Dedicated to .....



Hey Teacher! There’s more
Angela Williams

In a recent article, I suggested that we seem to be deliberately stunting little children’s imagination in order to make them conform, and that we are attempting to cram them into a narrow box of acceptability, by dictating what they are permitted, and what they are not permitted to express. Now, stunting people is wrong; not only because it produces stultifyingly-boring compositions for English teachers to mark: — “My brother’s name is Abdul Rehman. He likes to eat rice and burger. His favourite fruit is mango,” — but also because it takes its toll on children’s personalities long-term, and hence, its toll on the fabric of the society to which the stunted ones belong.

If spontaneity is forbidden, anger never permitted a meaningful outlet, and genuine self-expression crushed, then these very elements may emerge years later, in a grotesque and misshapen form: I refer, of course, to The Dreaded Sister-in-Law.

Why was it, I wondered, when I first came to live in Pakistan, that everyone I spoke to, given half a chance, would complain long and bitterly about her sister-in-law? What’s with these sisters-in-law? I wondered. Why do they steal meaningless objects in the house? Why do they tell petty lies, destroy other people’s stuff and then blame it on the servants? Why such cutthroat competition in the home? What sort of Fairy Tale Land had I entered, abounding, as it was, with Wicked Witches and Ugly Step Sisters? And why, moreover, do these same Wicked Witches smile so sweetly and tilt their heads so submissively, eyes demurely downcast, as they wheel in the tea trolley?

One answer, perhaps, to all these whys lay, and still lies, in the constant repetition of one key phrase, which has irked me for at least 20 years now. This phrase is like a mantra of conformity, a statement of willingness never to rock the boat, never to face real issues, never to deal in truth. It ensures a permanent state of denial that anything is wrong, when things are, in fact, very, very wrong. It locks us in a cowardly, childlike state, and forbids bravery and intelligence. The key phrase is: So I said nothing.

This phrase is always delivered with an air of smug, goody-two-shoes forbearance. What the speaker seems to be conveying is that, by saying nothing, she has practised refined self-control, and has not stooped to the level of her misbehaving sister-in-law, has not caused a fuss, but has simply continued as if nothing has happened. One feels that those who use this phrase have been well schooled in the art of masking their real feelings and affecting the practised smile of the professional hypocrite.

Saying nothing (of any real consequence) is drummed into children from an early age, as mentioned in my previous article; “I love my school. I love my teacher. My teacher is very beautiful,” etc, etc. The 6-year-old who is encouraged by her teacher to express herself freely — “I would like to marry my dog but it isn’t allowed, is it?” — is unlikely to end up surreptitiously making burn marks with an iron in her sister-in-law’s new shirt.

But what about Sister-in-Law’s Husband? Is it only she who bears the blame for the seething undercurrents of hidden viciousness in the home, or does he, flitting innocently in and out of the house on his busy way to and from the office, bear any responsibility for domestic unhappiness? Is he, too, perhaps, not just as much part of the system of damaging denial as his good lady wife? If she’s the Wicked Witch, then surely he’s one of the lost boys in Never Land, refusing to grow up and confront issues squarely and maturely. But his safety valve is his work, his colleagues, and the requirements of the wider world to keep abreast of the news outside the prison of the home. His life is not circumscribed by the tidying of cupboards, the picking up of other people’s socks, the numbing mindlessness of traipsing round with a servant every morning and pointing to the dust, which that yet-further-oppressed woman must sweep up.

Of course, much of this is irrelevant to the modern, well-qualified, working girl who states, these days, from the outset, that she will not live in a joint family and that she will continue working after marriage, (if that’s OK with the in-laws, of course!) But the system of smiling hypocrisy is still there, and is practised in the workplace, at family gatherings, and is passed on to the next generation.

A lamentable situation, and one that is by no means confined only to this country, (as Hamlet, Prince of Denmark would be quick to point out.) I have attempted to cope, over the past twenty years, with these maddening circumstances by conducting teacher-training sessions in which the value of children’s genuine self expression is emphasised, by writing articles exhorting teachers and parents not to snub children’s innocent spontaneity, and finally, under no circumstances, (or, to be perfectly honest, under very few circumstances) by smiling falsely and saying nothing.

To one and all: A (Genuinely) Happy New Year!

The writer is the Academic Co-ordinator and a founder of Bloomfield Hall Schools. She has been teaching in Lahore for the past 20 years and has directed numerous highly acclaimed stage plays