Right to Education for 'EWS' children: What lies ahead after the age of 14

It is a significant moment for the Right To Education, exposing its vulnerabilities while also shedding light on its positive impact

Going to school in cosmopolitan Delhi can be a lesson in national integration. Parents find notes from school requesting that their child dress up in colours of the national flag for Independence Day, in traditional Indian wear for Diwali or as little Christmas trees on December 25. This is not the only evidence of schools being a microcosm of a larger social reality. Social biases — especially those related to class and economic strata — are burdens that students carry along with their heavy backpacks.

These disparities have perhaps become more striking in the past nine years — ever since Section 12(1)(c) of the Right to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009, popularly invoked as the Right to Education (RTE) provision, mandated that 25 per cent of seats at private, unaided and non-minority schools be reserved for students from “economically weaker sections” (EWS) of society. The RTE mandates free education at these schools for children from the age of six up to 14.

After a successful nine years, at least in Delhi, the first batch of EWS students has reached the age of 14. It is a significant moment for the RTE, exposing its vulnerabilities while also shedding light on its positive impact.

For Babli Kumar, mother of a seven-year-old girl, the only way to educate her daughter would have been to send her to the local Delhi government school, like her older children. “I can’t explain what it is, but I feel as though it is all right for me to now have ambition for her,” she says. Her daughter has seven years to go in the system before Kumar and her husband will have to start bearing the entire expense of her education. “But I’m sure we’ll find a way to support her. I’ve seen the difference and I don’t want my daughter to become a domestic helper like me,” she says. Others are less optimistic.

Amit Singh, a driver with a family in Gurugram, is happy that his 10-year-old son attends a coveted private school, but wonders if it is the best solution for the family. “It is one thing to give him the best education. But people like us don’t belong there. What will my son do once he’s older?”

Ashok Agarwal, a Supreme Court lawyer and activist, believes that the only way the RTE can be truly successful is if it covers education right up to class XII. “You must remember that we are talking here only of Delhi, where we can hope to improve the system. In other states, we are still struggling to get private schools to even grant admission to EWS children,” he says. In schools where children are turning 14 and are being asked to pay the full fee, activists like Agarwal are trying to find a legal route to remedy the situation.

“If the government wants to bring quality to education, they should ensure the RTE covers pre-primary education too. And for sustainability, it must provide for a student’s schooling till he or she is 18,” explains Ambarish Rai, founder of the Right to Education Forum.

Where there is a strong private institution lobby in states such as Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh, there is also the question of inadequate funds from the central government. The Sarva Shikhsha Abhiyan, the official vehicle for the RTE, received a Budget allocation of Rs 261.23 billion, less than half the Rs 550 billion that the Ministry of Human Resource Development estimated would be needed. “With more than 84 million children still out of school, the lack of administrative will and finances only make it harder for the RTE,” says Rai.

He also believes that Delhi’s tryst with the RTE has been successful because it was the first test state, besides the push it received from the courts and citizen initiatives. “But schools often want to perpetuate an apartheid of sorts to keep themselves elite. This is why, in the absence of a system to monitor actual classroom interaction or the progress of EWS children, schools tend to get away with breaking the rules,” says Rai.

“State of the Nation”, a report compiled by the Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad, alongwith the Centre for Policy Research and the Central Square Foundation (CSF), suggests that only 11 states and one union territory have sought funds from the central government to implement the RTE. In most cases, the RTE covers only tuition and not other incidentals because respective states fix a sum for such expenses that the schools are reimbursed for and which may be grossly inadequate. Uniforms and books fall under this category. For instance, a Delhi school student’s uniform and books for the year may cost up to Rs 10,000, but the Delhi government only reimburses schools Rs 1,500 per student. “The schools have valid reasons to push back against admitting an EWS student because of delayed reimbursements or insufficient funds,” explains Bikkrama Daulet Singh, managing director at CSF. “We must also remember that most of the push back comes from elite CBSE schools — just 16,000 out of the 450,000 private schools in India.” And yet, he adds, “The schools cannot be fully blamed. Government regulation for private institutions is often just too invasive.”

“The RTE is an excellent provision in principle, but it has its problems,” warns Ameeta Mulla Wattal, principal of Springdales School, Pusa Road, in Delhi. “Even with a persistent and progressive state government, reimbursements and funds are hard to come by. In three or four years, 500 of the 2,000 students will be on an unpaid seat. How can a school sustain its operations without sufficient help from the government?”

The cost of integrating a student into the mainstream goes beyond tuition fees and uniform costs. For instance, Springdales encourages travel agents to offer free seats to EWS students as part of their corporate social responsibility programme. “Unfortunately, the RTE was a knee-jerk policy created by activists. It needs a more holistic approach, for which it needs to consult educational practitioners,” says Wattal.

Distinct from the private sector and government tussle, there is a more basic interaction that is fraught with tension — between an EWS family and a financially privileged one. Muneeza Naqvi, journalist and mother to two girls, often notices that EWS parents usually stand in their “own” corner when parents go to pick up their kids from school. “I can try to strike up a conversation, especially since I am not hesitant to reach out to new people. But unfortunately, you can’t socially engineer a situation like this,” she says.

Parent-teacher meetings are another social minefield when it comes to the “us versus them” attitude. “The two groups of parents rarely speak to each other. And while most teachers are sensitive, they seem to unwittingly also become patronising,” explains Naqvi. “Most EWS parents often avoid these situations. So they either turn up before the scheduled meeting or after other parents have left,” says a teacher at an elite private school in Delhi.

Technology, in so many ways a great leveller, often becomes a too-high hurdle for EWS families. In a WhatsApp- and email-led universe, where schools interact with parents over one digital platform or another, most EWS families are inevitably excluded. The onus, then, lies on the individual school to find a solution. “Some sensitive schools take the trouble of printing out communication and even translating it in Hindi before sending it to EWS parents,” says a primary school teacher in Gurugram. “I often ask them to show me their phones and, if they have a smartphone, I point them to the administrative office where they can find help setting up email and WhatsApp accounts,” she says.

It may be easier to overcome systemic changes, especially while dealing with parents who are adults. Even the classroom experience can be enhanced with schools offering accelerated classes, extra learning for underprivileged children and classroom buddies to help them navigate the coursework. But, as Naqvi points out, “As they grow older, something as trivial as a birthday party can be a difficult experience. It is hard both when the EWS kids are invited as well as when they are not.”

“In my experience, boys, with their rough-and-tumble attitude, find it easier to assimilate. Girls often get the rough end of the stick. Of course, both genders suffer from discriminatory remarks about being ‘smelly’, ‘dark’ or carrying ‘terrible tiffin’,” says the Gurugram teacher. A class IV student of her school would often come to meet her cousin in the primary wing. The teacher later learnt that the younger girl had no friends.

“This arrangement sometimes does more harm than good for EWS kids, especially in schools where the divide is so great,” says the Gurugram teacher. But the RTE has bigger battles to fight in terms of its national reach, increasing enrolment and ensuring a secure education and future for students after they turn 14. But for some, like the Delhi school teacher, this stringent law has had real impact. “The system is certainly not perfect. But when I meet the parents and see their gratitude and hope, it makes it all worth it,” she says.