Education 2014

2 3Focus on: Open Day, British International School Yangon

Class divide

by Zon Pann [email protected]

THE education system in Myanmar has long placed emphasis on strict memorisation and rigorous

studying of facts. Three students now studying in Bangkok, however, recently told The Myanmar Times that this model doesn’t always serve students well when pursuing advanced degrees elsewhere.

Since 2013, Ma Mya Mya Thet has been taking a one-year-and-five-month Master of Arts course in management and policy at the National Institute of Development Administration in Bangkok, Thailand, courtesy of a postgrad scholarship provided by the Thailand International Development Cooperation Agency (TICA).

Her experience highlights the anxiety faced by many Myanmar students when it comes to teacher interactions in the classroom, at home or abroad.

“My worst fear in the class is to ask questions and to be asked,” Ma Mya Mya Thet said in March following a TICA press conference at the Riva Surya Hotel about scholarships for Myanmar students.

“It takes time for me to accustom myself to questioning the teachers in the class because we are not in the habit of asking questions,” said Ma Mya Mya Thet, who earned her bachelor degree in mechanical engineering from Pyay Government Technology College, then worked as a vice director at the Department of

Labour under the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Social Security.

“We used to learn by heart and take exams from what we memorised.”

Now, she said, she’s working hard to adjust to a more open, dialogue-based classroom.

“I try to get into the habit of asking questions if I don’t understand something. The pedagogy here encourages me to research and think for myself. It is a big difference,” she said.

Ma Mya Mya Thet said Myanmar students on the whole are more motivated and disciplined than their foreign counterparts, and study very hard, with a serious attitude. They’re also better at writing in English than their Thai students, perhaps as a result of their diligent study habits.

But she said Myanmar students

tend to be weaker in English speaking, “because we don’t normally use the English language in the workplace.” That problem is compounded by the fact that they’re not used to raising their voices with confidence in the classroom.

That puts Myanmar students at a disadvantage when they’re judged according to different criteria than at home.

Another Myanmar foreign study student, Ko Myo Thiha Kyaw, earned his bachelor degree from the University of Agriculture and he is now studying at Mae Fah Luang University in Chaing Rai, Thailand, with a scholarship for the Technology Management of Agricultural Production program.

“In Myanmar, school examinations just test the students’ memory on how much they can learn by heart and then judge them by paper results alone. Here [in Thailand], the examinations test students’ knowledge and judge by how well they can participate in discussions with teachers, how well they can do assignments,” he said. “Here the teachers don’t spoon-feed us [with printed sheets of facts] but help us to try ourselves.”

He added that the university’s well-stocked library is also a helpful learning resource, as are its more technologically advanced facilities. All students interviewed for this article commented on the extensive facilities available to them now which they were not used to having at home.

In 2013, education spending in Myanmar was equal to 5.43 percent of the national budget. In Thailand, that number is 20.6pc.

While Myanmar’s education budget increased to 6pc this year – a welcome move, though still lowest among ASEAN countries – some of the biggest frustrations come down to factors money alone can’t buy.

In 2012, University Teachers Associations were formed across Myanmar to give collective voice to classroom concerns, and a September 2013 survey conducted in Yangon highlighted significant discontent with the way teaching was being carried out.

“About 1317 out of 3336 students and parents who took part in the survey agreed teachers should have more freedom in drawing up the curriculum, in pedagogy and in the governance of schools and university,” said U Than Htike Aung, assistant history lecturer at East Yangon University.

As it stands, he said, the current system mitigates against achieving the open learning environment students reported experiencing in Thailand – and he added that it’s not teachers who are to blame.

“Teachers don’t have freedom of choice,” U Than Htike said. “They have to teach as instructed even

though they know about pedagogy, and the examination system doesn’t help impart a great deal of knowledge to the students. So the teachers are unhappy in the classroom and the classroom doesn’t create the conditions whereby the student is motivated to learn.”

He said overcrowding – not enough teachers to facilitate one-on-one interaction – is one factor preventing a more student-centred approach.

“The proportion of teachers to students in the colleges and schools has changed dramatically over the years. Only a small number of

teachers in the college teach hordes of students,.”

The system, he said, falls back, by necessity, on “parrot-learning” – learning by heart which is more expedient but ultimately less rewarding for teachers and students.

“Teachers who mark exam papers are instructed to give marks for straight answers,” he said. “If the student provides a different answer that is still correct, he loses marks. The Department of Higher Education monitors the marking of exam papers. Therefore, teachers lose freedom and the bad system persists,” he said.

There are tentative moves under way to shift the nation’s education model to one that is more interactive and flexible. Teacher training for the child-centred approach, or CCA, is being phased in first at the primary levels, beginning with 93 townships in 2012 and 85 townships in 2013, and 82 townships in both 2014 and 2015.

Early testing, however, shows teachers are “very weak” in asking questions to students, CCA working group member Naw Joanna Doe told The Myanmar Times in January.

Teacher Daw Ei Ei Khine from Basic Education High School 4 Ahlone said teachers are finding the new model a struggle. “We don’t have enough time to teach students with this method because they aren’t

used to being asked these kinds of questions.”

U Than Htike Aung estimated reform of the education system will take “10 to 15 years” – in other words, an entire generation of students.

One factor that may be limiting a more open classroom model is something Myanmar society takes great pride in: respect for superiors.

According to Buddhism, Myanmar’s dominant religion, teachers are part of the five infinite venerables: Buddha, the dhamma (teachings), the sangha (monks), parents and teachers.

“[Students] normally don’t question teachers’ ideas. They feel disrespectful,” U Than Htike Aung said.

“When they don’t question and challenge our knowledge, they can’t make progress and the teachers also can’t learn a new thing.”

The challenge for education – and for society as a whole – is how to retain respectful atmosphere while allowing creative thinking and problem-solving to flourish.

“Students don’t want to come to the classroom when universities don’t present a cheerful busy atmosphere. Most students fail to enjoy ‘campus life’,” he said.

This contrasts starkly with the experiences of Ma Khin Nwe Oo, now pursuing postgraduate study in computer science at Assumption University in Bangkok.

“The university is quite green – it is a pleasant studying environment, stimulating the desire to study in the campus. We have free and easy access to the internet, and the library stocks a variety of books we need, which makes a big difference to our research,” Ma Khin Nwe Oo said.

Facilities aside, she agreed that the most significant difference in the approach of the two countries was the model of how learning should happen.

“The university [in Bangkok] doesn’t encourage students to learn

by heart. They test the students on knowledge they’ve been learning and reading,” she said.

“The student can benefit as much as the effort he or she makes.”

While all students studying abroad who were consulted for this article expressed excitement about their new surroundings, none placed any blame on their past teachers, only the models under which they must work.

Ko Myo Thiha Kyaw, who said his lack of experience with high-tech lab equipment made it difficult to get a handle on using them abroad, was quick to praise his former teachers.

“Teachers from the University of Agriculture are strong, systematic and offer practical experience,” he said.

Ma Mya Mya Thet also did not blame her teachers, but said the wider culture would need to change for the country to keep up with others in development.

“When I was working in Myanmar, people in the workplace spent hours on chatting when they didn’t have much work. I don’t think the gap between Myanmar students and international students will widen if they can spend enough time on reading,” Ma Mya Mya Thet added.

That fear of falling behind, she said, prompted her to “take a risk” by studying abroad.

“I wanted to study overseas because we would lag far behind other people when we apply for a higher position. Most students from middle-class families couldn’t afford to study abroad. I am fortunate for getting a scholarship to gain experience of studying abroad,” she said.

The scholarship she earned from TICA comes at the Myanmar government’s request and is among those available to officers serving in various departments. TICA covers the cost of the program – an estimated K10 million – plus accommodation, and offers 7000 baht as a monthly stipend to cover living expenses.

She said leaving Myanmar to study abroad was the “right decision”, but also said she won’t be part of the so-called brain drain, in which the country’s best and brightest leave for better education – and careers – and do not return.

“I love to work at governmental departments,” Ma Mya Mya Thet said. “I will work again there when I complete the course.”

Studying in Bangkok, an unnamed postgraduate student, Ma Mya Mya Thet, Ma Khin Nwe Oo, Ma Khin Nyein Nyein Hlaing pose for a photograph at Riva Surya Hotel in March. Photo: Zon Pann Pwint

Students studying abroad say it’s sometimes a toss-up to decide which is more delicate to handle: high-tech scientific equipment or question-and-answer sessions in the classroom

6%Education spending as percent of budget, versus 20.6pc in Thailand

‘Teachers who mark exam papers are instructed to give marks for straight answers. If the student provides a different answer that

is still correct, he loses marks’- U Than Htike Aung, assistant history lecturer, East Yangon University

ON May 24, children and their parents visited the newest international school to open in Yangon, meeting teachers and staff and learning about the British International School Yangon (BISY)

and what it will offer upon opening this August. BISY is part of a worldwide group of schools run by

the British Schools Foundation, with branches in Moscow, Kuala Lumpur, Sao Paulo, Manila, Nanjing, Marbella, Pamplona, Tashkent and Kiev.

The Yangon campus will initially cater to students from pre-nursery to primary (ages 2 to 11). The school says classes will be taught by British nationals educated at UK universities and will follow the UK curriculum – the first international school in Myanmar to do so.

“Rather than focusing on preparing for tests,” its prospectus says, “[school staff] believe a broad and vibrant curriculum creates the enthusiasm for learning that will lead to success. Good examination results simply follow.” BSF states 95 percent of its students come in at or above the UK average.

The school also promises Myanmar language and culture will be a “major element” of its local curriculum, to “prepare children for Myanmar university should they choose this route in their further education”. – Wade Guyitt

2 Voices from abroad Students studying overseas reflect on what it’s taught them about school at home

3 Focus on: British International School Yangon A first look inside the newest international school to open in town

4 Special trips for top achievers Plus, thoughts on learning English, and why international students can’t switch out

6 History in the making Yangon University’s reopening is a welcome new chapter for a storied institution

7 How school used to be Memories of a Mandalay convent school; plus, paying respect to teachers

8-9 In a different tongue How ethnic groups are struggling to be taught in their own languages

10 The art and science of bringing kids up right A closer look at the BrainWorks model

11 Monastic memories A Myanmar Times reporter tells about life inside the monastic school system

The issue at hand…

Contributors Zon Pann Pwint, Wade Guyitt, Myo Lwin, Shwe Yee Saw Myint, Aung Thuya, Kyay Mohn Win, Khin Su Wai, Ei Ei Thu, Sandar Lwin, Wa Lone, Ei Ei Toe Lwin, Ye Mon, Aung Shin

Editor Myo Lwin, Wade Guyitt

Sub editor Mya Kay Khine Soe

Photography Zon Pann Pwint, Thiri Lu, Khin Su Wai, Yu Yu, Kaung Htet, Thiha Kyaw

Cover photos Staff, Kaung Htet

Cover design Ko Htway

Page layout Ko Khin Zaw

For feedback and enquiries, please contact [email protected], [email protected]

Photos: Thiri Lu

4

A revived youth program helps identify the leaders of tomorrow

From smart to outstandingby kyay mohn [email protected]

I WILL try my best to become an outstanding student… I will try to be a doctor… I also aim to become a good soldier...”

You may be hearing those old song lyrics more often these days.

From seventh to 10th standard, the government used to require students to sit exams that tested their general knowledge and physical fitness. At least one outstanding student from each district, region or state would be sent on a special excursion in Ngapali or Pyin Oo Lwin. The program started in 1964, shortly after General Ne Win’s takeover, and stopped in 1987.

Many young people once dreamed of being selected as an outstanding student. State-level honours brought pride for your school and your hometown. But post-1987, students only learned about these role-model students in books, songs and stories told by elders.

But now the program is back. In the 2012-2013 academic year, the Ministry of Education started a new program of excursions for outstanding students in eighth to 10th standards.

Mg Thant Nay Su was among the first chosen. But not even the highest matriculation exam marks in the country got him a guaranteed spot.

“I didn’t know I’d have to sit an exam for outstanding students,” said Mg Thant Nay Su. “I found out one month before. I had to sit exams at the township and district levels.”

Two boys and two girls were selected from each district, though some chose one boy and one girl only.

“We were sent around Ngwe Saung and Pathein for an excursion,”

he remembered. “A hotelier and a computer expert gave talks about their businesses and other things. At night, games and entertainments were planned for us. Our trip was nine days: five days in Ngwe Saung and four days in Nay Pyi Taw,” he said.

“Everything went smoothly except for being tired because we had activities every day. We made new friends.”

Mg Thant Nay Su said he’d love to go again, but now that he’s a first-year student at the University of Medicine in Mandalay, he’s no longer eligible.

He first heard about the outstanding student program from his aunt, who was selected in her third year of university in 1976.

White hat, light blue shirt, green scarf, dark blue trousers and white canvas shoes: That was the uniform of an outstanding student then, and it hasn’t changed much over the past 40 years. Former outstanding students are sure to feel nostalgia when they see the current crop in the news.

Daw Nu Nu Si, a professor

in Kyaukse University’s physics department, is a former outstanding student. Although she doesn’t remember specifics, she recalls it as a fun time with new friends from around the country.

“When I was selected, it was the 13th year of the program. So everything was all set for us. Booklets were handed out before we reached the camp. They told us what we’d be doing on each day, what kind of food would be served and so on,” she said.

“Students had to do physical exercise in the morning. Then they were sent to local businesses and factories. At night, they participated in entertainment programs and campfire festivities. Going on an excursion gave us the chance to widen our networks. We still remember each other when we bump into one another.”

In Mg Thant Nay Su’s year, he said, students faced some inconveniences in accommodation and boarding because it was the inaugural year. For students from the 2013-2014 academic year, things are more convenient.

“There are more places to go on excursion now, so the new students are luckier than we were,” he said.

The excursion leads students to rely on themselves and get along with others, he said.

U Win Myint was selected for the program in 1966. He’s still proud of having represented his district of Minbu, Magwe Region, and his clearest memory of the time is of a dinner that was hosted by the Minister for Education at Myanmar Radio and Television in Yangon.

“After the selections, the students’ names were announced on the radio and in the paper. It was a chance for the student, their school and their parents to be proud. It gave students the encouragement to work harder than ever in the future.”

“Most of the outstanding students 50 years ago chose to become government officers when they got their degree. So [encouraging] outstanding students means producing young people who will benefit the region as well as the country,” said U Win Myint, who worked as a government staffer for 15 years.

“My aunt showed me her record book, certificate and brooch when I had to sit for the exam,” Mg Thant Nay Su said. “She still keeps them carefully. It was a kind of encouragement for my exam.”

Those who came both too late and too early to benefit from the program may not have such happy memories to recall. But now a new generation will have that chance again, letting them build confidence, knowledge and social networks – all things that are essential for those who, in 50 years, will be the new leaders of the country.

– Translation by Thiri Min Htun and Thae Thae Htwe

By Shwe yee Saw Myintand aung thuya

A CHILD’S life in Myanmar tends to be sorted according to an early choice between one of the four different educational streams: monastic, state, private or international. Each model serves a different role in the system; however, gaps and loopholes in the ways they relate to one another force some to make difficult choices – possibly involving poverty, bribery or both.

Charging higher payments at a US dollar rate, international schools offer pre-collegiate and higher-education programs designed to help their students leave Myanmar to study abroad.

The appeal of international schools is that they don’t follow the local curriculum, and are geared toward stronger English skills and future placement at an overseas university. In certain circumstances, however, that’s also their drawback, as Daw Nan Shall Mon of Yangon’s Kyeemyindaing township has found.

“Both of my children attend an international school. One of my children is a grade 1 student and the other is in grade 5 but I would like to move them to a state school to give them a chance to take state matriculation exams,” Daw Nan Shall Mon said.

That process, she’s found, is easier said than done.

Because international schools don’t teach the state curriculum, U Ko Lay Win, director of education planning at the Ministry of Education, said a successful switch is unlikely. The topics of study differ, making qualifications difficult in spite of the fact that international students tend to be further advanced than state students at the same age.

He added that lack of relevant legislation pushes most international schools to register as private companies and makes it more difficult to facilitate shifting between streams.

While he added that hluttaw representatives will be discussing the new National Education draft law during the hluttaw session, and while it will include improved legislation for handling international schools, he doesn’t know when it will be passed.

U Min Zaw, director of Basic Education High School 3, Yangon Region, said the education department is working on placement tests letting international students shift to state programs, but doesn’t know when they’ll be ready.

In the meantime, Daw Nan Shall Mon said, some families use payments or personal connections to register at state schools, while their children continue at international schools. The “ghost registration” allows them an escape route if they need it, but the practice is illegal.

When you can’t afford to keep up with international tuition, though, there appear to be few other options.

Stuck midstreamHow families and government struggle with educational options

Struggling to speakBack in fourth standard in Thanlyin in the late 1960s, I didn’t realise the importance of English. But my headmaster did. Every morning he ordered students to assemble in front of the school. Then this short, and short-tempered, man stood on a table and shouted English proverbs into a loudspeaker, while we, 300 children, repeated them back.

We didn’t know the meaning of what we were saying. But he was so keen to improve our English back when the government did not give it priority that he hired a British woman, Mrs Johnstone, to help. She could not speak much Myanmar but her husband worked at the Thanlyin oil refinery and she wanted to help Myanmar children.

We began with pronunciation even before grammar. “‘I go to school’. ‘She goes to school’. Just say it like this and notice later the need to add ‘s’ in some words.”

Only years later did I realise the benefits. When I got a proofreader job at a state newspaper published in English, suddenly these skills were a requirement. I took the dictionary with me wherever I went, even to the bathroom. I watched English movies, listened to English songs.

One of my late senior editors, U Chit Thein Oo (CTO), told me to always try to improve my English so that I would remain valuable even if we were under military government. That way, he said, they would never get the upper hand.

My reading improved but speaking and listening opportunities were limited. Until the late 1980s the socialist government banned all government employees from talking to foreigners. We had to learn by ourselves; being sent abroad was a very rare opportunity given to only a few. After 1990 we saw more foreigners in Myanmar, but still few talked to them due to the language barrier.

More foreigners come to Myanmar now than ever before. And in multicultural organisations, English is even more crucial.

Learning English, or any language, is a struggle. But our desire is what determines the extent to which we improve. We must remember the old motto of St Paul’s (now Basic Education High School 6) which I learned so many years ago: “Hard work conquers everything.” – Myo Lwin

Learning English

English is the most basic, practical medium to communicate with personnel working in organisations like the UN. Without proper language proficiency it would be very difficult for me to perform. To speak you need to read, learn new things and then try to speak. Without reading it will be difficult for beginners or learners to know useful words. One may find listening somewhat useful for learning new words, but it is not that effective compared to reading. But without commitment you can’t expect to improve, so commit yourself and learn.

U Nyi Nyi AungCommunications analyst United Nations Development Programme

Unless your company can communicate effectively in English, it will be left out of the market, which is becoming increasingly multicultural and demands interaction across borders. However, what is often misunderstood is not only one’s ability to communicate and understand but the methods by which one does this. Much of the training we’ll be doing in Myanmar is conducted in the UK too. Language is not the barrier there, but the skills and techniques which enable individuals and companies to excel are often lacking.

British Communications has always focused on the importance of clear, concise usage of the English language within a business context. We sit down with a company to discuss weaknesses, needs and desired outcomes. If language is a barrier we assess it first, then adapt accordingly. We use international and locally qualified trainers and translators. What is crucial is not only overcoming the language barrier but making our training culturally and locally sensitive as well as effective.

David MinchintondirectorBritish Communications

My English skills are very useful, as I work from Myanmar into English and vice versa. But I still need to learn a lot because it is dangerous if a translator makes a mistake. A translator needs to be very careful. I attend speaking and writing classes outside of office hours, a private tuition class with a retired editor. I am the only student focusing mainly on writing. I attended two other classes previously, but neither was useful as the course and the students’ requirement did not match.

I am also watching English movies and listening to English songs, both as a duty and for entertainment. I try to talk to native speakers as much as possible. I pause my writing if I hear an expatriate is speaking in English nearby. What helps most is a personal desire to improve one’s English. And nowadays many foreigners are even learning Myanmar.

Thiri Min HtuntranslatorThe Myanmar Times

the world’s most widely taught second language

– Myo Lwin

Outstanding students are honoured in Ngwe Saung, April 2013. Photo: Supplied

6 7

IN late May the rains began to fall, washing away the dust of summer until what was left looked like a painting, the

vivid green trees standing next to the smooth pavement of Adipati Road in the campus of the University of Yangon.

For a few more days the campus would remain quiet, classrooms and dorms still locked down. With only a few students about, coming to play or to make use of the library, you could almost mistake this year for last – or for most of the two decades before that, when the university was locked down by the former military junta, closed to undergraduates and a barren shadow of its former lively self. You could almost mistake this quietness for that. Almost.

But there is something in the air, something different. The rains carry a feeling of renewal – a sense that while a small step for students is just around the corner, a giant leap for the country is already underway.

For after being reopened to undergraduates last December, Yangon University’s second semester begins June 2.

It won’t be as well attended as in its heyday. Only 50 students – 25 female, 25 male – are permitted in each of the school’s 20 courses of study. Still, the students are back. The professors are back. The library books are back. The learning is back.

“I was lucky to become a first-batch student,” said one student, of Kachin ethnicity, who is now pursuing a geography major.

They aren’t the first undergraduates ever to study here – the history of the university is too long, too storied, for that to be true – but they are the first of a new era.

History is being made on campus once more.

The roots of the University of Yangon date back 140 years. In 1874, the administration of British Burma founded the first government high school in then-Rangoon.

After giving a series of tentative law lectures, the college department opened in 1881, becoming affiliated with Calcutta University in India in 1883 as Rangoon College. At first it granted First Arts degrees, though a

bachelor of arts course followed in 1884.

In 1885, one student, Maung Too, passed his BA and became the first to hold a BA from Rangoon College.

Rangoon College at that time was administered by an education syndicate appointed by the chief commissioner, which drew from the British administration body and representatives from all educational organisations.

Another precursor institution of Yangon University, Judson Baptist College – named after Andoniram Judson, one of the first Protestant missionaries in Myanmar who translated the first Burmese-language bible – was built in 1872 by the American Baptist Missionary Union. Its collegiate section was also affiliated with Calcutta University up to FA level, though by 1896 only four students had passed the exam.

In 1904 Rangoon College began offering courses in mathematics, chemistry and physics.

Enrolment in both colleges increased, and by 1912 there were 334 students in total, though no science degree holder had yet been produced.

Demand for an independent university for the then-British Burma territory started back in 1892, and the Royal Commission for Decentralization and the Education Syndicate had responded by sending a sketch composition of what would eventually become the University of Rangoon to the British government in 1910.

The proposal was so delayed, however, that the Syndicate sent another delegation to the lieutenant-governor in 1915, and only in 1918 did the lieutenant-governor form the Burma University Committee.

The University of Rangoon Act was enacted in 1920. University College (Rangoon College) and Judson College (Baptist College) were merged

under the name of the University of Rangoon, and other colleges – medicine, engineering, teacher training, agriculture and intermediate – operated.

It was said that the law was written imitating the systems of London’s Oxford and Cambridge universities. The medium of instruction was English Rangoon University became number one in the region.

But the students of the then-colleges, including Rangoon College and Judson Baptist College, boycotted the act, which placed the governor as chancellor of the newly founded University of Rangoon. They protested the British government’s control of the university and the limited local access to a university education

The British government, however, kept running the university without

changing the law. And the university became the heart of the country’s political uprising and demands for independence, with students playing key roles in national strikes in 1920, 1936 and 1938.

After Myanmar gained independence in 1948, Rangoon University flourished. Its different faculties gained recognition as a leading Asian educational institution, with the 1950s as its golden period.

The period of Rangoon University at the forefront of regional scholarship came to a sudden end in 1962. The “caretaker government” led by General Ne Win took control of the country and the university students were quick to show their displeasure. As happened during the British era, Rangoon University became a centre of protest. On July 7, 1962, peaceful protests were broken up by Ne Win’s troops, and the Rangoon Student Union Building – the centre of the protests – was demolished the next day.

Ne Win quickly shuttered the university. When it reopened two years later the foreign teachers had been expelled and foreign texts forbidden in favour of Burmese-language texts, under the University Education Act of 1964. Rangoon

University was renamed the Rangoon Arts and Science University (RASU), while universities nationwide were reorganised as separate entities from Rangoon’s university.

The era of Rangoon University as a top regional school with an international reputation was over, and it diminished in prestige and size. But university students continued to make their voices heard. One famous event occurred following the death of former UN Secretary General U Thant in 1974. Upset he had not been afforded a state funeral, students seized the coffin and brought it to the site of the former student union building in protest. Once again the soldiers were brought in and students were killed; U Thant was ultimately buried near the base of Shwedagon Pagoda.

By the 1980s, only 6000 students

attended classes on a campus that once welcomed 10 times that number.

The university’s tumultuous history continued, being renamed the University of Yangon in 1988 in the crackdown following popular protests against military rule. It was shuttered again until 1996, when post-graduate courses restarted, though bachelor courses would have wait.

The military government followed a policy of pushing the universities to remote areas far from the centre of cities, hoping this would dissipate the anti-authoritarian protests that had taken place at the University of Yangon since shortly after its founding.

It would take until the dramatic reforms following 2010 for Myanmar’s universities to end their wilderness years.

With the opening of Myanmar, it quickly became clear that a strong university system was necessary. Daw Aung San Suu Kyi was named as head of the Yangon University Upgrading and Restoration Committee in 2013. On July 27, officials told The Myanmar Times the university would re-open to undergraduates. In December bachelor courses resumed.

Although a few hundred under-graduates have returned to the leafy

campus, the University of Yangon is still a site of contention between school and state.

Retired university librarian U Thaw Kaung said there is still some ways to go before full autonomy, self-determination and freedom of education for the institution are achieved.

“We are behind the times,” he said, adding that the system, and Yangon University specifically, is still emerging from “the Dark Ages”.

The Education Ministry made the choice to limit the initial cohort of undergraduates to a small batch of students, requiring high marks to attend. While education is picking up on the leafy campus, there also a discussion underway about the independence of universities.

Dagon University Teachers’ Union chair U Arkar Moe Thu said there is still a difference of opinions over control of university education at the highest levels, with some saying the new draft law leaves too much control in the hands of the Ministry of Education.

Nevertheless, the university has signed a number of international agreements for academic support, including MoUs with Germany’s Cologne University, USA’s John Hopkins University, Chaung-En Universty from South Korea, Nakora University in Japan, and several Thai universities.

While the education curriculum improves, U Thaw Kaung said he laments the comparatively slow progress in activities outside the classroom. While he said he remembers the university as full of sports teams, arts, music and healthy activities, there is little of that now, except for a few football teams.

“Universities shouldn’t only be about literature but involve other things as well,” he said.

As the monsoon rains encourage the campus’s vivid green colours, the University of Yangon itself seems to have been given new life. As the dust of Adipati Road in the centre of the campus washes away, students say they are excited to continue their undergraduate studies. Perhaps the University of Yangon can emerge again as a leading, internationally recognised centre of learning.

by Ei Ei [email protected]

TEACHERS in Myanmar are sometimes described as those who are “living on happiness”. It’s partly because they don’t earn much salary. But it’s also partly because of the joy they get from doing a job they truly love. One way that joy is passed to them is through “paying respect”, a ceremony in which high school or university school graduates gather, sometimes many decades after leaving school, to give thanks to their retired teachers.

It’s also a way to show the teachers that their work has had an impact – they get to see how successful their former students have become.

A retired schoolteacher with more than 20 years of service recently told The Myanmar Times of the pleasure the ceremonies give her.

“It’s been a long time since I first met them,” said 62-year-old Daw Khin

Mar Htwe. “I am very happy that they still remember us old teachers and also to know that they are well-educated and doing well.”

For nine years of her career, from 1991 to 1991, Daw Khin Mar Htwe taught at Paung Ta Le, more than 100 miles north of Yangon in Bago Region. She said she went against her parents by going into teaching, but was very happy during that period. And she said that respect ceremonies there usually involve giving small gifts to teachers.

“Actually, we don’t expect the gifts,” she said. “We are happy just realising that they are upholding our good traditions and remembering us as respectful people.”

In some cases both current and

former students participate, meaning that the ceremonies help build up inter-generational networks.

And they’re not just for retired teachers either. Primary school teacher Daw Aye Aye Thein teaches at Basic Education High School 3 Ahlone, where there are more than 400 students.

“It is very pleasing that the old

students come back and pay respect to their old teachers,” she said, adding that the gift situation is reversed when at her ceremonies. “The students at our school are not well-off and we give them back some snacks,” she said.

Daw Aye Aye Thein said she chose her career as it was a hobby – something she loved. She said she treats her students as if they are her own sons and daughters.

“We like to see the students pass the exams every year. That’s why I try very hard for them to be successful. I am happy at my work. During the students’ respect-paying ceremonies, we are very excited. It is a mix of happiness and sorrow,” she added.

U Aung Naing, 70, began teaching

in 1965 and retired in 1983 as principal of a state middle school in Gyo Bib Kauk township in Bago Region. He said that while he enjoyed being honoured in respect ceremonies, he felt it was teaching generally that must be respected, not him specifically.

“They are not worshipping me personally. They are worshipping a teacher. They respect the teacher. While I was sitting on a raised platform for the students to worship me, I am also worshipping my old teachers in my mind.”

Still those who live on happiness – and not enough else – are making a great sacrifice, he said.

“Teachers are like grindstones and the students are like the knives which become sharper and sharper. We grindstones become thinner and thinner with the passage of time.

“I have chosen this career knowing the consequences,” he said. But he didn’t say it with regret.

– Translation by Myo Lwin

by khin Su [email protected]

DAW Khin Ma Ma Thaung, 67, remembers how she had to cross herself with holy water every night before

bed during her stay at Saint Joseph’s Convent School in Maymyo, named after the British Colonel May and now Pyin Oo Lwin. She studied there until 10th standard, having left her home in Myingyan township in 1956.

“We were taught all subjects in English, including morals, mentality and character. The Myanmar language was taught by a Myanmar language teacher. Discipline was very strict, and entry conditions were tight. Students transferring from a local school were enrolled one standard lower, though the smart ones could move up within six months,” Daw Khin Ma Ma Thaung told The Myanmar Times last week.

She said the nuns strictly regulated the time allotted to reading, learning and play. Every morning, the students were served two slices of bread, fried rice, egg and tea. No outside food was permitted. Walking noisily was banned.

A convent education was not inexpensive back then. Monthly

tuition for day students was K15, and for K150 for boarders. Piano lessons and other extra tuition cost an additional K25. Parents could pay as much as K250 a month, the equivalent of the price of a tical of gold at the time (one tical equals 0.576 ounces). At today’s price, gold costs K670,000 a tical.

It was Prime Minister U Nu who allowed missionary schools to operate in the country. Every morning, Daw

Khin Ma Ma Thaung’s sister, Mary Ba Thaung, had to stand up with the other students and bless the name of U Nu.

“It was in 1953. There were about 20 students in the lower classes and between 30 and 40 in the upper classes. Each student had an individual desk. We were not allowed to talk. Play was permitted during playtime, but during study time, silence was enforced,” said Daw Mary Ba Thaung.

The education system was so good, she said, that girls even came from Thailand to attend.

“Students included the daughters of President Mann Win Maung and Brigadier General Kyaw Zaw, Mandalay’s wealthiest people, Nagar Daw Oo and Wadan U Kyaw Than. But the discipline was the same for all the students,” said Daw Mary Ba Thaung.

A former teacher at Saint Joseph’s Mandalay, Daw Rosie, said there were 1000 girls at the school. “We had Hindus, Christians and Buddhists.”

Daw Rosie attended at Saint Joseph’s herself before qualifying as a teacher.

“The curriculum at the Christian missionary schools was the same as in government schools. Students

had to get 50 marks out of 100 in monthly tests and 40 marks for first test, second test and final exam. Those who failed to qualify were held back in eighth standard,” she said, adding that the schools’ high quality dated back to the days of the kings and queens, before British rule.

Records indicate that Christian missionary schools existed during the reign of King Mindon and King

Taninganwe.Saint Peter’s first opened in

Mandalay in 1897, and the Father Lafone school in 1895. Saint Xavier’s primary school was opened by Father Bulinger in 1887.

While the missionary schools developed throughout the 20th century and continued to grow after the Second World War, all the Christian missionary schools were nationalised in 1964.

Now those missionary schools have become state high schools.

U Lu Ni, a retired rector of

Mandalay University, said those who attended the missionary schools had better English pronunciation than those who went elsewhere.

But while they left a lasting benefit to their students, the schools and their staff were dispersed. After 1964, Daw Khin Ma Ma Thaung said, most nuns had to leave the country and return to their homelands. The attitudes toward discipline changed; she said the nuns

always cared for their students, but after they left it was no longer like that.

Still, Daw Rosie said that although the teachers left, the mission schools still bequeathed a legacy of assets when they became state schools. Many former missionary schools are still well-thought-of and have good pass percentages during exams.

But she said it depends on the headmaster whether there is still the kind of discipline she remembers from when she was young.

– Translation by Myo Lwin

Things were different then...

Lessons learned

Christian convent schools under British rule were so renowned for their discipline that many wealthy families, even after independence, continued sending their children, Christian, Hindu or Buddhist

‘We were taught all subjects in English, including morals, mentality and character.’

– Daw Khin Ma Ma Thaung, former student at St Joseph’s Convent School, now BEHS 3 Pyin Oo Lwin

The practice of paying respect to those who bring us up

‘While the students worship me, I am also

worshipping my old teachers in my mind.’

U Aung Naing, retired principal

‘I was lucky to become a first-batch student.’First-year geography major, Yangon University

Then and now: St Joseph’s Convent School (left) and as BEHS 3 Pyin Oo Lwin (right) today. Photos: Supplied; Khin Su Wai

Then and now: Daw Khin Ma Ma Thaung as a schoolgirl (left) and today. Photos: Supplied; Khin Su Wai

1874The first government high school opens, a precursor to today’s Yangon University

Back in sessionA reopened University of Yangon sees history reborn

Students walk in front of Convocation Hall on the Yangon University campus a few days prior to the

beginning of second semester. Photo: Yu Yu

by wa LonE and Sandar [email protected] [email protected]

8 9

because it was an unofficial subject.” U Palu Ywel added that they plan

to teach Mon culture and history in city primary schools during the coming 2014-2015 year.

“Mon Region’s minister allowed us to teach in some primary schools. We hope we can get more teaching hours,” said U Palu Ywel.

In Shan State, ethnic leaders have tried to teach from their own textbook, which was used in 1962, but without success.

“Principals allowed teaching from the textbook in PT [physical training] time. Teachers who can speak Shan can teach from the Shan textbook. Some students were interested in it,

but most weren’t because it is not a prescribed textbook,” said U Sai Khin Maung Sein, general secretary of the Literature and Cultural Organisation.

Ethnic leaders said minority languages should be offered as an optional subject in state schools, so that students can devote time and energy to them without taking their attention away from other commitments.

“Children won’t be interested in taking the classes informally,” said SV Kamcindal, a political consultant for the Chin National Party.

Hluttaw representatives have also taken up the issue, with some citing the Nyein Foundation’s findings to support their call for classes to be

conducted in minority language. They have so far not met with success.

U Oo Htay, a retired assistant township education officer in Htantlang township, Chin State, said that the changes, if enacted would not really be new: The British colonial administration permitted teaching in minority languages and this policy continued to some extent until the end of the socialist period.

“I learned mathematics, science, history and geography in Haka and we learned only Myanmar language in Myanmar,” he said. “However, when my son attended school in 1973, four of his subjects were taught in Myanmar language and only one

subject was in Chin language. Later we did not have the right to use ethnic languages officially because [regional government officials] informally banned their use. Because of this, most of my generation cannot speak Chin language fluently.”

In the absence of any state support, some have formed cultural groups to maintain their identity informally.

“Chin Christian Communication Group teaches Chin literature and conducts summer courses for children in Chin State,” said U Oo Htay. “We have requested principals to teach [Chin language] at school during the summer holidays. We must maintain our culture and language

so that it does not become extinct. Already younger Chin people can only speak our language; they can’t read our literature.”

In Yangon, members of a committee responsible for organising Kayin New Year celebrations visit Kayin villages and teach children Kayin Doneyein, a famous traditional dance, as well as Kayin language and literature.

“It would be best to get the rights to use our Kayin language officially,” said U Saw Hla Tun, general secretary

of the Kayin New Year Celebration Central Committee for Yangon. “Under the Burma Socialist Program Party, the government allowed the Kayin language to be taught in school as a development subject provided the class was made up of 90 percent Kayin students. So they allowed us [some rights but not all].”

Some ethnic leaders said the government is trying to gain a genuine peace in dealing with ethnic armed groups. They said it is a good sign, but also raised the question of whether it is enough to discuss – and even reach – a nationwide ceasefire agreement, or whether true peace means recognising the culture and

customs of ethnic groups. “Genuine recognition of ethnic

culture is essential for ending long-running conflicts between the government and ethnic groups,” Mr Kamcindal said. “If Myanmar wants to be recognised as a genuine union, it must be allowed to be colourful – we cannot create a union of only one color.

“If [the government] just wants a one-colour system, we will never have unity and there will always be conflict.”

Ei Ei toE Lwin and yE mon [email protected]@gmail.com

KYAN taw… tot… kaung shae twin… a… alan taing… shi par… thi,” a Kachin student reads

hesitantly, standing in front of a group of researchers.

The boy’s voice stops after two or three words; he looks drained by the effort. After five minutes he gives up trying to read the lines in front of him.

The words – which translate to “There is a flagpole in front of my school” – form part of a test used by researchers from a non-government organisation, Nyein (Shalom) Foundation, to assess the Myanmar language skills of non-Bamar students as part of a project implemented from April to June 2011.

The foundation visited 21 villages in six states, excluding only Kayah State, and surveyed 1199 people, including principals, teachers, parents, primary and high school students, former students, and local officials.

The researchers found that the Kachin boy’s plight was not unusual.

While Bamar students had few problems with the paragraph, many of the ethnic minority students struggled for several minutes or could not complete it.

This was particularly so at primary level: Of 699 primary students tested, 68 percent could read the paragraph, 18pc could read some text and 14pc could not read it at all.

“Some students can read it but they do not know the meaning. When reading a paragraph they took from 48 seconds up to six minutes, and [grade one and two] students struggled especially. Some students we had to help [many] times to even read one sentence completely,” said U Thein Tin, one of the Nyein Foundation researchers.

Based on the survey data, the Nyein Foundation released an educational policy paper at a national-level workshop in July 2011

in which the organisation highlighted the formidable language barriers that ethnic primary students face and called for an overhaul of the government’s 30-year education plan titled “Education for all” that was launched in 2001.

The organisation argues that making education accessible to all in Myanmar – a country of 135 officially

recognised ethnic groups, many with their own unique language and culture – means allowing schools to teach in ethnic minority languages, which is currently prohibited in the state sector.

The research paper found that ethnic minority children were often frustrated and disinterested at school while learning subjects in Myanmar language and this sometimes resulted in them dropping out of school at a younger age.

There is some hope on the horizon.

Ethnic leaders have called on the Ministry of Education to further relax restrictions on the use of minority languages in state schools, following the decision to allow language instruction in state schools but outside normal school hours.

After arguing over these points, in June 2012 Minister for Education U Mya Aye informed ethnic literature organisations of the policy change and gave them two months to compile language textbooks. However, ethnic leaders say the change does not go far enough and that the government should consider allowing some schools to use ethnic minority languages as the language of instruction in classrooms, particularly at primary level.

“The minister said ethnic languages were allowed to be taught but outside school hours. He also said the ministry will not support language teachers or help with the process of writing the textbooks. We must do all these things ourselves,” said U Naing Ngwe Thein, chair of the All Mon Region Democracy Party.

The system changed again when ethnic leaders got a chance to meet

with President U Thein Sein in July 2012, and pushed for greater emphasis on minority languages in state schools. Since then, the use of minority languages has been tested in some schools in rural areas, as well as teaching languages within the school timetable. However, the changes have so far been disappointing.

“Last year we tested our ethnic languages in rural areas in Mon State,” said U Palu Ywel, secretary of the Mon Literature and Cultural Organisation. “We introduced first the culture and history of the Mon ethnicity within a very short time. But it was not effective; students could not pay attention to learning it

How ethnic minorities are fighting – and slowly winning – a decades-long battle to bring mother-tongue teaching back into their classrooms

Ethnic minority children were often frustrated and disinterested at school while learning subjects in Myanmar language and this sometimes resulted in them dropping

out of school at a younger age.

‘Already younger Chin people can only speak our language; they can’t read our literature.’

U Oo Htay, retired education officer in Htantlang township, Chin State

The other peace talks

Students in a Kachin camp for those displaced by fighting are given lessons in English. Photos: Kaung Htet

10 11

by wadE [email protected]

THE best part of Mohan Aiyer’s day is the time spent teaching in the classroom. When he sees a child’s face

take on that remarkable expression of someone who’s just learned something, the world seems new again – both for the child and, judging by the enthusiastic way he describes it, for him as well.

Perhaps that’s why Mr Aiyer doesn’t have a desk, or an office, even though he’s the founder and head of an 11-branch school with a staff of 550, and holds more degrees, diplomas and certificates than can be listed here. The more spread out the schools are, the more time he devotes to travelling between them. Even so, he says, he doesn’t get enough time with each. (His staff generally agree he’d need at least a 30-hour day to have “enough time” to cover everything he wants to do in a day.) Then again, Mr Aiyer never seems to not be teaching. His enthusiasm is compulsive. It’s infectious.

And it’s people-centred, because that’s how Mr Aiyer is. He repeatedly points out others he thinks can convey the essence of the school better than he can, whether it’s a grade 3 kid, a grandmother admiring children’s artwork in the schoolyard or a member of his staff.

But as much as he may dislike the idea, it’s hard to talk about BrainWorks without talking about Mohan Aiyer. A visit to one of his schools feels like a visit to his philosophy rendered in three dimensions: Every suitable space reveals opportunities for expression and discovery.

At the same time, he calls BrainWorks “a Myanmar school run by Myanmar people”, and he’s designed it that way because it’s vital that it can carry on without him.

“A school is something that lasts

forever,” he says. “Eighty years, 100 years. How long can I be a leader for the system? For 10 years, 15 years? Who is going to run the school after me?”

Not that he’s old, but how many generations are there yet to come? Countless.

If teachers are those who prepare students to get by in the world on their own, then Mr Aiyer is doing that in more ways than one. Education isn’t just about teaching students, he says. It’s also about teaching teachers how to teach. Ultimately, it’s about getting people to the point where they’re really teaching themselves.

BrainWorks began in 2004, but it lived in Mr Aiyer’s head long before that. “We were in a leadership program in 2000 in America and he had a vision,”

says Bob Allwright, who was brought on to do teacher training in 2006, fell in love with the project and now spends more time here than in his native Australia. “He said, ‘I want to empower people with self-leadership and so I’m going to teach it in a school.’”

When they first got in touch again, Mr Allwright remembers asking his friend whether he had started that school after all, and if so, where in

India. “I went to Myanmar,” came the reply.

Surprising as it seemed to Mr Allwright, it made perfect sense to Mr Aiyer. His mother’s side of the family came from Myanmar, and though he had travelled to many countries, something

about this place called him to stay.

From the start his goal was

two-fold.

First, he wanted a school that would bring the best teaching methods in the world to kids between the ages of 3 – which Myanmar says is the right age to start preschool – and 18. At BrainWorks, those methods are 60 percent University of Cambridge-designed international curriculum and 40pc Singapore-derived.

The school, however, always seems to be operating at 110pc. And that extra 10pc isn’t found in the curriculum but in values. There’s a focus on common sense and forming strong characters by paying attention to the little things. Signs posted around the school, for example, remind students that there is no such thing as an inconsequential lie.

The other founding principle was that the school couldn’t just be for the rich. Prices had to reflect the cost

of living.Today the school charges only

enough to cover training, facilities and expansion, despite the high cost of real estate that is crippling many international institutions and driving up tuition fees elsewhere. The fees are set so that even a parent who makes a living driving a taxi – as one does – can scrimp and save to make it work, if, as Mr Allwright says, “he knows education is the difference for his child”.

The school started in Sanchaung with one student, the child of an Indian expat friend. Today it enrolls 3000-plus students, 90pc who are Myanmar, 10pc expat, with schools across Yangon. All the while, BrainWorks has devoted a great deal of attention to the parent-child relationship.

The school meets each parent eight times a year, in small groups, to talk about ideas for education outside

the classroom. Young students take home a book every

night. “One of the

fantastic things for success is

reading,” Mr Aiyer says. “Our focus is, every day you finish a book.”

Homework assignments for young students are unexpectedly sensible. Instead of studying and memorising, they involve asking questions things like, “Dad, tell me three things you like about Mom. Tell me why. Tell me your heroes. Tell me why.”

The strategy develops curiosity and open-ended thinking. That it helps tighten family bonds, encouraging children and adults to work together and see each other as unique human beings, is a bonus.

Kids mirror what their parents do, Mr Aiyer says. “Everything you’re learning in your life, you’re learning before you even know what it is … It’s like the foundation of a building. If your foundation is very strong, you can raise up.”

He points to research that says that the brain’s ability to form connections between experience thrives before age three, tapers at eight, and is essentially done by 10.

That’s why he called the school BrainWorks, he says. On a literal, physical level, education is about getting the brain to work.

Contrary to expectation, the school is not among those who are aggressive opponents of rote memorisation in schools. “But [learning by rote] is not the only way. You should use different areas of learning. Education is asking questions.”

Recently, Mr Allwright says, he overheard Mr Aiyer speak to two children, one attending BrainWorks and one from another school. When he asked each what their favourite colour

was, one said, “I like blue.” The other

said, “I love every colour of the rainbow. Rainbows are so beautiful.”

“I mean, that’s a

completely different answer to yes/no,” Mr Allwright says. “That’s what we develop through the school here, where the students become very holistic to their approach to everything they’re doing, that they can think creatively rather than just answering a question.”

That’s why BrainWorks holds back on assessments until the children turn 10 and those neural connects are finished wiring themselves in. Until then, Mr Aiyer says, “The teacher will write two or three paragraphs about the child, that’s all – about what things the child is capable of.”

At the same time, Mr Aiyer doesn’t knock the local education system. Not many people know, he says, but the state curriculum is actually quite good. It’s just that it’s not being delivered in the right way.

“The people who give it have to make it extraordinary. For which you need training. That is the missing link – the way it’s delivered to children.”

For eight years, all staff in BrainWorks were Myanmar nationals only, with support and training from foreigners. Today, there are also 60 international teachers in the system, and professional development is ongoing for everyone. Empowerment is what the school hopes to offer all its staff and students, Mr Allwright says.

“When I’m retired and back in Australia, I’ll turn on the TV someday and see somebody running the education system, or the airline industry or something, and I’ll say, ‘I remember that kid from the school.’”

by aunG [email protected]

ABOUT seven years ago, I was a monastic school teacher in Bahan township, Yangon. The school had

many novices of different ethnic groups. While attending courses, I taught history, English and Myanmar at primary and middle levels. After two years the Sayadaw (presiding monk) asked me to teach at the main Phaung Daw Oo monastic high school on 19th Street in Mandalay – the largest in Myanmar.

Looking back on the experience, I think I learned as much as I taught.

Phaung Daw Oo is one of two monastic high schools with more than 7000 students. Classes range from pre-primary to matriculation. We taught the state school curriculum to children from the outskirts who could not afford to attend the normal state schools. There were a number of children of poor families from Mandalay as well as ethnic people from different parts of the country, mostly Shan, Pa-laung, Pa-o, Wa, Lahu and Lisu, with some Chin and Kayin students.

There were difficulties for those coming from far-flung areas. Most of the ethnic girls had been given a separate hostel and most of the boys were novitiated. The novices were most reliable for the cleanliness of the environment, construction and agriculture.

The student-teacher ratio was not good, however, as there were not enough teachers. Most teachers were, and are, women. Training includes basic computer operation, tailoring, carpentry and gardening. The huge compound contains training halls, administration offices, a library, the accounts department and hostels for novices, a hospital, an orphanage school, girls’ hostel, sports ground, computer room and carpentry room.

Special classes have only 20 students and all subjects are taught in English except for classes studying the Myanmar language. Ordinary

classes have more than 90 students and are taught in Myanmar. The monastic school mostly uses the same curriculum as the state schools, but the special classes, even then, used new teaching methods according to the child-centred method.

While the residing monk tried continuously to improve the teaching system, all the teachers are playing the roles of teacher and student. At that time, we had to apply these methods clandestinely: The officials from education and township administration did not like deviations from the regulation methods. Government officials do not want to think the monastic education system is better.

Beatings and shouting at students are not allowed in Phaung Daw Oo. If someone beats or shouts at the children, the residing monk issues a stern warning, and can also dismiss the teacher. This is one of the modern methods applied at Phaung Daw Oo monastic school.

There is training for the trainers too. I got experience as a teacher as well as a student under the monastic school systems. It was not as easy as a rote-learning-based system; it focused on encouraging children to think. Every lecture needed a lot of preparation.

As the monastic schools are under the Ministry of Religious Affairs, there are some areas in which the ministry was not able to support them effectively. Relying heavily on donors, monastic schools have been struggling to survive. Despite financial assistance, teaching methods, vocational training apparatus from international organisations, the schools continue to need assistance.

Living with children from different backgrounds meant I was exposed to a wide variety of experiences. Many children were old for the classes they were attending because they entered the school late. It was funny to see bigger boys in lower classes. Though they are not very fluent in the Myanmar language, ethnic boys liked to talk about tea, guns and opium plantations.

One thing I will never forget is life at the orphanage school. There were 75 students, ranging from the spoon-feeding age to matriculation level. It took all sorts. Some liked to steal, some to fight. Some wanted to watch TV all day, while others would go to the games shop. We had to correct various kinds of unhealthy

behaviour. Every day there was a different problem.

At night I always gave a speech after paying my respects to Lord Buddha. Then I would tell them bedtime stories. It was hard to choose the stories, because the students’ ages varied so much. Sometimes I didn’t

get to sleep until midnight because the boys would fight, eat stealthy snacks in bed, or go out without permission. I didn’t seem to have much freedom for myself.

Then in the morning I would collect the children, get them into class, then go on to give my lectures.

All my time was spent within the compound walls, catering to their needs, with no time to think about my own. My salary was K4500 per month at that time, the starting salary for teachers. It wasn’t much. But I think I gained a lot more than that.

– Translation by Myo Lwin

What teaching taught me

Growing minds

A Myanmar Times reporter reflects on his experiences at monastic schools

BrainWorks, a Yangon-based group of schools, believes the first 10 years of a child’s life sets patterns that last a lifetime. Its founder hopes the same is true for the organisation itself

The author teaches the young novices outside of their classroom in Yangon in 2006. Photo: Thiha Kyaw

Children show off their art at BrainWorks’ Thingangyun school. Below, Mohan Aiyer (left) and Bob Allwright. Photos: Yu Yu

‘Government officials do not want to think the monastic education system is

better.’

There’s a focus on common sense and forming strong characters by paying attention to the

little things. Signs posted around the school, for example, remind students that there is no such

thing as an inconsequential lie.