Out of India: A Montessori BeginningOpinionLakshmi A. KripalaniEditor's Note: This begins a series of columns in which Ms. Kripalani looks back over her career as a Montessori educator. I worked with Dr. Montessori in Karachi, India, during World War II. She had invited me to join her in her work. I was interested but asked for time to get my own school prepared and convince my father to permit me to go. At about this time India got its freedom and my family became refugees. In the next months, life got so complicated that I could not even afford a stamp to mail a letter to them. Dr. Montessori and her son, Mario, returned to India and realized that my parents needed me more than they did. By 1948 and we were living in an Indian refugee camp. My brother had a temporary job and quarters in Victoria Gardens, Bombay. Our family was not allowed to leave the camp, so we could come together as a family only on weekends. One evening we were sitting outside, enjoying the garden. A psychic passed. My father normally would not have engaged him, but this time he allowed him to speak. He looked at my youngest sister and said, "Your airplane is ready and you are going to America." He told my second sister that she would go, but later. Then he looked at me. He shook his head and said I could turn my rosary all I wanted, but that I would not go. I did not mind. I had no desire to go. However my sisters started to tease me. One day I got so annoyed that I told them, "Let's see if I do turn my rosary. Let's see who goes to America." The matter was then forgotten for nearly 15 years. It is 1962 and our family has made progress. Then my mother died in an accidental fire in the kitchen of our home. I dealt with the police investigation and everything else. I went out of my mind and moved like a zombie. I wrote to Mario Montessori, giving him the news of mother's passing away. My brother, who was living with his own family in Calcutta, visited. He realized that I had shouldered too much responsibility and volunteered to take responsibility for my father, allowing me to pursue other interests. My father refused the offer, as he did not want me to live alone. Instead, he wanted me to leave my job and my quarters to rejoin the family. This created an impasse. I was not ready to exchange my freedom and my prospects for life with my sister-in-law without a plan for my future. My brother took a risk. He obtained a transfer at a financial loss to come and be with us. This, however, did not make life any easier for anyone. We were still in mourning when my aunt visited us from Madras. She brought me Time magazine, with an article about Nancy Rambusch's work with Montessori education in the United States. She urged me to find out if there was an opportunity for me. I didn't respond. She pushed. She handed me paper and pen. I finally agreed. I wrote to Nancy that I was a protégé of Dr. Montessori. I wrote that I was happy to learn that she was reviving Montessori's work and asked how it was progressing. I folded the letter and gave it to my aunt to mail. Before he got my letter, Mario visited the United States. Nancy showed him my letter to her and asked him if he knew me. He said he was delighted to know that I had survived. He told her to sponsor me, as I would be an asset in the training of teachers. Two months later I received a wire from Iowa City. Was I interested in starting a Montessori school in Iowa? I read the wire but did not understand what it meant. I left the wire on the radio. My sister-in-law read it. She was more exited than I was. She asked if I was going to do anything about it. I asked her what I could do when my father was in such poor condition. At the dinner table my brother whispered to me that despite objections from my father, he had arranged with a friend in Calcutta for me to take a badly needed vacation there. For the first time during that tragic period, I smiled. I said, "Brother, if I need a vacation I can go to the United States." He thought I was joking. His wife showed him the invitation on the radio. With his mouth full, he got up, read the invitation and sped out the door to write for details. When they came, the financial offer was not great. Still, my brother insisted that I accept the opportunity. He knew I badly needed the change of scenery. Besides even if the offer was not great I would have a valuable experience. Maybe I would have the opportunity to study at a college for a year or so. Next I had to consult Dr. Mukherjee, who had gone out of his way to help me gain admission to a master's program in experimental psychology. I explained the opportunity. The people in Iowa had told me that I was the only teacher in the world who could help them. He was impressed, but disappointed that I would leave in the middle of the year. He advised me to finish the year, as it would carry more weight. I tended to agree, but the assistant dean advised me differently. He was educated in the States. He said, "In the States today you would the only Montessori teacher. Tomorrow you would be nobody. Take the opportunity and run. You can study there, and that would compensate for whatever you will miss here." Both advisors were correct. It was not at all easy to decide. It was difficult to leave my father. With mother dead, he would feel that he had to protect me. He did not accept the fact that I was over 40 years old and needed to function on my own. It was almost like tossing a coin. My brother prevailed. His argument was that it was the only way to be free from father's control; I would not survive long if he were to interfere with every part of my life. I took leave for a year and applied for a visa. I was promised that I would get it by the middle of October. I handed over my responsibilities to my assistant and went to the school office to collect my last paycheck. The administrative officer gave me a run-around and never paid me. When I went to obtain my visa, they told me that it could not be approved in Bombay and the papers had gone to Delhi. I decided to go to there. My father urged me not to travel to Delhi alone. I was shocked. For the first time I shouted at him. "Do you know how, with whom or where I would be traveling in the States? You cannot stop me now from doing what needs to be done." Tears fell down from his eyes and he finally realized that he had lost his "little girl." I got into the train. There was one other lady in the compartment. After a while she said, "Pretty daughter, what kind of loads are you carrying on your shoulder?" The word "pretty" surprised me and I said, "I am not pretty. My sisters and sister-in-law are pretty." She replied, "Were they your sister and sister-in-law who came to see you off?" I nodded. She assured me that I was wrong. I had a figure that the others did not have and that it was not the color of the skin that defines beauty. This led us to further conversation as to where I was headed. I shared with her my concern about the visa. She told me she was a congresswoman. She gave me a note and told me if I had a problem getting the visa, I could see her. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Next morning I went to the visa office. Officials denied that they had received my application. In India, even today, nothing moves without bribery and I was not ready to get stuck in that process. I showed them the note from the congresswoman, but it did not work immediately. I insisted on seeing her. They gave all kind of excuses but I refused to budge. After a few hours' hassle, they brought a package of letters, pretending that it had just arrived and that they would see if my application was inside. They expected that, as it was so urgent for me, I would open my purse-but I had nothing to offer. Finally, by late evening, I got my passport and visa. I returned home the next day and arranged to fly on Nov. 1, 1962. This was my first journey by plane. I was airsick all the way. I could not take even a drop of liquid. I landed in London late at night and managed to sleep a little while. My brother had arranged for a friend to help me buy a winter coat. When I went to his shop he was not available. His assistant had no information, nor was she in a mood to help. Realizing my situation, she walked me to the nearest store. I had neither the time nor the means to do anything but to pick whatever I could afford with the money I had.. I rushed back to the airport. I landed in Chicago. I was lost in the hustle and bustle of a very large airport. London airport was comparatively small. The worst part was that nobody could understand my accent and I could not understand anyone. I had been instructed to catch a train to Iowa. I took the instructions to the information booth. The individual in charge laughed and said, "You have come all the way from India and this close to your destination you want a train?!" He did not explain anything further. He wrote a ticket and took me to the waiting area. He told me to follow the people when they boarded the plane. I was puzzled. I was carrying all my albums, handwritten notes from Dr. Montessori's lectures, my briefcase and my purse. I sat wondering where I was headed. I followed the few passengers onto the local flight. I landed at 1:30 a.m. on Nov. 2 at the Cedar Rapids airport. The journey of the second half of my life had begun. When we landed the other passengers rushed out. I could hardly stand up to collect my things or put on that heavy coat that I bought in London. The stewardess helped me get off the plane. I saw two ladies almost in nightclothes, looking for a lady from India. I suppose they expected someone with a hunchback, pigtails and no coat. I was expecting the president of the Iowa Montessori Society and the wife of the president of the school, dressed like movie stars. We finally identified each other. We greeted each other in amazement. They could not believe that someone coming from India could have her hair in a permanent and wear such a costly coat. For all of us, that was the first of many surprises. Next: Starting a school in Iowa as a cultural outsider. Copyright 2004 L. A. Kripalani Lakshmi A. Kripalani was trained by and has worked with Dr. Maria Montessori and Mario Montessori. She is an AMI Montessori teacher trainer and consultant. Dr. Montessori's 1946 Lectures-Karachi, India, transcribed and edited by Lakshmi Kripalani, is now available through the Houston Montessori Center, 713 464-5791. Miss Kripalani is available for lectures, workshops or consultations. lkripal...@comcast.net |
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