Education for sale: Middle class contradictions

As I come to know about the protests held recently by furious parents outside several private schools in the national capital over a steep hike in fees — from tuition charges to additional levies for air-conditioned classrooms, I reflect on the contradictions that characterise the life-trajectories of the upwardly mobile aspiring class. Yes, I understand that they have solid reasons to be angry if the fancy private schools where they send their children for education increase the fees arbitrarily, refuse to initiate any negotiation with them and force them to buy overpriced uniforms, notebooks and non-NCERT textbooks. I empathise with a parent when he says that it is exceedingly difficult for a single-income family to pay, say, Rs 50,000 extra per child annually.

Yet, I can’t escape from asking a counter-question to these angry parents: Were they not aware that their decision to send their children to these fancy private schools was like giving their consent to the marketisation and commodification of education? And, isn’t it a fact that many of us who belong to this class have never bothered to put pressure on the government so that our government-aided schools become truly well equipped to provide good quality education to our children?

In fact, every morning when I see them — doctors, lawyers, engineers, civil servants, professors and other professionals — waiting with their children for the air-conditioned school buses to pick them up, I see yet another harsh reality that characterises this highly unequal/asymmetrical country: malnourished children with torn clothes walking towards nearby municipality schools.

Seldom do these two worlds meet. In fact, we didn’t want this merger. We didn’t fight for a shared and well-functioning public domain. Instead, we began to separate ourselves from everything that is ‘public’. From public transportation to our own private cars or from government hospitals to private nursing homes. We separated ourselves from the struggles of the poor, the subaltern and the lower middle class.

The result is the growing withdrawal of the state from all socially meaningful welfare practices. And hence, it looks somewhat hypocritical if we begin to cry that the annual tuition fee of a well-known private school in New Delhi is Rs 2 lakh, excluding additional charges like registration, development, exam fees and transportation. It is like thinking that a fancy corporate hospital will charge less if you and I cry, and state the tales of our financial difficulties!

It is, indeed, a matter of concern that our public schools, colleges and universities are declining fast and there is a mushrooming growth of private enterprises. Possibly, my generation was somewhat lucky. Yes, I was a student of a Bengali-medium government school in West Bengal. Well, in our school, we didn’t speak English fluently; we didn’t possess what this generation values as appropriate ‘cultural capital’: a set of symbols and practices that distinguish one from everything that is ‘ordinary’.

And yet, I have no hesitation in saying that we found the company of reasonably good teachers and our academic skills were quite satisfactory. Moreover, in this government school, I experienced the ecstasy of diversity and plurality. My friends belonged to different castes, classes and religions. There was no segregation between the rich and the poor. In fact, those who are protesting against the fee hike in front of private schools will be surprised to know that when I was writing my board examination in 1974, the tuition fee was merely Rs 5 per month!

Possibly, the great vision of “common schools" that distinguished the recommendations of the Kothari Commission of Education, 1966, was still alive. India was poor; but then, the logic of market fundamentalism implicit in the neoliberal doctrine of ‘efficiency’ and ‘growth’ was not so distinctively visible. From government schools to inclusive and affordable public universities, our journey, even though not perfect, taught us that without some sort of socialist/welfare policies, India could not overcome the curse of inequality and exploitation and move towards a democratic and egalitarian nation.

However, in our times, the glitz of neoliberal market fundamentalism seems to have seduced people like us. No wonder, we do not demand anything substantial from the government. Instead, we have taken it for granted that almost everything — be it education, health and even fresh air – is a commodity. And, if you and I have the money, we can buy it. This neoliberal faith in private solutions to public issues is so deep that we have forgotten to demand anything substantial from the government. Accept our contradictions. We want these education shops to reduce the price of packaged/commodified education.

However, we refuse to come to the street and demand from the government that the taxes we pay have to be used properly so that we could find at least affordable, inclusive and good quality public schools, public universities and public hospitals.

It is this indifference to our shared public concerns that has led to a situation in which we see the growing decline of all government-aided schools, colleges and universities. Take, for instance, my own school that once enchanted me. Today, as I visit this government school, I notice the all-pervading decay — empty classrooms, poor enrolment and demoralised teachers. And I see the love affair of the middle class with fancy private schools and branded coaching centres. The message is clear: Education is not your right; it is a commodity in the marketplace you have to buy; and if you don’t have the required money, forget it!

Can people like us overcome these contradictions, come to the street, resist the ugly commodification of education and pressure the government to nurture affordable, inclusive and good quality public schools and universities?

Avijit Pathak is a sociologist.

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