When you were a kid ,you always wanted to grow up.As a grown up you always long to get back to your childhood.
I have lots of memories from childhood…of joy, laughter, sorrow, fear & abandonment.But I often wonder what was the first ever thing that I can remember from my childhood..I remember riding in front of my dad’s Yesdee bike. I was sitting in the front, so I must be really really small then and may be that was the first ever thing I remember.I remember going to watch ‘My dear kuttichatan 3D’ movie-I know I was 3 then because the movie got released in 1984.The next thing that’s coming to my mind is going to nursery school (preKG)with my cousin Vasu (we are of same age and were born just 15 days apart ) and of those school days I remember a lot!!
So honouring Teacher's day , today I chose to pen down few anecdotes from my life as a student and about my teachers .
Thinking about my nursery school-Amala ‘Baalaaraamam’ (meaning Kids’ Garden) ,the first picture that comes to my mind is of my Nursery school teacher. I think she was the head teacher and a nun. She was so kind and loving. After spending an year in Amala, we moved to the nearby LP school. Kids had to walk past the nursery school to get to the LP school. And me and Vasu walked more or less half a kilometer from home to reach the school. And I remember a day when we walked past the nursery school, our teacher was looking out through the wooden window of her classroom and waving at the kids passing by. For many days she used to stand by the window and look at the kids going and coming back from the school . That one day she waved at us too. Though I have only a vague memory of her face, that frame is very clear in my mind till today. I saw love and compassion in her eyes. I saw the kindness in her gentle smile .I saw that she was proud of her students who moved out from the nursery school and made it to the LP school. I may not recognize her if I meet her today, but she has a very special place in my heart as the first teacher I remember.She taught me to open the wooden windows of my heart and look beyond and see the world with compassion ,kindness and love..
On the 2nd year of my LP school, I was moved to a different city away from my hometown, parents & cousins to live with my aunt . And my schooling continued there for 9 long years . Though I was very sad about the separation, I had a blast during those school years and I enjoyed every bit of it. I think about the many teachers there , that I had the privilege to know & learn under them .
I always think about few of them not only in the teacher’s day but also in many occasions in my life.My scouts and guides teacher- she gave me the first responsibility of a position as a patrol leader & company leader of my school troop and taught me valuable lessons. My favorite Malayalam master in high school- he used to lend library books to few of his dear students on the last day of school year and let us keep the books for the entire summer vacation! I would have never read ‘The count of Monte Cristo’ – unabridged, without his thoughtfulness and I believe that was the first spark which ignited my literacy interest . There are many more faces for which I can’t get enough space to write. It feels good when I think about all the teachers who taught me at school . It feels even better when I hear that those teachers still remember me even after 15 years and inquire about me whenever they happen to meet my aunt.
Going to college was real liberation. Bunking the classes ,strolling through the vast college premises, hiding from principal, great friends ..And to me , studying in that women only college was the most hilarious & golden days of my entire life. I now feel sorry for showing disrespect to those teachers by not attending the classes though they were least cared whether all students attend the classes or not. Nevertheless there were a few who really cared about the students and wouldn’t let us cut classes. Well ,the confidence to bunk classes came from the realization that the missed lessons can be learned from the tuition teachers. We had to trade off all the freedom experienced in college at the tuition classes. But where I am now is also due to those great minds who coached me to sharpen my potential.
Engineering College was , well, no offence to anybody - more or less like a juvenile home! Where the management thought the universe will end if boys and girls talk to each other or come closer within the 5 feet perimeter . They were so conservative that there was an invisible rope that separated girls and boys under their watchful eyes. Friendship raised questioning glances and Love was a taboo! But it now feels all funny because in spite of all these, Friendships were bloomed or withered with time , Love blossomed or left few hearts broken and so life went on..
(I got lucky to get a true friend who stood by me on happy times and wiped my tears on sorrow, my room mate,soul mate & I owe it to her).
Though many of the teachers were just an year or two senior than us , many were really friendly and made life at the college a little easier. However I respect all my teachers who criticized me ,tried to correct my mistakes , helped me to learn, nurture my talents , shared their wisdom & knowledge. I can’t forget any of them .
“The dream begins with a teacher who believes in you, who tugs and pushes and leads you to the next plateau, sometimes poking you with a sharp stick called "truth”.
-R. ( Originally written on Wednesday, September 5, 2012 at 7:18pm )
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