Even as according to a report of the ministry of education of the People’s Republic of China (pop. 1.3 billion), an estimated 30 million citizens were intensively learning English in 2007 — with the projected number expected to rise to 100 million by end 2010 — in the neighbouring sovereign, socialist and secular Republic of India, there is official hesitation and ambivalence about the utility of learning the world’s acknow-ledgedly premier business language. In most of post-independence India’s 28 states, the country’s English language legacy is being squandered. For myst-erious reasons not unconnected with vernacular textbook printing rackets, state governments force the use of under-developed regional languages as the (often compulsory) medium of instruction (education is a ‘concurrent’ subject in the Constitution of India with both the Central and state governments empowered to pass legislation).
For instance all 61,708 government primaries and upper primaries in Maharashtra (pop. 99 million) offer only Marathi medium education with English indifferently taught as a second language. This pattern continues in Maha- rashtra’s 673 government-run secondary schools, with the Congress-NCP government unwilling to change the status quo. “We are already provi-ding adequate time and focus on English language learning in government schools. Admittedly, students want to be proficient in English, but for that learning English as a second language is good enough. There is no need to make English the medium of instruction,” says Sheila Tiwari, joint director and project controller of the Maharashtra Prathmik Shiksha Parishad (upper primary education).
However while the state government persists with pushing Marathi as the medium of instruction in government schools, students — even the poor — seem to be fleeing from them. Recently Maharashtra became the first state in India to record a significant drop in enrolment in Marathi medium schools. According to data released by the Delhi-based National University of Educational Planning and Adminis-tration (NUEPA), last year the aggregate enrolment in Marathi medium schools fell from 11.96 million in 2006 to 11.75 million in 2008. On the other hand, the number of children enroled in English medium schools rose from 1.19 million to 1.50 million.
The flight to English medium schools is even more pronounced in Mumbai, the state capital, with the number of students in English medium schools (5.57 lakh) outnumbering the enrolment in Marathi medium schools (4.31 lakh).
Comments Dr. D.P.N. Prasad, former principal of Mumbai’s prestigious Bombay Scottish School and currently executive director of the Nashik-based R.S. Ruth Trust which runs several schools in Nashik: “Mumbai is the most preferred city in Maharashtra, if not India, because it has excellent English medium schools. Instead of persisting with its irrational anti-English bias, the state government should follow the Mumbai model in smaller towns as well, so that people will not feel compelled to migrate to over-congested metros. Almost everybody in Nashik wants to send their children to English medium schools, as they know full well that it is a pre-condition of living wage employment.”
However according to Tiwari, despite NUEPA data indicating a swelling exodus from dysfunctional government schools, this phenomenon is unconn-ected with the medium of instruction and English language issues. “You are only looking at the big cities and that is why you think demand for English is high. In the interiors of Maharashtra people want to learn in their mother tongue,” she insists.
Quite obviously in the state government’s book, 100 million Chinese and 300 million middle class Indians paying — often heavily — to learn in English are all foolish.
Bharati Thakore (Mumbai)
Cross-fire victim?
In a development that has caused surprise, shock and dismay in academic circles in Pune, Prof. A. Balasubramanian, promoter-president of the Sri Balaji Society, was arrested by CBI (Central Bureau of Investigation) officials on December 7. His alleged offence: securing recognition of the Delhi-based All India Council for Technical Education (AICTE) for four institutions viz. the Balaji Institute of International Business, Balaji Institute of Modern Management, Balaji Institute of Telecom Management and Balaji Institute of Management and HRD — all in Pune — on false pretences.
The society was registered as a charitable trust under the Bombay Public Trusts Act, 1950 in 1998. The trust claimed to own a 12.5 acre campus at Tathawade on the outskirts of Pune, which hosts the four institutions cited above with an aggregate intake capacity of 1,100 students.
Three AICTE officials are also under investigation for aiding and abetting Balasubramanian to obtain the council’s recognition, despite “deficiencies” found by the CBI after on-site insp-ection of the society’s academic complex at Tathawade. Says Vidya Kulkarni, superintendent of police (Anti-Corruption Bureau) of the CBI: “The deficiencies at the Tathawade campus mainly relate to infrastructure not being in proportion to the number of institutions and courses offered by the society. This includes the land, built-up area, facilities like computer labs and library, and even the number of students that are required to be admitted as per the norms.”
In perhaps one of the first police initiatives of this genre, Balasubra-manian was booked under s. 420 of the Indian Penal Code and s. 13 (2) of the Prevention of Corruption Act, and produced before additional sessions judge Arvind Rohee on December 8 who remanded him to judicial custody.
Meanwhile, Balasubramanian’s lawyer S.K. Jain refutes charges made by the CBI. “We have brought to the court’s notice that the Prevention of Corruption Act is not applicable in the instant case as Balasubramanian is not a public servant. The question of cheating the AICTE does not arise as the society has already paid a monetary penalty to the council on the student strength issue. The penalty wouldn’t have been imposed if the AICTE was cheated. The AICTE norms require 2.5 acres of land for each institution, and we have already furnished the 7/12 extracts (revenue documents relating to land title) for 12.5 acres of land,” he says.
Those close to Balasubramanian discern a deep conspiracy hatched by Maharashtra’s infamous politicians-turned-educationists stretching all the way to New Delhi, to ruin the reputation of the professor, an Indian Army veteran turned crusader and former director of the blue-chip Symbiosis Institute of Management, Pune. In 1997, Prof. Bala, as he is popularly known in Pune, shot to national fame when he became the first subedar (non-commissioned officer) to be promoted to the rank of an honorary colonel of the Indian Army, for services rendered to the cause of education of children of defence personnel.
According to knowledgeable educationists in Pune (pop: 5.6 million) which is projected as a university town, the unprecedented arrest by the CBI of Prof. Bala is not unconnected with a drive to clean the augean stables of AICTE, Delhi, whose officials — it’s an open secret — have been arbitrarily granting recognition/approval to patently sub-standard and ill-equipped colleges of professional (engineering, business management, hotel management etc) education. On July 29 last year, Prof. R.A. Yadav, chairman of AICTE and three top officials of the council were suspended from office over corruption charges. Since then the National Knowledge Commission and the Yash Pal Committee have recommended the supersession of AICTE (and the University Grants Commission).
Reacting to the CBI arrest of Balasubramanian, Prof. Biju G. Pillai, director of the Sri Balaji Society, says that the AICTE Act and AICTE regulations up to 2005 did not prescribe a postgrad diploma in management as a technical course which needed approval. “Therefore, where’s the question of violation of law? What about hundreds of institutes which are offering similar courses?” he asks.
Clearly even as a case is being built for the abolition of AICTE, the Shri Balaji Society and Prof. Bala have been caught in the cross-fire.
Huned Contractor (Pune)