Teacher Teacher

I have these silly childhood glimpses in the name of memory where I would drape mom’s dupatta, pretending it to be a saree, pinning up the kitchen napkins in my locks for longer hair and stealing dad’s glasses to make up for an intelligent teacher. I can only now realise what a cartoon I must have looked. But then, it was after all childhood. I was supposed to eat mud and ring doorbells before running for my life. This was also the beginning of my favourite game, teacher-teacher.

 I don’t recollect the number of friends I dragged to sit in my imaginary class. However, I have vivid memories of the neat notes I scribbled on the roll-up black board which I treasured for a long time. I loved explaining, elaborating and simplifying the water cycle to my sleepy friends. Little did I know that one day, I will have longer hair and wear smart clothes with a pair of glasses and really deliver lectures at length. Little did I know, I could make learning simple and enjoyable for my students. Little did I believe that this profession could be the most amazing and challenging one ever!

There was a transition time, I was writing for a newspaper and was looking at teaching as a potential career option. I am not exactly kid-friendly and found it easy to associate with adult learners. I found that classrooms were much more than dull, closed matchboxes and serious places. I learnt that they could be full of energy, enthusiasm and interaction. I gained so many friends, well-wishers and peers that it felt more like a family who looked up to me with awe and respect. I found students who came from faraway lands, war torn countries, advanced Asian countries and even from the western world. I picked up basics of several languages and ended up teaching them a little of my own. I learnt to bond and be the professional I was supposed to be.

One of my most memorable classes with the Middle Easterners!

I learnt that a teacher’s class is not the textbook she teaches from, it’s the world that she explores and unfurls together with her learners. I think if you can connect with even the most shy ones, they blossom into the most fragrant flowers. And if you know why the last benchers are smiling when you just described a fatal plane crash, you know what’s happening back there! After all we teachers have been there too.

Lastly, after months and years of burning the midnight oil, the one thing I pray for is, to get away with the lethal code naming ceremony, like the ones we named our teachers based on the way they spoke, taught and murdered English!