Orange summer school

Translators note: Childhood and the beautiful nostalgia of it, will always be afresh in almost every mind. How badly we wish to turn the clock and go back
into a trouble-free world of childhood! The most noticeable point in this story is how creative childhood can be. This story of summer schools and prep
schools may not be new to western world. But such things, a child’s mode of thinking, a creative idea in the child’s mind, is completely new and a
delightful concept in Indian context. The simplicity and enthusiasm coupled with creativity with which the children in the story carried their summer
school is simply ingenious. Another important aspect, a child as narrator, carefully takes you in to the story, as they tackle their summer school kids with
the same care and affection as any school administrator, leaving no details in the narration. The author transports the children’s creativity in to the
curriculum without any gadgets or complex things. Most of the kids now-a-days are not satisfied even after they have the endless video/computer games
to play and the amount of television time. In reality a child can be encouraged to use the same time to build character, cherish moral values and yet most
importantly have real fun. This story sums up the real pleasure of reading.

After the summer vacation, I will be enrolled in 10th grade. That means the whole year was finished without me
getting the first rank, not even once. During our vacation last year, we worked real hard to learn our lessons. But
now we are older, you know! If we keep learning only simple skills, people will laugh at us. Nowadays even amma is
putting so much more trust in me in that regard. She is leaving duties like frying the curry—I can get it done without
getting it overdone, you know—and grinding chutneys entirely to me in the evenings. Further, she assigned the small
jobs like setting the meals plate to Chinnari, cleaning the kitchen to Indu and making beds in the morning and folding
blankets in the evening to Bujji. Ha, the big tasks she used to make me do when I was their age!

I wailed that no one should be born as the eldest daughter in any family. Amma heard me and, you know what she
said, “Why!! As the eldest daughter you will get to go to a good house; we will send you to a good house, we will
give you everythig, whether we can afford or not. No one should be born as the last daughter nor be the eldest
daughter-in-law, if you ask me.” She gave a big lecture like that, contradicting my theories. Anyway, why worry now
about how not be born in the next birth? I thought and kept quite for the time being.

Again construction season started which meant we can’t see dad for two or three months at the least. But then, this is
the last year, we were told. They said the bridge would be open within five or six months. We are bored to death,
just sitting at home! How long can we play with tamarind seeds? Our fingers are nearly swollen! And singing nonstop
is making our voices hoarse! We feared that we might die of boredom if we don’t do something useful during this
summer.

Out of boredom, Chinnari and I met under the orange tree. Bhagyamma and others were already there waiting for
us. The tree is full of oranges, ripe and turning into deep mango color. No matter how hot it is outside, it is so cool
under this tree. Even the ground is feeling amazingly cool! Each one of us took one branch and started counting; the
number of oranges totaled up to five hundred!

Then Bhagyam said, “Hey! It is nice; her suggestion is okay I guess. But, we’ll do it in a different way. There is no
need for us to start the school in a palace. We’ll set up our school right here, under this orange tree. We all will be
the teachers. If we go around and assemble some kids, we can run the school for these two summer months. It’s
okay, we can take Bujji as student.”

“Of course, you’re right! We know we are good at math. But what about the mothers of those kids? They could be
worried that we’ll teach bad math! If we try to teach geography and science, kids may not like it,” I said. Further,
where are the mother who wouldn’t agree if we offered to take care of their kids from noon to four every day? If at
all, they’ll see that they can have their wonderful sleep by sending their kids off to our school. It was evening and we
were still discussing how to play our school game until amma and aunty showed up at the backyard.

We named our school Orange Summer School. I am the principal. Chinnari and Bhagyamma will be the
headmistress, taking turns every other day. All the others are teachers. Bujji is school leader. Minimum age of
enrolment is three years and the fee two rupees per child. At twelve noon, mothers will bring them and at four o’
clock they will be back to pick them up. That is all we’ve decided for the moment.

Chinnari’s hand writing is good. She tore blank pages from our used notebooks and wrote very neatly, “Enroll your
kids in Orange Summer School. We teach songs, poems, sports, dances, math tables and drawing to your kids, 12-
4 p.m. We will serve orange juice during break.” Altogether she made fifty flyers, they were so neat, like print! It got
real dark by the time we were done with it.

The next day, we got up early in the morning. Chinnari, Bhagyamma and I went to each house in the neighborhood.
Bhagyamma knows the specific houses where there were kids, since we did the same during bommala koluvu[1]
festival! The way I described our teaching method was so impressive; some of the mothers were tempted and asked
us, “Can we come too? We would like to learn songs from Jalaja.” Well, we didn’t agree for that. After going
around like that for two days, we could convince fourteen mothers to send their kids to our school. We asked amma
to find an auspicious day to open our school and she said that all days are good for good deeds. Vexed with her, we
went and asked aunty and she consulted the calendar and told us that the next Wednesday was a favorite day for
Saraswathi, the goddess of education.

After that, only the orange tree knew how fast our vacation was gone. Actually, we had to spend two days just to
prepare the schedule. We knew only too well that the kids will not come back, if they got bored. Saying is one thing
and actually preparing a schedule is another. After all the kids arrived at school, we will have prayer. Jalaja will sing a
song Vara gana Lola since none of us knew the song. It is just like a marching song; even the sleepy kids will have
to wake up with that song. After that, I being the principal, have to say “today’s word,” the words and morals I
heard from my elders. I will also have to read the news. Mind you! Must not read movie news.

The first hour is verbal math[2] and tables taught by Bhagyamma. It is better to finish whatever is important to study
first, I guess. After math, Chinnari will teach Telugu. She could teach whatever she wished to teach. Like vemana
satakam, poems from Krishna satakam, riddles or stories about chandamama. Although I am the principal, I have
no say as far as her class went.

There is an interval after Chinnari’s class. We have to give the kids orange juice at that time. Aunty agreed to let us
take six oranges per day. She gave us sugar in a small glass, and all the kids complained that the juice was too sour
to drink, and said they didn’t want it any more. Then aunty gave us sugar with a bigger glass and also two spoonfuls
of salt. Amma gave us four glasses of different sizes though. That was no help since we couldn’t figure out the correct
measure in each glass; it turned into a headache. We may measure and pour per limit, but the kids see only small
quantity in a big glass; how could they accept, especially after paying two rupees’ fee? So, we decided to clean the
same glass and give them the juice, no matter however much time it took.

After the interval, I will teach the next class, history, I mean not real history. I have to learn stories of emperors like
Bali, Shibi,Dharamraju and Harishchandra etc.[3] First I have to learn and then teach them. What a big task!
Learning first and then teaching, both are entirely different, I must say! At the end, Indu and Pankajam will teach
dance, with bharatha matha, Mother India, standing in the middle; for every dance she is a must I guess! After
that, we will have games, until the mothers come to fetch them.

There was one thing that scared us like hell. Our uncle did not know that we were running the school in his his
backyard. We were worried in case the mothers came rushing through the front gate and asked him about their
children. In order to avoid this disaster, Indu and Pankajam were instructed to stand at the gate and hand over the
kids as they saw the respective mothers. It’s the same thing when they came to the school at noon also. Indu and
Pankajam will receive the kids at the main gate itself and bring them into the backyard through the side lane.

As of now, we’ve been running the school for two months but uncle hasn’t even gotten a speck of a doubt about
what’s happening under his orange tree. How can he suspect? At about eleven, while uncle was finishing his lunch
with rice and yogurt, aunty will make the room cool, by covering all windows with blinds made of khus khus roots
and turning on the fan; then she gives him a mat and a pillow to sleep! I’m telling you, whoever ate her cooking
would fall asleep so fast and into such a deep sleep, nobody could wake up that person before 4:00 p.m. During that
period, all the adults and kids have to use either the narrow walkway or tiptoe through our portion of the house.

No one was ever absent in our class from the first day we started the school. Further, on some days, we got almost
twenty kids. You know there is always a relative’s kids or some other aunty’s, etc. in every house because of
summer break! But we don’t charge extra for those children, as we can’t ask relatives. It is bad manners.

One day, Chinnari was teaching riddles and proverbs to the class. She is a gem at teaching. Pours herself over books
forever and teaches all that to the class!! Bhagyamma and I were making orange juice and listening, without
distracting her though. From nowhere, uncle opened the kitchen door with a bang and came out. We all were
dumbstruck; it was like we had a heart attack!

“Whose kids are all they? What’s it, Bhagyam! What’re you all doing here?” Not a word came out of Bhagyam’s
mouth! I picked up the courage since he was not my dad and replied to him! “No, Uncle! We gathered the kids and
are teaching them math and poems; that way, they don’t play in the heat!”