31st August 1997

Goolbai Gunesekera’s Chosen Ground - Part 6

Educating the misses of Visakha

Contd. from last week

Visakha was al-ways the love of Mother’s life. Though she subsequently ran Museaus College and then founded Buddhist Ladies College, Visakha was the first home away from home.

Finances being what they were, the Board of Visakha gave its Principal one wing of the School’s hostel rather than a separate bungalow. It was here that I was born (the result of that one month’s vacation in Karachi Jamshed had earlier insisted upon).

Mother found Visakha a somewhat demoralised school. Buddhist parents (except for a few brave pioneers) sent their daughters to the fashionable missionary institutions. Among these pioneers were the Hewavitaranas, the Amarasuriyas, the de Silvas and many of the affluent Salagama community, the Samarakkodys, the Weerasooriyas and others. But Visakha had made a very poor showing examinationwise. As a matter of sorry fact it had had 0% results for two consecutive years. Mother put Visakha on a virtual warfooting . The entire Matriculation class entered the hostel for holiday tuition. How Mother got the teachers to forfeit their vacation- time is something I will never understand.... but persuade them she did.

Beryl de Silva, now 80 years old, looks back on those times with nostalgia. "Every evening after studies, we would gather in the Visakha garden and sing songs. Your Mother always joined us. She encouraged us to play charades and to entertain each other as a relaxation from studying." I was nearly 8 years old before I caught onto the fact that "My Old Kentucky Home" had not been written specially for mother. That first year every student in the Matriculation class passed the public exam. The following year they were at Distinction level. The Education Department smiled on Visakha once more. Educationwise Visakha has never looked back. Thanks to Mother and Mrs. Susan George Pulimood, Mother’s brilliant Indian successor, Visakha is today the premier school in the island for girls and gains the highest results in Sri Lanka at public exams.

Mother’s early pupils were fascinated by the tall, fair, American with the thick black hair (AND in a sari) . Their eyes remained glued to her in class. Mistaking this riveted attention for a deep and abiding love of study Mother failed to realise that the minute she turned her back to them to write on the Board her students were frantically reading up their text books to try to understand what on earth she’d been saying. The sad, sad fact was that they barely understood a word. Mother’s American accent so familiar nowadays - and a Southern drawl at that, made her well nigh incomprehensible to her captive audience.

An older teacher Mrs. Vivienne de Livera (Mother was the youngest on the staff) undertook to tell her of the situation and here is where true professionalism manifested itself. Mother took herself off to the best British elocution teacher of the day and was soon speaking intelligibly, that is to say - in the clipped English accents acceptable at that time. On her first furlough back to America her relatives gathered amusedly about her to hear Clara’s British accent. Mind you certain names remained very Kentuckian. Kusuma was quickly nicknamed Chesma by irreverent classmates who further mangled Mother’s pronunciation of the name.... and Chesma she has remained to this very day. Mother tended to elude certain consonants. Lillian became Leeyan. William was Weeyam. One of her totally puzzled secretaries asked me what on earth Mother meant by saying Trrrrt Road. I translated it into Turret Road for her and told her to put in the vowels if in doubt. Trained in the American University of Iowa Mother had lots of theories. She imported many American ideas and methods into Visakha. Asian students had a tremendous study ethic.

"If I could have the initiative of the American student with the ability to do intensive studying of the Asian student I’d have a perfect product," Mother would say. But it was a sad fact that the British system of education was extremely academic and did not encourage inventiveness. This lack is still felt today in modern Sri Lanka. One method Mother introduced was the American Dalton Plan - in a somewhat modified form. This method ensured that pupils, teachers and parents knew exactly where they were (or were not) workwise at any given time. Dr. T. Dharma, my old History teacher at Museaeus College and eventually Professor of Philosophy at the Sai Baba University in Anantapur told me, "I am a good teacher, thanks to what your Mother taught me when I worked under her. Everything I need to know when dealing with students I have learnt from her." Mother’s teaching methods w1Gere awesome. She approached subjects through emotions and not only through intellect. Trying to teach me Maths - a near impossible task - she would first talk to me about the relationship of Maths to Music and even to Logic. Eventually I would see the beauty and purity of a subject I hated and I managed to get through my O/L exam (the modern Matriculation) offering Maths.

I told Mother of Dr. Dharma’s compliment. She smiled. "I always had a wonderful teaching staff," she would say. Ah, but she inspired them! Basically Mother was a shy person and, in modern jargon, a very private person. Hearing her speak in public, something she did often with both poise and aplomb, people did not really realise that this was so.

She hated hurting anyone’s feelings unless the person concerned was interfering with the smooth running of her school. At such times her sternness did not thrill anyone. One incident springs to mind. Mother had a close dear friend whose daughter was caught cheating at an exam. School rules decreed a three-day suspension. Students and Teachers alike wondered if Mother would let the punishment carry. She did, and earned the entire respect of the whole school. She also lost a friend who never forgave her.

The Visakhians of her era became her extended family. She wrote frequent notes to parents. Malini and Chandrani Amaratunga still preserve the letter written by Mother to their father telling him to worry no longer about his two homesick daughters in the Visakha boarding.

Living in one wing of the Visakha boarding until I was nearly three years old had the advantage of giving me a readymade family. Relatives in far away USA or even India were never as close to me as Mother’s early pupils who still remain, in many instances, my deeply loved older sisters. A case in point was my first birthday party held on the Visakha lawn. Loving hands made a large paper rose into which I was carefully lowered. My name "Gool" means "Rose" hence the idea originated in the imaginative minds of the Visakha boarders. The gift of the organised Treasure Hunt was placed under the very rose in which I comfortably sat - a placid little baby surrounded by the most loving attention. Mother devoted all her time to her school. It was all to the good that Visakhians saw to it that I had one of the most beautiful layettes imaginable. I only swam into Mother’s consciousness if the aforesaid maids Nimal or Cathleen felt I needed severe chastising. "Oops" Mother would say patting me on the head. "Are you being a naughty little girl?" She would then hand me back to Nimal who took her troubles to the hostel Matron or a sympathetic teacher who disciplined me as well as they could. "You really were a bit of a pain," said Manel Sri Nissanka, my cousin by marriage. "You never stopped talking and you were so spoilt I felt like smacking you myself." As a matter of fact, Mother soon realised what was happening and taking a rare domestic decision she moved out of the school into a house right opposite Visakha. I missed my bedtime audience so much it was days before Nimal could get me to sleep. I kept crossing the road right back to my Visakhians and crying bitterly when I had to leave.

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