One of the most vivid memories I have from my LiA experience in Mumbai is my first morning waiting outside the Karmaveer Bhaurao Patil English School in Sion, Dharavi. The school, located in the narrow, battered streets of Pratiksha Nagar, was surrounded by rows of small tenements and rickety buildings darkened by rainwater and soot. Mumbai’s monsoon season had arrived unexpectedly early this year and I experienced it first-hand as I stood ankle-deep in the pouring rain, shoes caked with mud. As I stood outside the narrow entrance, all I could see around me was a sea of umbrellas and a large crowd of young children in their olive green school uniforms, many of them holding their parents’ hands as they waited outside in the rain. It was the first official day of the new school year and I could notice the students buzzing with both excitement and a hint of fear. At that very moment—amidst the chaos of the alarming rain—I noticed several wide-eyed children giggling and jumping excitedly from puddle to puddle, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of peace wash over me. Learning to be fully present, to persist in the face of failure, and to find joy in life’s simplest moments—these were some of the most important lessons that I took away from my LiA experience with the organisation, Teach For India.
Before beginning my 6 weeks as a teaching assistant in Classroom 3B, I had an hour-long chat with the class teacher, Devaki, who was completing a 2-year teaching fellowship. I learnt that the students at the school came from low-income backgrounds, with many facing violence and abuse in their home environments. Student absences were frequent at the school since many faced difficult circumstances back home. For instance, one of the students in Classroom 3B was often away for extended periods—sometimes months at a time—due to an unstable and abusive home environment. As a result, his education had been severely disrupted and there were large gaps in his knowledge compared to the other students. At the school, parents paid a tuition fee of ₹1400 a month (approximately £12), which was locally considered a significant expense. Most of the children in Devaki’s classroom were fluent in Marathi and Hindi, and had just started to learn English at school about a year ago. She informed me that although the children had made a lot of progress over the course of the previous year, their English would be rustier than usual since they had just come back from a month-long break and had not spoken in English all summer.
One of the key challenges that I was informed about was rote culture, with many children struggling to think creatively or outside the box. Some of them would simply memorise and repeat sentences from the textbook without truly understanding their meaning. There was a general fear and lack of confidence associated with creative activities like art, and the children found it difficult to draw something from their imagination; they would usually just draw something that they already knew about or had seen before. Many of the children had experienced violence both at home and at school, with previous teachers hitting them to punish mistakes or poor behaviour. As a result, fear also extended to other aspects of the classroom life, with some children being afraid to speak up or make mistakes, hoping to avoid punishment.
After this conversation, my vision for the next six weeks became clearer, and my goals included reducing fear within the classroom, nurturing curiosity in the students, helping them become more confident through practical experiences, and providing more individualised, tailored attention to struggling students. Looking through the classroom portfolio, which showcased the children’s best classwork, it was heart-warming to read their ‘Before’ and ‘After’ diary entries prior to the start of Grade 2 up until the end of that school year. Before beginning Grade 2, students explained that they used to be afraid of some of their teachers and would receive poor grades on tests and exams, but by the end of the year, their grades had significantly improved and their parents felt proud of them. In the ‘After’ diary entries, it was incredible to note the students’ progress and their growing optimism: not only were they writing in longer and complete sentences, but they had also improved their grades, started to love subjects like English and Maths, and continuously mentioned how they would keep trying their best to improve.
Stepping into the classroom on the first day, I was struck by how cramped the space was for such a large number of students. In fact, the crumbling yellow wallpaper and the narrow window panes made the room feel even smaller. However, I was motivated to see the children brimming with visible energy and excitement – their smiles brightened the room and I anxiously hoped I would make a positive contribution to their learning. Little did I know that over the next six weeks, I would end up learning far more from these children than I could ever offer in return, and that it would become one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.
Having learnt about the very real hardships experienced by these children, I was deeply moved by their beautiful smiles and how eager they were to share their thoughts, hugs, and even their food. Although they barely had enough in their lunch boxes, many of them would excitedly offer me a large piece of their paratha or a toffee - small acts of kindness that I will never forget, especially since they reflected the warmth that the children brought to the classroom. On another occasion, one of the girls in the classroom gifted me a beautiful drawing of the cartoon mouse Jerry with a huge heart drawn below it. It was inspiring to observe the depth of emotion and thoughtfulness in these children, despite being so young.
When given the right guidance, these students were very enthusiastic in the classroom and would continuously ask questions if they did not understand a topic. Although it was difficult for them to pay attention for long stretches of time, they were full of curiosity. I was particularly inspired by their raw honesty as they voiced whatever was on their mind, occasionally whispering in my ear if they felt upset or afraid about something. Showing vulnerability is something that I have personally always struggled with, so witnessing how openly these children expressed their feelings had a profound impact on me. It taught me that expressing vulnerability can be a sign of courage, and underscored the importance of asking for help when you need it.
I noticed that the kids were very observant and rarely complained unless they were feeling ill or hungry, and they would constantly point out small things that made them feel grateful - such as the new posters decorating their classroom walls. One child smiled brightly at me during lunchtime and told me that he was very grateful for his mother, who packed his lunch each morning. Other children told me that they were thankful for the school and to be able to learn so many new things every day. They would voice their gratitude with sincerity, and sometimes with a hug when I walked into the classroom every morning. In a world where we often overlook emotions in favour of achievements and outcomes, their honest gratitude felt liberating.
The children loved a sense of routine and structure such as their daily meditation and small rewards or incentives for good behaviour, since it encouraged them to become more involved in the classroom. Their eyes would light up when we would drop marbles into the classroom glass jar for good or kind behaviour – there were 3 pieces of tape on the jar representing different reward levels: when the marbles reached the first level, the children could sit with their friends for the day rather than sticking to the seating plan. The second level meant that the class would have a games afternoon, and the third level meant a field trip. I was pleasantly surprised by how thrilled the children seemed about these rewards; many of them excitedly nudged their classmates and leaned over their desks to catch a better glimpse of the jar. The kids’ happiness did not emerge from having more, but rather from appreciating the small things — even something as simple as the opportunity to sit beside their best friend for a day.
During my volunteering journey, I supported the students in Maths, English, and Environmental Studies. I helped them with numeracy skills, problem-solving, language fluency, reading comprehension, creative writing, and general knowledge. I also supported class read-aloud sessions and helped out with art activities encouraging creativity and self-expression. We tailored the lessons to different learning levels by organising separate group activities — for example, with the support of other volunteers, we conducted additional sessions for students who were struggling, helping them strengthen their foundational knowledge. We used props and interactive activities which were highly effective for encouraging participation, critical thinking, and creativity.
My volunteering experience came with its share of challenges, which pushed me to grow and put the ethical leadership skills I’d gained throughout the Laidlaw programme into practice. I realised that the kids struggled a lot with English spellings and with understanding written instructions – some of their progress from the previous year had been lost due to the long summer break and it took some time to help them rebuild their confidence. They were used to rote learning certain words and phrases but found it difficult to think creatively and use their imagination without guidance. It was a slow but rewarding process to observe the transition from memorisation to imagination.
For instance, on one occasion, an art teacher visited the class and provided the prompt, “Draw what love looks like to you.” The aim was to encourage the students to think creatively and depict something original and imaginative — ideally, something they had never seen before. However, the children initially struggled and many defaulted to drawing familiar figures, such as their favourite characters, family members, or favourite foods. After we rephrased and clarified the instructions, some students began to grasp the task more fully, which was then reflected in their artwork. One child, for instance, drew a samosa-shaped mountain, while a few others imagined a rainy day with chocolates and sweet treats falling from the clouds. Reflecting on this challenge, we decided to use a different approach later in the week which turned out to be more effective: we asked the students to invent their own animal using a list of sentence starters and fill-in-the-blank statements—this guidance made it much easier for the children to be creative and use their imagination.
On another occasion, I realised that many of the children struggled with abstract concepts, which can be common in early childhood years. For instance, in one of the reading comprehension tasks, we provided the students a passage which talked about 7 sisters, each representing a unique location in Mumbai. At the end of the story, the sisters united to form one large city, Mumbai. However, many of the children struggled to understand that the sisters represented characters in the story, not just locations, highlighting how young children may think in more literal terms, requiring more time to understand personification and symbolism. As I continued to teach over the next few weeks, I learnt to constantly ask the children to provide specific examples so that they would be encouraged to reflect more deeply about abstract ideas. For instance, when we discussed the children’s goals, wellbeing, and the importance of ethical values, we would ask them to explain what respect, kindness, or courage would visually look like in the classroom by showing, not telling. We would constantly ask, ‘Why?’ encouraging them to explain their answers and think deeply about their explanations.
My experience working with the students pushed me to develop a level of patience that I didn’t know I was capable of. On some of the days, the children were much more chaotic and filled with overwhelming energy – if we did not plan the transitions between classroom activities carefully, it would take a lot of time to stop them from talking and running around the classroom. On some days, they would repeatedly wander up to me with ‘urgent questions’ – even if these were completely irrelevant to the lesson being taught. I also realised that the children struggled to maintain focus when asked to read or write lengthy passages, often feeling discouraged by the sight of too many words on a single page. It demanded every bit of my patience (and the occasional promise of marbles) to encourage them to focus. When the classroom grew too chaotic, we would remove marbles from the glass jar – a strategy that was highly unpopular but by far the most effective.
One thing that stood out to me during my experience was that many of the girls in the classroom were noticeably more enthusiastic and involved in class discussions compared to the boys. In fact, whenever a question was posed to the entire classroom, some of the girls would almost be falling out of their seats, hands raised eagerly, hoping to be chosen to answer. Despite the various economic and social barriers that girls in India – particularly in marginalised communities – continue to face, it was a powerful reminder that a supportive school and home environment is necessary for closing the gender education gap and reducing dropout rates. Through creating safe spaces where they feel empowered to participate and learn, it highlighted just how important investing in girls’ education is from a young age.
Additionally, there were children in the classroom who faced speech difficulties and learning disabilities. Despite the teacher's repeated efforts to persuade their parents to seek a proper diagnosis and consider schools better equipped for special education, they had all resisted. This was likely due to a mix of denial, limited awareness, and the social stigma surrounding learning differences and mental health issues in many parts of India. To ensure that these students did not fall behind or feel isolated, we decided to support them more closely by dividing our efforts among volunteers. This allowed them to learn at their own pace, free from bullying or conflict with their peers. Besides some instances of bullying targeted at the children with learning difficulties, there would often be violence within the classroom, with children hitting each other and causing unnecessary harm. Although these fights and arguments would be quickly resolved, overcoming this deeply rooted prejudice—even among such young children—proved to be difficult. We therefore frequently reminded the children about the classroom's non-negotiable values, describing and rewarding specific examples of kind behaviour and consistently reinforcing the classroom rules.
Having spent part of my childhood in India but moving abroad at a young age, I never fully experienced the culture during my formative years or understood the extent of poverty faced by many of these students, which made me eager to immerse myself more deeply and learn as much as possible. It was humbling to learn about the living conditions that many of these children faced — some of them shared a single room, about the size of my bedroom, with more than ten other family members. In fact, I was astonished to find that some of the smaller rooms in the school building, including the room next door to our classroom, were actually makeshift living quarters. It was especially troubling to observe how frequently students felt sick — many of them would approach me mid-lesson to complain about headaches, hunger, nosebleeds, and stomach pain, and we frequently had to call their parents to pick them up earlier from school.
Having retained my fluency in Hindi, I found that I was able to connect with the children on a more meaningful level, particularly when they struggled to articulate their thoughts and feelings in English. Despite all the struggles faced by these children, I was deeply inspired to see them show up each day with large smiles on their faces, excited to learn. A moment that I will always remember is when one of the students showed me a beautiful drawing of the human heart that she had made herself. Another student’s eyes lit up with excitement as she saw the drawing and she told me about her dream for the future — to become a doctor. In that moment, I felt even more motivated to support these children. For most of them, being able to attend school was a privilege, and education represented their only real hope to break free from poverty.
My understanding of ethical leadership has greatly evolved over the two years of the Laidlaw Scholars programme—from initially seeing it as a role of direction and decision-making, to now viewing it as a practice rooted in empathy, service, and self-awareness. Earlier, I associated leadership with being assertive and having a clear vision. While these traits definitely matter, I’ve come to realise that effective leadership is far more relational—it’s about listening actively, empowering others, and consistently aligning your decisions or actions with your core principles. In particular, I have become more conscious of the moments when I feel tempted to cut corners or stay silent to avoid conflict or discomfort. Being in a new environment made my perspective on India more nuanced, and made me realise that ethics and values are context-dependent. I found that acting ethically wasn’t just about my own personal values—it was also about respecting local norms, responding without judgment, and understanding how people’s backgrounds and childhood experiences shape their behaviour.
During my LiA experience, I learnt that leadership is not necessarily about having all the answers or making a large impact—it’s about starting small, learning from failure, unlearning assumptions, creating a safe space for collaboration, and remaining flexible when things don’t go according to plan. My experience in Mumbai made me value vulnerability and integrity more in myself and others, and I witnessed first-hand how these traits built trust and motivation within the classroom. Most importantly, I learnt that leadership is about who you are when no one is watching, just as much as how you act when everyone is.
I would like to thank the organisation, Teach For India, for providing me with this opportunity to contribute to educational equity in India. I am deeply grateful to Devaki, who was an incredible mentor throughout my LiA experience and set a remarkable example for the children in the classroom—someone they genuinely trusted and looked up to. I have learnt so much from her and the children about resilience, patience, and courage—lessons that I aim to carry forward with me. Finally, I would like to thank the Laidlaw Foundation for providing the funding that made this rewarding experience possible, and my university coordinator, Christopher Cullen, for his invaluable guidance and support throughout the 2-year journey!