The last two days

The last two days have been so consuming.

It all started when my childhood friend Zeba congratulated me on my retirement in our Loreto group. Within no time, messages started pouring in from all parts of the world.

The entire evening, till late night, the mobile kept ringing tirelessly. Voice calls, video calls, ordinary calls, Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp messages, overflowing. To reciprocate everyone’s zeal and enthusiasm I kept answering every call. If I missed one, I called back. I typed hundreds of thank-you messages, and sometimes lengthy ones. Friends, relatives, and especially the old students didn’t leave a stone unturned to make my day so special, and at the same time to register their presence.

A friend, Shobhna from Varanasi, called and said:

Teacher ka energy aur activeness dekh kar school walon ko chahiye retire karna. Tum to abhi chaar-paanch saal aur padha sakti ho. Bahut kshamta hai tum mein.

I was moved by her feelings and her love for me.

Students sent lengthy letters thanking me and acknowledging my effort in shaping their future. Some sent crying emojis. Some shared sweet memories.

I am having the feeling of winning the highest award, the Padma Shri. So much love, care, and heartfelt messages. I am in a fix. I pondered: do I really deserve this?

Teaching was by chance for me, as I couldn’t be a doctor, my first choice. Later, teaching became my passion. I realised how difficult and important it is to handle human lives. My first set of students, class prep, 1992–93. Smart, sweet, chubby, chirpy, cute, naughty, shy kids. Monica, Padmini, Swapnil, Rahul, Garima, Mrityunjay. They still flash. The memory is so fresh.

I realised it would be a challenging job, so I made up my mind not to give up.

Days, months, years passed by and I found myself going at ease and having fun. I had discovered the tricks, so I never had a problem with any child in thirty years. One guru mantra: if the students love you, they will automatically love your subject.

I started having fun and games before starting to teach, left the fun halfway, promising to continue after studies, and this worked. You know, you can easily fool the students. They trust you a lot.

Jokes, drama, mono-acting, punches were an inseparable part of my day-to-day teaching. Even in the engagement classes we had board games or oral activities which kept the students engaged. Neither was I ever bored with the students, nor did I allow them to feel so. Throughout the school days I created my own new games. God only knows how I could come up with silly but funny games which the students enjoyed so much. No one ever got time to think about when the class would be over. Many a time the bell rang and the next teacher reminded me that she had to come in.

Three decades. Almost half of my age.

Going to school has become a habit. I have started missing it so much.

The morning bell. Assembly. The unending “Good mooorning, Ma’am.” The silly, stupid complaints. Lame excuses for not doing the homework. Friends seeking permission at the same time for the washroom, assuming they have succeeded in fooling me. Demanding stars and smileys for good work and full marks. Intelligent ones suggesting a surprise test, being resisted by the others. Some hiding under the bench so that the question passes to someone else, later explaining that they were picking up a fallen pencil.

Every moment spent in the school was so special and memorable.

Some unexpected incidents shook me from inside.

A student of class 3. His copy had not been checked for the last two months. It was brought to my notice. I was furious. I scolded the student and told him to call his father. The student stood motionless. I said again, in a louder voice, “I want to meet your father. Call him tomorrow.”

The child, without lifting his head, softly spoke: “Ma’am, wo nahi aa sakte.”

I said, “Bolna Ma’am ne bulaya hai.”

He replied, “Wo mar gaye hain.”

I was dumbstruck. Speechless. Shivering. What have I done? Within seconds I organised myself and said, “Koi baat nahi. I will check your copy.” I struggled to find a chocolate in my bag, to overcome my guilt, and requested him to sit down. What a shameful act I did. I was petrified.

From the very next period, in every class, I gave the students a paragraph to write about “My Family”, in order to know them. Just a KYS: know your students. It worked. Another boy of class 3 A came and whispered in my ear, “Ma’am, mummy nahi hai. Bua ke baare mein likhoon?”

It was a very delicate situation, handling the feelings of a young mind. I told him that from today he could call me Mummy. I would take care of him.

These incidents taught me to be sensible and sensitive in the classroom. It is not a place only for questions and answers, meanings, and reciting a poem. We need to go far beyond this, especially in their formative age. You have to take strong decisions also, for their welfare. At times there are many slow learners, and it really becomes a challenge to balance the class.

I got one such class where half the students were average and slow learners. It was very difficult to manage them. I tried my best but failed, so I pretended to be angry and stopped talking to them. I used to enter the class, write the instructions on the board, and quietly sit down and watch them. “Do your work fast. Write neatly. Get your copies checked.” And so on.

It worked for me. It was magic. No nuisance in the class. Pin-drop silence. Everyone in the race to please me. After three days of unnatural behaviour I came back to my original form, knowing that the current session would end soon.

O God! What a farewell I got from this class. Beyond all imagination. Cake, gifts, cards. The board decorated with precision. We had a wonderful time, but as the bell rang the children thronged to hug me and touch my feet. Some started sobbing, which soon turned into a loud cry. It was infectious. Almost everyone joined this ritual. Somehow I controlled myself and, pacifying them, stepped out of the class. The next period the students were in no mood to study. The teacher made a video of the crying students and sent it to me. Unbelievable. Red eyes, full of tears. This class of average students showered the most love and gratitude. They were really sad.

To compensate for all this, every exam day I visited their class and made them feel that I too loved them.

Some of the students came to thank me on the report-card day. Some took pictures with me. I readily accepted to pose with everyone. That was the last day I met my dear students.