Thursday, 17 November 2011
Tribute to a Teacher - My Blog Begins...
Teachers are a gift of a lifetime. They make us what we are today… I would like to begin blogging by a tribute to my teacher. I owe a lot to her for what I am today.
Back to my class 11 year 1996. An average student I must say, coming to a CBSE School from the state syllabus, with all the qualities of being a nut. The CBSE School was a cultural shock. Everyone was fast and the only thing I was fast was with my chattering. Being a Commerce guy I needed to be taking accounts sessions which was a hard spot. Even today let me confess, I go berserk with all numbers other than mobile numbers. So here comes in a very strict teacher into the class who was to instruct us accounts. Not joking friends she was a terror. We used to pray for her to be on leave. The minute she enters the class breaths go up and as she exits we all come back to normal. In the course of time my slowness got noticed and I had a privilege to sit on the teacher’s desk during her hours. It was stressful and the punishments were also bad. I used to think that Ma’am had some ill feeling towards me. Ok I thought.
It so happens that I sing, not very well but yes a bit. I got selected in the western music team for the year. School became enjoyable. Music was taking a lot of time. Michael Jackson’s Heal the world was in full swing practice for a month. We decided the clothes to wear, the material selected and at one point a teacher comes in and changes the entire team structure and three of us saw us out of the team. At age 15 I don’t think I would have gone disheartened so much. My family was very very supportive. It was all through and I was cool.
The competition day came in. my dad and mom stood by me. I went to school on a cold Saturday morning in mid December. I could not function but I remember the words my dad said, "Son, this is just a small battle. Win it and you will grow." School was all usual tough Naveen was so unusual. As the schedule the accounts class came and we had a two hour schedule. Ma’m walked in and I walked to my special seat. She gave us some accounting problems and all of us were at work. I am not exaggerating I just wrote the date and sat on my seat. Ma’am came once saw my book no response. The second time also she came not a word, again a third, nothing happened. At this point one of my classmates who went for the programme came back and said they got the first prize. My eyes watered but I did not burst out. The so called strict, cruel teacher walked up to my desk and held me on my shoulder and patted me. I felt the love, the genuineness and care of a teacher flow in through the same hands she used to hit me. I changed. I changed from the slow, poor student category to one of the good students in class. From then I had had no looking back.
The word teacher if mis-spelt becomes a cheater. Even after 15 years of leaving school I still meet my mother at school my dear Teacher Ms Rajini Anoop. She is a true asset I earned over my years of being a student.