Space to think

The Centre for Imagination enjoys a fabulous view and I make the most of it. Whenever we have a bit of sunshine, I set up on the wrap-around verandah. Invariably, a student (or several) will come sit near me. I have learned that sometimes they need silence and sometimes a conversation. In a residential school, with family far away, both can be in short supply.

Today, I was joined by a Grade 10 student from Afghanistan. Spring has not quite sprung yet here in Mussoorie, so he had his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he sat down and looked out over the hills. I waited, trying to sense his needs. After letting the silence settle, I looked up from my laptop and asked how things were going. He explained that he had come over to the Centre for space to think.

We have a break coming up at the end of this week and many of his friends are headed home. It's made him think about boys his age at home. The word he uses to describe them is "blind". He says so many in Kabul feel hopeless, like there's no point in educating themselves or trying to find work, because they may die. Drug use has spread, as an escape from harsh reality. He described arguments in his family about whether there was purpose in planning for the future.

I asked if he felt different, having come to a place outside that environment. He said the biggest change in himself is feeling like he has perspective, like he can really see. He is scared of what will come of the current peace talks with the Taliban. He wanted space to think through his own future, knowing that he wants to go back to Afghanistan and looking for his place. Answers will not come quickly, and I suspect he'll keep returning to think further and more deeply.

Days like this make me grateful students have a space to think surrounded by nature and wildness, and that, as educators, we are invited into the literal shaping of the future, as young people set their aspirations and imagine who they might become.