“Ma’am, kya aap anda khaate ho (Ma’am, do you eat eggs)?”
For the first time in my school-related experiences, on March 27 this year, my students asked me this question. In my school visits, daily school practice and interaction with teachers, I have noticed most teachers quite openly promote vegetarianism in their schools. If they are not preaching about it during the morning assembly, they will be subtly talking about it during class. It is no less than subliminal perception!
During my own school years, I experienced something similar. However, my teachers never talked about the moral superiority of being a vegetarian. Instead, I had concluded that it was much more acceptable to be a vegetarian as I rarely saw anyone be anything else. Everyone brought vegetarian food to school (mostly on account of us being very small children and non-veg typically being oily and flavourful curries that would be difficult to carry in a tiffin). Most of my friends were vegetarians as well. Ironically, my school’s demography included students and teachers from different backgrounds like Bohra, Muslim, Rajput, Jain and others. This naturally meant that our dietary practices were also diverse. Yet, we rarely had a conversation about it or even saw anything other than vegetarian food.
This environment instinctively led my brother and I to raise our hands when a teacher asked who is vegetarian in class. We were finally discussing the elephant in the room but by then it was too late. Our perceptions had already been formed. I felt I had to say that I am a vegetarian, otherwise I would be seen and treated differently by my friends and classmates. I overcame this fear long ago. But for the longest time, I did not tell my friends that I ate eggs or chicken. This was in class 2. I was eight years old. And I had resigned myself to leading a double-life like a spy – vegetarian in school and non-vegetarian at home. I don’t remember how long I kept up this charade, but I will never forget that even as a small child I had a good idea about social perceptions and belongingness.
Also read: Upper Caste Dominance and the Political History of Gujarat’s Conversion to Vegetarianism
The desire to be accepted and be part of a group is intrinsic to humans. It is an evolutionary need. We need to be part of the herd to survive. Even a young child of five years is acutely aware of this. In fact, I believe that children are usually far more observant than adults. They are able see things that we adults either ignore or take to be the norm. To use a Piagetian term, a child is an explorer. Everything is new and fascinating. Therefore, everything is worth making a note of.
My students at Rajkiya Prathmik Vidyalaya, Adivasi Basti, Ward 1, are no different. In the last seven months of school practice, I have observed many of them say that they are vegetarians. Many of them also point out those who eat non-veg. But no one ever came out on their own to say that they ate meat. They just accepted the truth when others pointed it out. When some of them finally asked me if I ate eggs, I said yes with a smile. The students were surprised. How could their teacher eat eggs? Instantly three students announced that they also ate eggs. They were smiling in wonderment as they said it.
The next day, another group of students came to me and asked me if I ate eggs. Some students from yesterday were also present. Presumably they had told the newcomers about it and the latter group wanted to confirm if it was true. As some more of them said that they ate eggs, a girl from class 4 informed me that these students had said they did not eat eggs in the other class. The other class meant the room where the other two teachers were sitting. This obviously meant that the students, like me when I was in class 2, where afraid that letting others know about their dietary practices would affect how they were treated. In their case however, they were much more afraid about the change in attitude of their teachers rather than their peers.
Another incident that happened a little while later on the same day affirms this notion. While I was surrounded by this group, a boy from class 4 also joined in. While the students were talking amongst themselves, he pointed out a boy and told me that he ate eggs. I said that I eat eggs too. He was naturally surprised. The egg conversation thus resumed. Some of them told me they ate boiled eggs. Others mentioned that while their father ate eggs, they did not. Meanwhile, this boy detached himself from the group. Sometime later, he came up to me and announced that he had told the teachers in the next room. “Accha. Toh ab (Okay. So now)?” I responded. “Ab vo apko daantengi (Now she will scold you),” he said. “Kyon (Why)?” I asked. “Kyonki anda nahi khaana chaahiye (Because you shouldn’t eat eggs),” he explained. This small interaction brings to light the impact a teacher can have on a child’s perspectives and principles.
Also read: India is Not a ‘Vegetarian Country’ Like the EAT-Lancet Report Would Have Us Believe
An article on Scroll states that a majority of Hindus are non-vegetarians, but this percentage is higher among Schedules Tribes and Schedules Castes. Vegetarianism is a phenomenon associated with “purity” and higher castes. In order to move upwards in the caste hierarchy, many castes and subcastes seek to change their dietary practices and rituals to resemble those of the higher castes. This is what M.N. Srinivas terms as ‘Sanskritisation’.
In Adivasi cultures, it is common to eat non-vegetarian food. But the Adivasi communities in the Vagad region have their own subcultures, like Bhagats and Jagats. The former practice vegetarianism while the latter continue to follow their traditional meat-eating dietary practice. With the rising fervour for Ganesh Chaturthi, Navratri and Makar Sakranti in the Adivasi population (equally in Bhagats and non-Bhagats) in my field location, I have seen Sanskritisation in action. Another place where I have observed this is in schools, where teachers often come from other communities. They frequently advocate the beliefs and practices of their own communities, especially vegetarianism, to the young children, undermining the beliefs of the students’ communities. I have attended morning assemblies in other schools where the teacher tells the students every day that consuming tobacco, alcohol and meat is bad. Imagine the impact this statement has on the children who listen to and repeat this maxim daily.
People who have power through their role as educators need to be highly careful and introspective about what they preach to young minds. Impinging on the child’s culture with their own flavour of moral superiority will create a conflicted relationship between the child and their culture. Comparing meat eating with tobacco and alcohol consumption effectively tells the child that eating meat is injurious to health, morally wrong and needs to be discouraged. It implies that something about your culture and identity is wrong and needs to be changed. Children who are in primary schools are still finding their place in society. They are young and still learning about their cultures, beliefs and practices. Amidst this, if a person in authority tells them that something about their culture is wrong simply because it does not fit into the purview of their own culture, it will naturally hamper the child’s bond with their culture.
Does an educator have the right to give out such severe verdicts? What about the children whose families do eat meat? Do they remain silent or change their practice simply to have a sense of belongingness? Or do we as facilitators of quality education need to reflect on our attitude towards how we treat students from diverse backgrounds? Schools are supposed to be safe spaces for children to explore and experiment and develop into better versions of themselves. If they cannot be themselves for fear of judgement from teachers and peers, then how can we assure them quality education? These questions need to be constantly engaged by everyone who is responsible for the child’s care – including parents, the community, teachers and the state.
Jaya Katiyar is an associate at the Azim Premji Foundation. This article is based on her field research in Banswara, Rajasthan.
The views are the author’s personal opinion and do not reflect the opinions of the Azim Premji Foundation.
