vernacular, are some
twenty in number, varying in type from a long established school such
as the Alexandra Girls’ School at Mymensingh, with ten teachers, and a
Head-mistress from the Isabella Thoburn College,[72] to one which has
only six scholars beyond the Primary stage and one mistress, but which
must be raised in standard and type for the sake of the district. The
generosity of the native landowners is to be noted in connection with
these schools; in two cases a whole new building and site have been
acquired in this way.
[Illustration: A High School Class, Eastern Bengal]
All roads lead to Mecca, and all pursuit of higher education in Eastern
Bengal tends to the Eden Girls’ High School, Dacca, where, under the
supervision of Miss Lena Sorabji, the portals of Calcutta University
are successfully reached. This school is the Model High School for the
province, the two others at Chittagong and Mymensingh are not as yet
so efficiently staffed or equipped, though that at Chittagong holds
its own at the Matriculation examination. There are some two hundred
girls in the Eden High School, mostly Hindu, with a fair proportion of
Brāhma-Samāj and Mohammedan girls, including also a few Christians. The
curriculum is that of a first-class English High school in its relation
to the Matriculation subjects. In the lower classes the scientific
principles of education are in full vogue, story and group method,
with an excellent Kindergarten apparatus. The teachers are mostly
Indian with three Anglo-Indians, and there is also a very efficient
music mistress. Moral instruction is given, and there is throughout an
excellent tone. It is possible to attend the school and keep strict
_parda_, a young Begum has recently been assigned to it by the
Court of Wards in order to complete her education. A very important
feature of the school is the Training department, in which teachers
are trained for the Bengali-speaking parts of the province. (Assamese
teachers are trained at Nowgong and the Hill Districts in Shillong.)
Training is given free on condition of teaching in a Government school
for two years thereafter. There is both an English and a Vernacular
course, and the effect of the latter can be seen in such schools
as the Primary school sketched above. There are three students at
present in the English department, and twenty-two in the Vernacular.
Any girls passing the Matriculation examination from here are certain
of Government scholarships, or “stipends” as they are called, to the
University of Calcutta. The only drawback at present is the lack of
space, but plans are already definitely formed, and a site secured for
new buildings, which will ultimately include a College department.
But when all is said, it is only an infinitesimal fraction of the
female community which is touched by the Middle and High schools.
The fourth sphere of the Committee’s work, the organizing of a
definite system of _parda_ instruction, is therefore in some ways
the most important. Many important and far-reaching influences are
at work behind the veil, and it is here, too, that the influence of
the Education Committee must be felt. A comparison of the numbers
attending Primary schools (84,798) with those attending High and
Middle schools (1846), shows how limited is the school period for the
average girl. The _parda_ instruction to a certain extent supplements
the education of those children who are withdrawn for marriage at
about ten years of age. On the other hand, as the number of girls of
school age at school is only 3%, a certain amount of this work is
amongst the absolutely illiterate older women, though the minimum
age of ten prevents overlapping with the Primary schools. A further
aim is to create a more friendly atmosphere in the zenanas towards
the whole question of education. In some cases it is an immediately
fruitful work, in others a sowing of seed for the future. There are
now some 600 girls and women under instruction of this type in seven
different towns, the classes in Dacca being most fully developed. Here
there are four governesses at work, each with six centres to teach.
Two of them are Mohammedans, one Brāhma-Samāj, and one Christian, the
last under missionary superintendence. The education given is of the
simplest type, including, however, in some cases drawing, painting,
history, and geography. Indeed when the circumstances are taken into
consideration it could hardly be otherwise; the classes are held in the
houses of progressive men, rich or poor, and consist as a rule solely
of the women of the household and their immediate neighbours, the
numbers varying from six to about twenty. The ages of the pupils vary
from eight to fifty, all are at different stages, all are irregular in
attendance, many are accompanied by babies, and the class generally
ends in individual instruction. Yet progress is being made, and it is
good to see the group of daintily dressed women awaiting the arrival
of the teacher who forms their link with the outer world. A very great
deal depends on her personality and skill in overcoming prejudice. One
of the teachers is a Mohammedan lady of good position, the wife of a
pleader; she drives in strict _parda_ to and from her work, and has
naturally inspired other strict Mohammedans with confidence in the
scheme. Recently an English governess has begun work in Dacca under the
Committee, but in her case there is a binding fee of five rupees for
every family who employs her. The system is one which is peculiarly
adapted to Eastern Bengal with its strict _parda_ customs, and though
expensive to Government,[73] is in the meantime more than worth while
in its indirect influence in breaking down prejudice and supplementing
the whole system of instruction.
Education in the Hill Districts reveals a somewhat different problem.
There is no _parda_, co-education is frequent, and suits the
customs of the people. A Lushai writer dealing with this says: “The
men and women are all on the same footing, except in some cases,
where the women are master.” In the hill tracts of Assam, some 2551
girls are studying in boys’ schools and 701 in separate girls’
schools, practically all of the latter and a large proportion of the
former are worked by the missions, which are doing excellent service
to education. The schools are much appreciated, and the Government
grant of 4022 rupees to the mission schools is almost equalled by the
contributions of the people themselves. Special arrangements are being
made by Government with the American Baptist Mission at Nowgong for
the training of Government teachers in the Mission Training School.
In some parts education is absolutely at a standstill; for example,
in the Mikir hills, “female education is supposed to have perished
fifteen years ago with the death of its only representative, a young
girl of Nowgong!” In Chittagong Hill District the opposition is that of
a wild uncivilized people. A boarding-school is the only possibility,
but that seems too terrible! The parents are half-civilized, and will
send a child for one month and withdraw her the next; the children,
moreover, have their own way. “If the parents say their girl shall go
to school, and she says ‘I will not,’ she does not go.” There are at
present seven precious pupils in the Mission Girls’ school at Chandra
Ghona. In Tippera there is much opposition. Twenty-five girls are,
however, reported in three mission schools in the latter district. An
interesting account of indigenous schools comes from a lady missionary
working in one of the hill districts: “There are some small Primary
independent village schools taught by Hindu men or women voluntarily.
Some of these receive Government aid, and some do not. The parents of
the scholars contribute a little towards the teacher’s support, and
supply the school-house. It is generally believed that the visits of
a missionary to such schools lend prestige to them, and the children
are encouraged to attend by the small rewards given by the missionary
for attendance and Scripture knowledge. Hence such scholars invariably
welcome regular visits.” The main problems are those of co-education,
the training of teachers, and the multiplicity of dialects. Steps are
also being taken to develop weaving and local industries in many parts
for the less advanced tribes.
Such in brief outline is the Government policy for female education.
How far is it a living reality? “The moment imagination has gone out of
your Asiatic policy, your Empire will divide and decay.”[74] How far is
there imagination in the educational policy? How far is it magnetic,
flexible, and inspiring? A policy, of necessity, is reflected by the
persons who administer it, the inspectorate and teaching staffs, the
organizing Committee, and the general social attitude of the community.
The task of the Inspectorate is no easy one, and the word calls up
visions of many successive nights spent in bullock carts, in trains,
and on horseback to reach the inaccessible parts of an inaccessible
province, a multitude of detail, and little time to relate it
consciously to the underlying principles. To the casual onlooker taking
into account the general social conditions of Indian life, it hardly
seems work which a woman should do, and yet it is work which must be
done by women. Indian girls can only be well taught by women, and this
necessitates a female Inspectorate at least for the upper grades.
From 1908 to 1911 there was only one Inspectress in the province, and
in 1909 two assistant Inspectresses were appointed; an additional
appointment has, however, recently been made for the Chittagong and
Surma Valley Districts. A further increase would greatly facilitate
the development of the work, and would probably repay in efficiency
the extra expense. There is a great deal written and said about the
denationalizing influence of education, and the need for bringing our
system into touch with Indian thought and Indian life. More especially
in the present case, when a new policy is being shaped, there is need
for flexibility in the system and an Inspectorate closely in touch with
the inner side of Indian home life. What should an Indian girl know?
What will fit her best to hold aright her true place; what will render
her happier and more intelligent, retaining her Sita-like devotion and
her gentle bearing? The planning of a curriculum and teacher’s manual
in relation to this aim is no easy task, and it remains to be seen
whether the new manuals, the work of the first Inspectress, will have
fulfilled these demands. Some women are born teachers, and some have
teaching thrust upon them. In India the old ideal of teaching is that
of a vocation; the bread of life is given freely by those who have to
those who have not. Modern conditions have of necessity modified this
ideal to a certain extent, but its spirit is still needed. The great
scarcity of women teachers, and consequent certainty of employment,
tends to lower the standard of character and efficiency. The teacher
who will only do her own “kām,”[75] and not lend a helping hand to
others, who is ever listening for the stroke of the clock, who is quick
to take offence and ill to conciliate, is known in this province as
elsewhere. The lack of a common religious basis as a ground of appeal
is undoubtedly felt; the establishment of Teacher’s Associations in
the urban centres, and, where possible, of the Young Women’s Christian
Association Teachers Union, might be useful. It is to be regretted
that very few of the teachers are not drawn from the families of upper
class; the work done by one of the Mohammedan governesses in Dacca
is an evidence of what can be accomplished in this way even without
scientific training. There are, however, some splendid Indian women
teachers, contact with whom is an inspiration, and it is to be hoped
that the influence of the training classes in the Eden High School at
Nowgong and at Shillong may gradually raise the general tone. Here, as
in Burma, is the great means of counteracting anglicizing influences;
education is the communication of personality, and the ideal Indian
school of the future must have Indian teachers. The instilling of
the principles of educational science and of true culture in Indian
teachers, until these are no longer slavishly reproduced but lived
and worked out in relation to Indian environment, is the task of the
Western educator.