When I boarded the bus for a college field trip to Pancha Kanya Secondary School in Dakshinkali Municipality-8, Chyamalle, I had only a vague idea of what to expect.
Arriving at Pancha Kanya Secondary School, I was immediately struck by the sweet, lovely atmosphere that enveloped the place. Dozens of curious eyes peeked from the schoolyard as our group approached. The children greeted us with shy smiles and polite bows, their innocence shining through every glance. All of them were Tamang children, and many wore simple, tidy school uniforms with pride. Their giggles and whispers created a melody of youthful energy. At that moment, I could sense a genuine warmth and a close-knit community spirit—everyone seemed to know each other like family.
My friend Semona Bhattarai and I had volunteered to conduct a special session for the sixth graders. We stepped into the Grade 6 classroom, greeted by 16 eager faces (six girls and 10 boys, all around 11 or 12 years old). Some children murmured “Namaste” while pressing their palms together, and we returned the greeting warmly.
We had a little free time to just talk with the students. They crowded around us in the courtyard, eager to share their names, their hobbies, and bits of their lives. There was a contagious excitement in the air as the kids realized we genuinely wanted to hear from them. Despite our linguistic differences, we managed to communicate through simple Nepali, a few Tamang words I picked up, and a lot of hand gestures and laughter. In those casual chats, I learned so much more than I expected from these young minds.
One of the most memorable parts of our conversation was when I asked a group of children what they dreamed of becoming when they grew up. Their answers were simple, honest, and beautiful. One boy piped up that he wanted to become a driver like his father, steering big buses or trucks on the mountain roads. Another shy girl mentioned she hoped to operate a dozer (bulldozer) because she had seen one clearing a landslide once and it impressed her. A couple of boys proudly said they wanted to join the army to serve the country and protect their village.
These weren’t the typical answers I’d hear from city kids, who often talk about being doctors or engineers or pilots. Instead, each child’s dream reflected the life and the heroes they saw in their own community. Their ambitions, though thumble, shone with sincerity and practicality.
Hearing these dreams made me reflect on my own upbringing and aspirations. As an urban college student, I realized I had grown up with so many privileges I took for granted- english- medium schools, computer labs, and endless options for my future. Here were kids whose ambitions were shaped by the immediate world around them, and they were no less passionate about their goals.
It was an eye-opening moment for me. I recognized that the reality of Nepal lies beyond the bubble of my city life. The majority of Nepal’s population lives in communities like this Tamang village, where resources are limited, lifestyles are simple, and dreams are woven from daily life and family traditions. That afternoon, these children gave me a precious gift: a genuine glimpse into the heart of my country that I had never truly seen before.
As our time at Pancha Kanya Secondary School came to an end, the entire Grade 6 class gathered to bid us farewell. The students presented us with small tokens of appreciation—some had picked wildflowers from the hillside, and a few had drawn little goodbye cards with pencil sketches of smiling faces. I even got a tight goodbye hug from the once-shy boy who had asked me for a hug earlier.
My heart felt full and ached a little at the same time; I was touched by their gesture and sad to part ways. On the bus ride back to the city, I sat by the window, quietly replaying the day’s events in my mind. The mountains slowly gave way to clusters of buildings, but I knew I was not the same person who had left that morning. This field trip had quietly transformed me.
Prashansa Sharma
BA, Thames International College
