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Successive Failures, Small Openings

In 2017, I decided I had had enough of the corporate world. I longed for green spaces, community life, and a deeper connection with nature. That inner nudge brought me to Auroville, where I began volunteering at Isai Ambalam School—an alternative learning space for rural children, part of the Auroville outreach initiative.

I didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of something life-altering. My life’s purpose began to slowly unfurl.

Even though I had exciting experiences in university teaching and project-based learning, this was a whole new world. I thought I knew teaching. I had handled classes, mentored students, and navigated subject matter with confidence. So, when I stepped into an 8th-grade Social Studies class, I believed I would succeed easily.

But very quickly, all my knowledge, methods, and strategies failed me.

Every day was a struggle. The students didn’t understand what I was saying. I spoke in English—they stared at me blankly, as if looking into an eternal black hole. It was a humbling, bruising experience. A teacher with experience and confidence suddenly found himself irrelevant.

This is a story of learning through successive failures. Of letting go of ego. Of choosing to try again—not to prove a point, but to truly reach the learners.

From 'Telling' to 'Connecting'

Coming from a Telugu-speaking background, I couldn’t speak Tamil fluently. I tried English. That didn’t work. I simplified it—still no response. The subject matter remained locked away.

So, I left the subject aside and attempted basic communication. Finally, a few children responded. I was relieved—they were alive, at least!

Then I dared to try ‘butler Tamil.’ They laughed. I became the class clown. But something shifted—they got involved. They started teaching me Tamil. I became a sincere student, and over time, I became more comprehensible to them.

That’s when connection began. They saw my sincerity. They appreciated that I was trying to connect, not just teach. And they responded with their own openness.

Rebuilding the Curriculum

As a Social Science teacher, I quickly realized that sticking to the textbook was futile. The school gave me flexibility, being an alternative space, and I took a bold step: I abandoned the standard syllabus.

Even when I explained geography or politics in their language, it didn’t land. I realized it wasn’t a language issue—it was a cognitive and experiential gap. Many of the children lacked exposure to abstract concepts because their lived realities hadn’t demanded it yet.

So, I changed my role: I had to build their world, not just deliver content.

We began by mapping their homes and streets. Then we built a 3x3 meter mud map of India in the school ground. As we moulded landforms, we spoke about how rivers flow, how mountains rise, how monsoons arrive. Bit by bit, we linked these physical features to agriculture, biodiversity, climate, and finally, human behavior—what food we eat, what clothes we wear, what beliefs we hold.

In this Process students have built India and world Geographical map.

For example:

⦿ Earth’s tilt and rotation connected to climate.

⦿ Climate connected to crops, animals, and forests.

⦿ These, in turn, influenced habits, traditions, and livelihoods.

⦿ And all of this tied into trade, governance, and social systems.

It was no longer geography, history, economics, and civics in silos. It became one integrated experience.

I myself began to see these subjects not as discrete units, but as interconnected patterns shaping life. And it became harder to teach in isolation without losing that beauty.

Something Still Felt Missing

Even with all that effort, something still didn’t sit right. Some children were deeply engaged, while others seemed just to go through it. I could sense the difference between involvement and absorption. Between activity and attunement.

One thing was clear: I wasn’t fully happy.

 The students had done their best. I had seen moments of joy and deep engagement. I myself had learned so much. And yet... something hadn’t clicked. Some deeper thread of connection, some unseen rhythm, was still missing……. (To be contd)