Tuesday, 13 January 2015

ASER 2014 - Looking Back Over a Decade



(This piece appears in ASER 2014, which was released earlier today in New Delhi; reproduced here by kind permission of the publishers, ASER Centre.)

Ten years ago, an ambitious and audacious idea was floated – why not have a people’s audit of government expenditure on education and produce a report for the common man?  In a conversation shortly after the 2% Education Cess was  introduced in 2004, I recall Madhav (Chavan, co-founder and CEO of Pratham) first proposing the concept, arguing that the people had a right to know where the Cess was being spent, and how effective it really was.  At the time, I was with the Ministry of Human Resource Development (MHRD) and grappling with the concept of the Prarambhik Shiksha Kosh (PSK), a non-lapsable fund we were trying to convince the Finance Ministry to create, in order to ensure that Cess revenues remained with MHRD to support elementary education.  In that context, Madhav’s idea seemed like a good one, but I had no inkling then of the scale at which he was proposing to execute it.

When it was finally carried out, the Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) 2005 covered some 490 districts and 3.3 lakh children, who were tested by volunteers from all walks of life, at home, in school, on the streets and in the fields, and just about everywhere in between.  Today the scale and scope of the reports have widened significantly, but for a first time exercise, it was bold and unparalleled in scale; quite simply, nobody had ever attempted anything like it before.  Most striking of all was its intent, captured by the “Preamble” to the report.  We, people of India, from different states and regions, speaking different languages, sat with our children and looked within, inside our homes, at our villages, into our schools, and prepared this report for ourselves, to build a better India”.[1]  This was what set ASER apart from donor-funded or government surveys – it was a report of the people, by the people, for the people.

In 2004, Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA), the government’s programme for universalising elementary education, was in its third year of implementation.  Our concerns in MHRD at the time were primarily around provisioning and ensuring that all children were enrolled in school, in order to meet the first goal of the programme, viz., all children in school/EGS centre/bridge course by 2003.  It was already evident that the 2003 enrolment milestone had not been met, and all our efforts were thus concentrated on catching up.   When the findings of ASER 2005 were shared with us, some days before the formal release of the report, it was heartening to learn that the survey had estimated that just over 93% children of the appropriate age group were enrolled in school; this accorded well with the data being reported by the states, and seemed to indicate that SSA was having a successful impact on the ground.

The focus of most of the debate after ASER 2005 was more on the national enrolment figures; learning levels had also been tested, and the results did not fully match either popular perception, or the available NCERT data.  Later reports, treating the question of enrolment as more or less settled, have emphasised learning levels of children, testing among other things, to see where they stand, and exploring the differences, if any, between public and private schools.  These reports have also examined the availability of facilities in schools vis-à-vis those mandated by the Right to Education Act, and collected some basic economic information about households, such as possession of mobiles and TVs, etc.

The numbers coming out of the ASER 2005 survey also validated the results of another study commissioned by government and carried out by IMRB.[2]  The latter study estimated that some 1.34 crore or 6.94% children were then out of school, which approximated the ASER estimates of 1.4 crore or 6.6%.  The importance of the ASER results lay of course, in the fact that unlike the IMRB exercise which had been funded by government, they were an independent and non-partisan estimation.  While the IMRB report could conceivably be questioned as a "government statistic", the results of ASER were not so easily open to multiple interpretations.  Both the IMRB report and ASER 2005 were used extensively by government to provide evidence of the impact and effectiveness of its universalisation programme, at least in terms of improved enrolment figures.

While the enrolment data emerging from ASER has generally been viewed as encouraging, this has not always been the case with figures related to learning.  NCERT and several state governments disputed many of the findings, questioning both the methodology and the process adopted to determine learning outcomes.  In some cases, the hostility extended to actively banning Pratham from working with their schools, a challenge the latter overcame by working directly with village communities instead.

Somewhere around the fifth ASER report, a suggestion was made that perhaps there should be fewer reports; possibly one report every 2-3 years instead of a regular annual publication.  Many others who work in this sector no doubt shared my relief that this was one suggestion Pratham did not accept.  An annual ASER exercise and report have now become an integral part of the education landscape, serving to educate and inform stakeholders in the system and the public at large.

What impact has ASER had on the Indian education environment?  First, just the introduction of the concept of a "people's audit of education" was a game changer in itself; the People's Report on Basic Education (PROBE) was a one-off exercise and had not, at the time, been repeated, nor was it anything like ASER in its scope.  ASER reports have regularly held up a mirror to society, informing us of how much (or how little) our children have gained in terms of improved education levels, access to better schooling, and removal of inequities.  Note that its original purpose has not changed – ASER is still aimed at anyone who has an interest in education, not just policy makers or academics or other standard stakeholders in the system.

Second, the single most significant finding of ASER year after year has been the fact that learning levels across the country, whether in public or private school, have not improved.  Clearly, even after spending crores of rupees on delivering a Right to Education, our efforts have not succeeded as well as they should have; the policy prescription for shifting attention away from inputs to outcomes could not be clearer.

Third, and directly as a result of the above finding, ASER has succeeded in bringing the issue of learning centrestage; from a focus on ensuring that children are enrolled in school and that adequate infrastructural and teaching facilities are provided to them, the debate has now moved to a place where inputs are assumed, but the interest is in outcomes.  For the first time, the 12th Five Year Plan acknowledged that "there is a need for a clear shift in strategy from a focus on inputs and increasing access and enrolment to teaching learning process and its improvement in order to ensure adequate appropriate learning outcomes”,[3] explicitly agreeing that a more-of-the-same approach focused only on provisioning will not necessarily work.  While there will always be discussion around methodological approaches and whether ASER follows this or that method as opposed to others, the fact is that successive ASER reports have compelled us all to sit up and take notice of what is really happening inside schools.

Additionally, ASER has pushed both the central and state governments into commissioning their own assessments and analyses of the status of education in their schools, often in a move to defend policy and/or practice.  In many cases, these assessments do not produce the same results as ASER, partly since they are not comparable in terms of what is measured and who is covered, and there is often much controversy and hand wringing over the discrepancies, yet it is a moot point if such assessments would today be considered so essential if public perception had not been influenced so profoundly by ASER.

Fourth, ASER has been successful in highlighting an important trend in school enrolment – from only 16% children enrolled in private schools when ASER 2005 was carried out, the percentage has increased to nearly 30% in the last report.  Present trends seem to indicate that this number will increase to 50% by the end of the current decade. Given that this increase has taken place in rural areas, where much of the money spent on SSA and other programmes has been concentrated, this is not an encouraging development, and is one that merits serious reflection on the part of policy makers.

What should one now expect after a decade of this exercise?  Ideally, the annual reports should continue to raise the uncomfortable questions that they do today.  Perhaps there is now a case for a somewhat more sophisticated analysis of learning; not necessarily one that substitutes for say, a PISA or TIMSS, but one that develops a more rigorous indigenous model of assessment, feeding even more closely into policy making and thus potentially making a difference to learning in schools.  For there is no doubt that unless we get this piece right, any illusions of benefiting from a "demographic dividend" in the future are unlikely to be realised.

Personally, I would also like to see greater dissemination of the results of the report, not just at the time of its release, but continuously through the year.  Pratham and ASER Centre have of course, been disseminating the results at district and State levels all these years, but what we need in this country is a continuous and sustained debate about the education of our children.  Data from ASER is used regularly by the media to illustrate their reports; perhaps the next question to ask could be around ways to deepen this engagement in order to keep a discussion going.

Whatever direction the report takes in the coming years, ASER can rightly claim the credit for having changed, over the course of the last decade, the manner in which school education is discussed and understood in India; for that one achievement alone, Pratham deserves our thanks.



[1] Pratham Resource Centre, Mumbai, Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) 2005 – Rural, 2006.
[2] http://bit.ly/1xCn3RO accessed 31.12.2014
[3] Planning Commission, Government of India, Twelfth Five Year Plan (2012-2017) – Faster, More Inclusive and Sustainable Growth, Vol III, 2012.

Friday, 14 November 2014

Skill Bill



Now that we have a new Minister for Skills Development, this may be a good time to pause and consider the truth of our skills development efforts.  In a country where only about 2 percent of those entering the job market receive any formal training, and where the existing annual capacity to train is just over 3 million persons per annum, the government has a target of skilling 500 million young people by the year 2022.  This is an ambitious goal by any yardstick, both physically and financially, and one that we will need to meet in full measure if we are really to take advantage of the so-called “demographic dividend”.

The trouble though, is that this is not just a quantitative target; success here will depend partly on the numbers, but also on the quality of the skills imparted.  Not getting that piece right could lead us to a demographic disaster instead, with poorly trained or untrained and unemployable young people being let loose on the streets to cause mayhem and chaos.

Some months ago, I took a small vacation, spending a few days in my favourite city, Goa.  For a change this time, I booked myself into a brand new hotel, one that had started operations only a couple of months ago.  Swankily built, the hotel boasted all the mod cons – rain showers, fancy light fittings, a mini bar, 24x7 room service, blah, blah, blah.  From an infrastructural point of view, it is hard to think of anything that could have been added; clearly a great deal of thought and money had been invested in designing and setting up the property.

However, when it came to the staff and their orientation towards guest comfort, a great deal was left to be desired.  As in so many other service industries, the training of staff seemed to have stopped at the point where they had learnt how to smile and wish you ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’.  My request for a softer pillow than the one in my room left them completely flummoxed; this wasn’t a request in their script, and they didn’t know how to deal with it!

In recent years, there’s been a lot of discussion about skills training for young people, and the need to equip them with the ability to take on different types of jobs in the service industry.  Yet in none of these discussions have I once heard anyone talk about the concept of service, and how to help trainees understand it.  This lack of understanding impacts the manner in which customer-facing staff interact with the most important person for the business, the customer.  Since in most cases, this interaction takes place at the lowest level, it becomes the level at which an organisation’s public reputation is made or marred.

 Take for instance, the Indian Railways; notwithstanding the many seasoned and experienced managers in the organisation, its image in the public mind is determined almost solely by the rude (or corrupt) behaviour of the TTE on the train or the ticketing staff at the windows.  Similarly, anyone who has ever had to deal with a call centre at the other end of a phone for banking or mobile services will know exactly what I’m talking about.  Two minutes into the conversation, you’re wondering why you called them in the first place; unless you have a really simple request (that you could probably have executed yourself if you’d really tried), you will leave the conversation deeply frustrated and ready to kill.

Mind you, these are not untrained people; they have been trained quite extensively in what is considered appropriate, but never with the explicit end objective of serving the customer.  They are given a set routine – if A, then B; if B then C, and so on.  No allowances for the fact that the customer may want Z instead, and no scope for deviating from the script, even if they were inclined to be helpful.

Another example – I recently changed phones, and needed a smaller SIM card.  When I went to the service provider’s store, I was asked to provide proof of identity, residence, PAN card, etc, even though I’ve been their customer for more than ten years, and this data should be available on record.  After which, the new SIM card took more than 6 hours to be activated, during which time I had no service.  Contrast this with the process followed in US when I needed a phone during a short trip.  Not only did the retailer not need any paperwork, the phone was activated within a few minutes, well before I left the counter.

Which brings me back to where I began.  The trouble with our skilling programmes lies not in the training or lack of it; it lies in the fact that they are not focused on simplicity and service with the goal of satisfying the customer.  Why was it so easy to buy a working phone in the US as opposed to getting a replacement SIM card in India?  Largely because businesses there emphasise customer satisfaction, and will do whatever is needed to achieve it, unlike here, where we carry forward the old government mindset of “be grateful I’m giving you anything at all”.

Just as the newly launched Swachch Bharat Abhiyan seeks to change the way we look at cleanliness, we need to start stressing a sense of service in our education, skills and training programmes.  Skilling is not just about imparting technical abilities; it must also instil an awareness of customer requirements, and the need to satisfy them.  Not doing so will carry a much higher cost than the additional investment required for this purpose.  As the new Minister draws up plans to establish new training facilities and involve the private sector in delivery, wouldn’t it be great if he paid a little attention to this aspect too?

Saturday, 4 October 2014

No Sh*t!!

The Prime Minister has launched, with much fanfare, a programme to clean India over the next five years, just in time for the Mahatma's 150th birth anniversary.  A thoroughly laudable objective, but one that sadly runs the real risk of being reduced to tokenism and forgotten once the cameras have been put away. Already there are snickers in the media and cynical comments about the mess left behind after the inaugural ceremonies, proof if any were needed, that it will be difficult to change public perception in a hurry.

Along with the plans for building toilets in schools and villages, there has also been discussion about IEC programmes - information, education and communication - to create mass awareness about the importance of cleanliness and good sanitation.  And with good cause - nearly 53% Indians still defecate in the open, with 47% finding it "pleasurable and more convenient", and the less said about our cleanliness habits the better.  In many ways, the situation is reminiscent of 1950s America, where more homes then had television sets than bathrooms.  And yet, in the space of a few generations, that picture has changed completely.

In all the public debate resulting from the PM's initiative, it seems to me that an important component of IEC has been missed; or at least, has not found significant mention.  This is of course, the need for a comprehensive Water & Sanitation programme to be run in our schools.  If we are truly serious about ensuring a clean nation, we need to begin young.  And what better place to begin than in our schools?  The present generation may or may not be educatable, but a well designed programme implemented in school over the next five years could change the future of this country.

Many years ago, I used to run a joint Government of India and UN project called Janshala.  In Karnataka, where the project ran in a few blocks, we implemented a Water & Sanitation programme with the help of UNICEF that involved teaching children how to use the school toilets.  This included usage, cleaning and personal hygiene, and helping the children to understand how disease could spread due to poor sanitation habits.  The programme was a great success in improving attendance and retention rates in the schools, particularly of girls who are the most vulnerable to dropping out in the absence of toilets.

More interesting however, was the unintended fall out of the programme.  A longitudinal study taken up at the time showed that as the children got accustomed to using toilets in school, they began to demand them at home.  Over time, this led to the construction of toilets in village homes, and to families of these children also acquiring good sanitation habits.  The school programme ended up having a multiplier effect, impacting not just the children's cleanliness habits, but also their families.  It is precisely this kind of programme that we should be planning for the schools now.

Instead of prescribing Mr Dina Nath Batra's flights of fancy to young minds, wouldn't it be great if State governments worked out and included a WatSan module in the school curriculum?  Combined with the mass construction of toilets in schools by governments and companies undertaking CSR works, this could be the one thing that changes the India we know.

Friday, 8 August 2014

The History of the Right to Education Act


Speaking to a group of young professionals and interns at the Planning Commission a couple of months ago, at the invitation of my old friend and colleague, Pawan Agarwal, I realised that many of us are unaware of the background to the Right to Education Act.  Why indeed, did Parliament find it necessary to consider making education a Fundamental Right, much before it considered a Right to Food or a Right to Livelihood?  Here’s the full story.

From the earliest times, education in India had always been exclusive; only the Brahmins and some very rich families had opportunities for their children to be educated.  The rest managed by acquiring the skills they needed to earn their livelihood.  It was only towards the end of the nineteenth century, as the Freedom Movement began to pick up momentum, that a demand for mass education began to be articulated.  Among other things, leaders of the time realised that education was a tool that could be used to mobilise the masses, thereby increasing the pressure on the British to consider leaving.  For instance, one of the earliest political steps initiated in Gujarat in the 1920s by Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel involved taking over the management of local municipal schools.

The first formal demand for compulsory primary education was raised in 1910 by Gopal Krishna Gokhale, who introduced a Bill for the purpose in the Legislative Council, based on Britain’s own Compulsory Education Act of 1870.  Not surprisingly, it saw no progress.  Mahatma Gandhi called for universal primary education in the 1930s; an apocryphal tale says that he was told by the wise men that primary education could only be universalised by imposing a cess on liquor sales, thus forcing him to choose between two deeply held beliefs.  Gandhi, being the man he was, is reported to have retorted that if the only way to educate India’s children was through a cess on liquor revenues, it was better for them to stay uneducated!  His articulation of Nai Talim in 1937 was thus at least partially in response to those who believed that education was not for the masses.

The debates in the Constituent Assembly link the question of education intimately to the very foundation of our democracy.  When the issue of suffrage was debated, one school of thought held that only educated citizens should be allowed to vote.  Nehru, Ambedkar and others differed, holding that it would be unacceptable to fritter away freedom hard won from the British by creating yet another society that differentiated between its citizens.  They believed, and said so forcefully, that every citizen of the fledgling democracy then being fashioned should be treated as an equal, such equality being translated into universal adult suffrage, or the right of every citizen to participate in our democracy.

What a powerful vision of the future our founding fathers had, and what a leap of faith they took!  To be so forward thinking in the late 1940s as to imagine a country in which everyone, high or low, rich or poor, educated or illiterate, could participate in was unbelievably hopeful.  Remember that these were people who had themselves grown up in a country ruled by foreigners, and in a world order that took things like caste and social stratification for granted.  The reach and scope of their forethought is almost dizzying in its audacity.

And yet, though they wished to make education the bedrock of our democracy, sadly they were unable to overcome the constraints of resources.  Despite its best efforts, the sub-committee set up by the Constituent Assembly reluctantly concluded that it would not be possible for the newly independent India to fund universal primary education as a Fundamental Right; as a compromise, the Assembly agreed to include reference to free and compulsory education as a Directive Principle of State Policy in Article 45[1] of the new Constitution.  And in a nod to the importance of this provision, the Article was the only one that came with a time frame of ten years for its implementation.

Unfortunately the time frame of ten years was never respected, and even though an attempt was made to articulate a vision for education through the National Policy on Education in 1968, it remained largely forgotten till the early eighties.  The declaration of a new National Policy on Education in 1986 marked a revival of interest in the subject, and was accompanied by international commitments made in the nineties (Education for All, UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, etc), as well as greater civil society and governmental action.

The judiciary also played an important role in steering the country towards a universal right to education.  In the case of Mohini Jain vs State of Karnataka & Ors in 1992, the Supreme Court held that the right to education is concomitant to the right to life, that every citizen had a right to education, and significantly, that the very act of recognition by government of a privately managed institution created an instrument of State that could be used to deliver the obligations of the State.  Reviewing this decision in 1993, the Supreme Court, in the case of J P Unnikrishnan vs State of Andhra Pradesh & Ors, held that the right to education is implicit in and flows from the right to life guaranteed under Art 21, and that every child has a right to free education until she completes the age of 14 years; thereafter her right is circumscribed by the economic capacity of the State.

Both these judgments were significant in bringing about the right to education.  It was as a result of the latter judgment that the Constitution was amended through the Constitution (86th Amendment) Act of 2002, which introduced a new Article 21A providing that “the State shall provide free and compulsory education to all children of the age of six to fourteen years in such manner as the State may, by law, determine”.

The Amendment Act also modified the original Article 45, to now provide that “the State shall endeavour to provide early childhood care and education for all children until they complete the age of six years".  And finally, it modified Article 51, to stipulate that it would be a Fundamental Duty of every parent/guardian to provide opportunities for the education of their children/wards.

Unlike other Fundamental Rights in the Constitution however, this one was worded in a manner that made the enactment of a specific legislation essential for its operationalisation (the critical words being “in such manner as the State may, by law, determine”).  Thus it was that several versions of the Central law were drafted and discussed between 2003 and 2009, before the law was finally passed as The Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009.

So there you have it – the story of the Fundamental Right to Education guaranteed by our Constitution.  A right that is deeply linked to our identity as citizens, and to the quality of our participation in the democracy that is India.


[1] “The State shall endeavour to provide, within a period of ten years from the commencement of this Constitution, for free and compulsory education for all children until they complete the age of fourteen years.”

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Acknowledging The Other Half


In the morning newspaper, I came across this article by my old friend and colleague, Rukmini Banerji of Pratham.  Rukmini makes the very strong case that having addressed the issue of providing access to most children, we need to focus on ensuring that children receive quality education; merely enrolling children in school is obviously only half the job done.  More importantly, all children must receive quality education as part of the Right to Education Act, and not just the ones who go to government schools.

Of the 1.3 million schools in India, only about 300,000 are in the private sector; the rest are run by government.  Yet according to some estimates, these 300,000 schools account for fully 40 percent of all enrolments; the schools themselves range from unrecognised budget schools to very high-end premium schools.  Clearly, the non-government sector accounts for a very significant chunk of the total child population.

Rukmini’s argument is a simple one – in a country where such large numbers of children attend schools managed by agencies other than government, can we afford to focus only on the needs of only those who attend government schools?  This is why the Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) brought out by Pratham makes it a point to survey children at home and not in the classroom, so that as many children as possible can be covered, whether enrolled in any school or not, whether attending or not.  On the other hand, the NCERT’s Assessment Survey (NAS) includes only children enrolled in and attending government and aided schools.  Naturally, the results of both surveys are vastly different.

But the point of this piece is not to get into the debate about survey results or methodology.  Rukmini’s article set me thinking about the way education, particularly at school level, is viewed by the political establishment.  I decided therefore, to take a closer look at the manifestos of the major political parties to understand their respective positions.

Not surprisingly, I found a singular lack of vision or understanding across the board.  Almost all the manifestos repeat tired old clichés about generally strengthening the education system, revamping the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA) scheme, universalising secondary education or improving skills development, without providing any details.  And only the Grand Old Party talks about a possible role for the private sector, committing itself to “exploring possible partnerships with the private sector in the delivery of education”.  Perhaps because they remember that the 12th Five Year Plan categorically states that “...private providers (including NGOs and nonprofits) can play an important role in elementary education.  Their legitimate role in expanding elementary education needs to be recognised and a flexible approach needs to be adopted to encourage them to invest in the sector”.

The other major party, which released its manifesto yesterday, promises to increase budgetary allocations to 6 percent of GDP (a long standing demand of activists), but makes no mention of the private sector at all.  And for the rest, the fact that nearly half the children in this country attend a school under private (including NGO) management is clearly not good enough reason to improve the environment in which they function.  Indeed, two of them – the Party-Not-On-The-The-Right, and it’s competitor, the newest entrant into electoral politics – actually talk about increasing supervision and control over private schools, as if things weren’t bad enough already!

In many ways, this is a reflection of the way in which education has been viewed within the establishment all these years.  In a reaction to the opening up of the economy post-1992 and the acceptance of international aid for funding the District Primary Education Programme (and similar projects in the States), the education establishment moved to the far left, arguing that it was the sole responsibility of government not only to regulate and supervise, but also to deliver education services to its citizens.  This position has hardened further in recent years, even as growth of the economy resulted in the creation of a middle class with increased aspirations for their children that caused them to move away from poorly performing government schools to private ones that were more accountable.  Even the judiciary has succumbed to the persuasion of this argument, holding in innumerable judgments that private schools have little or no entitlements at all.  The result has been increasingly stringent regulation and the imposition of unreasonable standards and rules, all leading to increased rent collection at various levels, but little actual improvement on the ground.

The trouble is that the so-called private sector in education is mostly disorganised and disunited, as is normal when agencies are in competition with each other and not colluding.  In such circumstances, they lack a strong enough voice that would enable their concerns to be heard.  But does this mean that parents who choose to send their children to these schools – and indeed, the children themselves, all 120 million of them – also have no rights and can be ignored?

The school education landscape today has been divided into two distinct camps – the ‘us’ and ‘them’ of the government and non-government sectors, which allows government policies or national bodies like NCERT to target only children enrolled in the former.  In turn, this is mirrored in the manner in which policy is decided, with decisions affecting private schools taken with almost no contribution from them.

As we look forward to the formation of a new government at the Centre, this is an opportune moment to consider the manner in which we would like to heal the school sector, and get both the government and private agencies to work together.  The country urgently needs a vision for education that enables rather than restricts, treats the private sector as an equal partner, and leads to the fulfilment of every child’s right to quality education.  Indeed, this would be a good time for the new government to articulate a national education policy, given that the last one was published in 1986 (and amended in 1992).

The manner in which the new government addresses the problems of school education, and in particular, the privately managed parts of the sector, will also be an instance of resolving that classic dilemma of modern democracy – how do you conduct majority rule while protecting the rights of the minority.  In education, as in other sectors, the question before the new government will be one of safeguarding those rights, while “avoiding the tyranny of the majority[1]”.  Sadly, I do not see that vision in any of the manifestos I’ve read so far.



Disclaimer – It is not my intention to express a preference or otherwise for any of the parties contesting the elections; this blog post does not endorse any candidate or party for the ongoing General Elections.






[1] John Adams