The School of Joy 

July 12, 2025

Nomoshkar. This is how you greet people in Kolkata. It's the Bengali equivalent of namaste (a greeting in Hindi) and can be used to say both hello and goodbye. 

After breakfast, Olivia, Kim, and I loaded into an Uber and made our way to Barisha Janakalyan Vidyapith (BJV) for Girls (HS). Barisha refers to the neighborhood and Janakalyan refers to the road the school is located on. "Vidya" indicates education and "pith" indicates the place where you get something. Vidyapith is, therefore, the place where you get an education. The HS is shorthand for Higher Secondary, indicating this school teaches "Plus 2" grades, or students in grades 11 and 12. Not all "high schools" have this Higher Secondary designation. 

On the way in, we passed open markets where vendors scaled fish, peeled prawns, and displayed colorful arrays of fruits and vegetables.

BJV is a government-sponsored school where the medium of instruction is primarily Bengali and English, with some Hindi. Many of the 200 students come from marginalized castes, are orphans, or are survivors of trafficking. Families pay just $2 annually for their children to attend. “That’s hardly enough to paint the school walls,” Sharmila notes. To supplement the limited government resources, she engages in extensive fundraising efforts.

The school started as a thatched roof and mud house in its early days; in 1954, the school building we stood in was constructed. Another part of the school was added later, in the 2000s. 

Sharmila welcomed us in the Headmistress’s office, which receives government funding earmarked specifically for its upkeep. But she proudly shared that she spends that money beautifying the students’ spaces instead. Additionally, every decoration in her office, she told us, was created by students.

In fact, as you walk through the halls and classrooms of BJV, the students' artwork and creativity brighten each space. We began by visiting a classroom currently operating as an exhibition space for many of the students' crafts - pottery, bookmarks, handmade cards with paper cut-outs, embroidery, jute cross-stitch, and handmade calendars are just a small sample of the beautiful work displayed. The school also runs an entrepreneurship program that teaches the girls how to sell their creations during a January event called the Entrepreneurship Mela (mela = fair). 

Our tour allowed for brief visits to many classrooms. Students were variously engaged in learning about dance, domestic animals, nutrition, geography, and history (specifically, the “Gandhi era”). We met their teachers, posed for photos, and were whisked off to the next room.

We learned that many teachers voluntarily take on extra duties or classes out of love for the school and its students—“without so much as an extra dime,” as Sharmila put it. One computer teacher takes music lessons so she can teach music at the school; others manage the library. “We have a librarian vacancy, but no one has been appointed to the post in twenty years!” Sharmila exclaimed, noting this is not uncommon. The appointments given are often much less than the number of vacancies present—a major challenge for government and government-sponsored schools. 

In addition to their teaching duties, government teachers in West Bengal are also required to collect census data and to operate polling stations on election days. This can be a real source of dread, as assignments could place teachers anywhere in the state - not just in their home districts. 

At the end of the school day, we gathered with the teachers in the staff room. When one of my colleagues asked what they were most proud of, a teacher replied with deep conviction: “I have been here for 29 years. This school is a part and parcel of my life. It’s in my blood.” Others nodded vigorously in agreement.

Their pride in the school and its students was palpable. “Respect for teachers—respect for education in general—is much higher here than in the U.S.,” Sharmila observed, drawing on her experience as a Fulbrighter in Fairfax, Virginia. “It is seen as a real opportunity here.”

“Education is a luxury,” another teacher added. “Studies and love—the students get it all from here.”

Much of this ethos stems from Sharmila’s leadership. While her name means "shy," she is anything but. In 2017, she decided to pursue administration after growing frustrated with not being able to make decisions she believed were in the best interest of her students. Two years later, after completing the lengthy process, she chose to take up the Headmistress position at BJV.

Since then, she has worked hard to focus on achieving "what's best for the girls." Sharmila believes this includes: 

• Clean toilets

• Good classrooms

• A safe and beautiful environment 

The government would prefer she use funding to paint the exterior of the school. “Who is that for?” she asks. “It’s not for the girls inside. It’s about outside appearances.” Instead, she channels those funds into infrastructure that directly benefits the students’ education.

Returning to a theme from our earlier conversation, Sharmila emphasized again that student happiness is her priority. “Some parents might worry about grades. I ask them: Does your child come home with a smile? That’s what matters to me. If they’re smiling, they’re happy at school—and that’s what develops a lifelong learner.” In the City of Joy, it feels fitting to think of BJV as the School of Joy.

Our visit ended with a quick observation of the midday Saturday lunch being served. Students bring their own tiffin boxes, which they can either take home or enjoy communally in the classrooms. A community kitchen prepares the meal—today’s included curried lentils and potatoes. We were offered a small taste, and it was delicious.

We’ll return on Monday, when classes are back in session.

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