The worst thing about that match from Portugal’s perspective ? They needed a win for an easier knockout bracket yet Martinez continued to sit in a passive 5-4-1 deep block not pushing for a goal. AND the deep block wasn’t even compact & Colombia should’ve won. Roberto Martinez…
Okay, I am taking your question as an opportunity to delve a little bit into the recent history of education in Nepal and recount my own school days.
What she's wearing is not exactly a suit but a standard private-school uniform in Nepal: a formal white shirt, slacks (or a pleated skirt), navy socks, black shoes, and a tie and belt with a pattern or badge unique to your school. For winter, there may also be an optional blazer (with metal buttons) that'll make this uniform feel more formal. Such a dress code in private schools in Nepal is a direct influence of British public schools and is fairly common in Commonwealth countries and former British colonies. Please note that 'public schools' in Britain refer to (often elite) private schools.
Of course, Nepal is neither a commonwealth country nor a former colony, so why do we have such dress codes? It's primarily due to our geographic and cultural proximity to India, particularly Darjeeling. Some of the oldest and most prestigious boarding schools in Asia were established in Darjeeling during the mid-to-late 1800s. Most of these early schools were Jesuit, but since they catered to the British elite living in the subcontinent and operated under British rule, they were largely modelled after prestigious British public schools such as Eton and Harrow and cultivated British upper-class traditions and sensibilities.
Many Nepali children from well-to-do families, especially in Eastern Nepal, attended these schools and absorbed these sensibilities within the context of schooling (if I am not mistaken, King Birendra attended St Joseph’s North Point, as did the former king of Bhutan). In the latter half of the twentieth century, a smattering of similar schools began to emerge in Nepal itself. Many were either Jesuit institutions or founded by individuals with ties to Darjeeling, or by members of the Nepali diaspora returning from Burma. This continued for three or four decades, but it was only in the early 1990s, when Nepal embarked on economic liberalisation and developed a critical mass of teachers capable of instructing in English, that private, for-profit schools truly began to proliferate across the country.
These newly established schools largely catered to the non-elites who, for the first time in the country’s history, were beginning to have some disposable income and were choosing to spend it on their children’s education. To appeal to these aspirational parents, distinguish themselves from poorly run government schools, and signal their superiority, private schools emulated Darjeeling boarding schools as closely as possible.
Of course, the easiest thing to emulate was the strict enforcement of a school uniform; the other was a heavy emphasis on English as a language of instruction. We got caned if found speaking Nepali in school, except for the 40 minutes during the Nepali period (though I believe corporal punishment has since been outlawed). But that's not it, we have all sorts of British mumbo jumbo. On Fridays, which are reserved for sports or PT, students wear all white, including white canvas shoes (wearing all white for sport being a very British upper-class tradition — think Wimbledon or Test cricket). In some schools, students are divided into houses with house-specific uniforms that must be worn on designated occasions. There are daily morning assemblies and prayers (perhaps a Jesuit influence), as well as uniform inspections to check whether nails are trimmed, shoes polished, and skirts and slacks are of the proper length. At my school, the morning assemblies were particularly gruelling. Our principal was from Darjeeling and apparently had a military background. Every day, he would scream “stand at ease” and “attention” at an assembly of more than 1,000 students until we stomped the ground in perfect unison and loudly enough to satisfy him.
What I am describing may sound like a rare elite institution, but this was in fact a fairly standard, run-of-the-mill, private, for-profit school that admitted anyone willing and able to pay a monthly fee of around USD 5. The emulation of Darjeeling schools was so common and often so mindless that many schools would name themselves as 'boarding' even when they were not. In fact, where I grew up, 'boarding' simply meant a private school with English as the language of instruction and 'school' was reserved for government-run schools. I remember being confused as a kid when elders asked me if I attended a 'boarding' or a 'school.'
In any case, the primary purpose of these schools was not to instil British upper-class sensibilities in students, but rather to teach English and cultivate a culture of erudition. The uniform was merely a relic of the colonial era that these schools inherited and used to signal seriousness and quality. Most parents who sent their children to such schools were not themselves highly educated (and certainly did not know much English), and so relied on these signals to judge the quality of the schools. The uniforms also made it more difficult to signal social status through clothing, which was undoubtedly a positive feature in schools like mine, where students came from a wide range of social backgrounds. My circle of friends ranged from the children of industrialists to those of factory workers, though most were probably the children of low-ranking civil servants.
The expansion of access to English-language education through private, for-profit schools during the 1990s was a genuine turning point in the Nepali education sector — one that is rarely discussed, let alone sufficiently appreciated. Private schools emerged across a wide range of price points, from a few dollars a month to several hundred, allowing parents to choose schools based on their financial means. The first school I attended had bamboo walls, a tin roof, and earthen floors, and cost no more than two or three dollars a month at today’s exchange rate. What these schools shared, and what distinguished them from government schools, were the use of English as the language of instruction, a strict dress code, and an emphasis on discipline. And most of them, I think, succeeded in what they set out to do.
Despite Nepal’s relatively small population, Nepalis now constitute some of the largest communities of international students in the Anglosphere — particularly in the United States and Australia, where I believe they rank among the top five. This may not be ideal from the perspective of the home country, but for individuals seeking upward mobility, learning English undoubtedly opened many doors. I suspect things might have improved even further, particularly in rural areas, had the Maoists not targeted private schools in the name of eliminating bourgeois education during the civil war.
Of course, these systems were not perfect, and one can certainly debate the necessity of all the fluff and dated colonial traditions. I suspect my parents would have been under less financial strain had there been a little less of both. I, personally, look back on my school days with nothing but fondness, and I would not wish to change a thing. This little lady here might well be having the best time of her life without even realising it — I wish someone told her.
Slanguage #14
Vibe Check: Omnilingual
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