An ode to my Teachers!
This is my first real life experience short story. So please forgive me for any mistake that might have been committed. I anticipate your valuable comments and critics, to better myself.
Disclaimer: All the charaters in this story are not imaginary and not at all fictious and any resemble to real people is very much anticipated and in fact they do refer to real life people.
Prelude to the story [meaning you can skip this paragraph if you find it boring and you still dont loose the story ] I was just a good for nothing, ever fearing, inferiority complexed, lazy introvert garbage. But if this garbage is redeisgned to a some what useful social activist its because of the designers, my teachers. I can confidently say that inspite of all the untidy start I was always a good student because God had blessed me just with good teachers. By completing my schooling in switching between 7 schools from PreKG to +12 and two more colleges, I suppose I have every authority to say that I never found any bad teachers. Everybody made a very good impact. When someone taught me how to someone else taught me how not to. With the typical Indian mentality me and my parents would have thought that I am going to school to study well and my teachers are just to help me earn good marks. Thanks to my KG teachers who broke the conception and taught me the that teachers are much bigger, right from the begining.
The Story :
I suppose I was doing my 1st standard and my brother was doing his LKG in Holy cross matriculation school, Valasarawakkam. Our correspondant was our pricipal too who cares so much about us and his wife was also equally caring for the students. We used to call her HM. I used to take lunch with my brother near the play ground. I had the huge responsibility of taking care of him inside the school campus ….. my mom’s order. I am usually generous enough to give time to my stomach to start digestion before I could even finish eating. But people always mistake it and call me a slow eater.
Even that day’s lunch was such an occasion of my generousity and my brother dutifully mimiced me on that day. Our school mates finished their lunch in the meanwhile and got busy with the routine duty of “running and catching” in the sandy playground. There were kids playing everywhere and it was so confusing to find out who is playing with whom. At times a student used to catch friend who is playing someother game with some other team. Yet it was all fun. I played the major role, the great spectator for everybody. Thanks to my slow eating …err … oops .. generosity.
Suddenly a boy, a runner, from no where, springing from a tree branch and started running towards me. There was another boy, the catcher, who was speeding up to catch him from the side and was running towards a tree behind me. The runner immediately spotted the plot and applied his speed brakes just before me with a big screeeeeech!! The laws of newton was actually out of syllabus for my standard but, nevertheless, the laws never cared. The runner was successful in two things. Firstly in stopping before he catcher could reach him and dodged him. Secondly, in gushing a pile of sand towards me and my brother. It just left me wondering why my delicious home prepared curd rice tasted like sand. It took me ahilw to understand that the pile of sand sent towards us found refuge in our open lunch boxes. I look up just to find that brother’s condition was no better. There is a popular phrase in tamil called “putting sand in one’s food”, but the guy literally did it. Suddenly my sense of responsibility shook me informing that my brother will go hungry too without food. I was helpless.
Lucky for us God was with us and he had left a gaurdian angel to watch over us. The angel was none other than our HM. She was quietly witnessing everything from behind a pillar. The moment she found us in the pathetic situation she stepped out and gave an simple look towards the boy. The next moment the entire playground was left with an eerring silence and invariably everybody left to the class rooms. Our HM affectionately took us inside the principal’s room and started making arrangements for our lunch. In a short while plates arrived inside the Princi’s cabin, our class eachers were informed that we would be late for the afternoon classes, there was a tiffin carrier opened and each section of it with Rice, Sambar, Rasam, curd etc was place before us. My HM was watching over while our aaya was serving to us as though we were two big VIPs. My LKG brother went to the extend of asking for ghee for the rice, which my HM replied with a big laugh and our aaya duly acompanied her. In the end she enquired if the food was good and if it was enough. If happilied gave back a “Yess Miss” with a smile which reflected in her face too. My broter threw a bigger smile. The food was really delicious and captivating. But more captivating were the kind and affectionate look of my HM who almost resembled my granny at that time.
For the next two days I was wondering which was the hotel where my HM would have ordered for such a tasty food which arrived almost instantly to school. The third day our school aaya found us going to lunch. She sttod in the corridor for us to reach her affectionately inquired about our well being. She fondly adviced us not have lunch near the play ground. She added with a laugh that if we do so our HM might have to forego one more lunch. The truth struck me just then. The food was never ordered from any hotel, forthere was no good hotel in the vicinity. Our HM infact have given up her own lunch for us. Earlier I have seen such an act of kindness only from my mom and dad. she obsolutely had no necessity to give all the food to the two of us. She could have atleast reserved something for her or could have ordered something for us from a cheap hotel. She even avoid outside food, which will leave her go fasting if she gave up her lunch for us. but she never minded and all the more she never even showed a stint of it in her face. Moreover, she was very happy like a mother, to see us eating. I wondered if we all had one more mother at school. This permanently rose the high of respect I had for teachers and I started looking at my teachers as my mother herself. This incident was the image that struck in my mind when, later in my college, I came across a proverb,”Parents are the first teachers and teachers are the second parents”. I humbly bow before her for the mark she had made in me.
– Kuzhalavan (Murlidaran Raman)
This is my first real life experience short story. So please forgive me for any mistake that might have been committed. I anticipate your valuable comments and critics, to better myself.
Disclaimer: All the charaters in this story are not imaginary and not at all fictious and any resemble to real people is very much anticipated and in fact they do refer to real life people.
Prelude to the story [meaning you can skip this paragraph if you find it boring and you still dont loose the story ] I was just a good for nothing, ever fearing, inferiority complexed, lazy introvert garbage. But if this garbage is redeisgned to a some what useful social activist its because of the designers, my teachers. I can confidently say that inspite of all the untidy start I was always a good student because God had blessed me just with good teachers. By completing my schooling in switching between 7 schools from PreKG to +12 and two more colleges, I suppose I have every authority to say that I never found any bad teachers. Everybody made a very good impact. When someone taught me how to someone else taught me how not to. With the typical Indian mentality me and my parents would have thought that I am going to school to study well and my teachers are just to help me earn good marks. Thanks to my KG teachers who broke the conception and taught me the that teachers are much bigger, right from the begining.
The Story :
I suppose I was doing my 1st standard and my brother was doing his LKG in Holy cross matriculation school, Valasarawakkam. Our correspondant was our pricipal too who cares so much about us and his wife was also equally caring for the students. We used to call her HM. I used to take lunch with my brother near the play ground. I had the huge responsibility of taking care of him inside the school campus ….. my mom’s order. I am usually generous enough to give time to my stomach to start digestion before I could even finish eating. But people always mistake it and call me a slow eater.
Even that day’s lunch was such an occasion of my generousity and my brother dutifully mimiced me on that day. Our school mates finished their lunch in the meanwhile and got busy with the routine duty of “running and catching” in the sandy playground. There were kids playing everywhere and it was so confusing to find out who is playing with whom. At times a student used to catch friend who is playing someother game with some other team. Yet it was all fun. I played the major role, the great spectator for everybody. Thanks to my slow eating …err … oops .. generosity.
Suddenly a boy, a runner, from no where, springing from a tree branch and started running towards me. There was another boy, the catcher, who was speeding up to catch him from the side and was running towards a tree behind me. The runner immediately spotted the plot and applied his speed brakes just before me with a big screeeeeech!! The laws of newton was actually out of syllabus for my standard but, nevertheless, the laws never cared. The runner was successful in two things. Firstly in stopping before he catcher could reach him and dodged him. Secondly, in gushing a pile of sand towards me and my brother. It just left me wondering why my delicious home prepared curd rice tasted like sand. It took me ahilw to understand that the pile of sand sent towards us found refuge in our open lunch boxes. I look up just to find that brother’s condition was no better. There is a popular phrase in tamil called “putting sand in one’s food”, but the guy literally did it. Suddenly my sense of responsibility shook me informing that my brother will go hungry too without food. I was helpless.
Lucky for us God was with us and he had left a gaurdian angel to watch over us. The angel was none other than our HM. She was quietly witnessing everything from behind a pillar. The moment she found us in the pathetic situation she stepped out and gave an simple look towards the boy. The next moment the entire playground was left with an eerring silence and invariably everybody left to the class rooms. Our HM affectionately took us inside the principal’s room and started making arrangements for our lunch. In a short while plates arrived inside the Princi’s cabin, our class eachers were informed that we would be late for the afternoon classes, there was a tiffin carrier opened and each section of it with Rice, Sambar, Rasam, curd etc was place before us. My HM was watching over while our aaya was serving to us as though we were two big VIPs. My LKG brother went to the extend of asking for ghee for the rice, which my HM replied with a big laugh and our aaya duly acompanied her. In the end she enquired if the food was good and if it was enough. If happilied gave back a “Yess Miss” with a smile which reflected in her face too. My broter threw a bigger smile. The food was really delicious and captivating. But more captivating were the kind and affectionate look of my HM who almost resembled my granny at that time.
For the next two days I was wondering which was the hotel where my HM would have ordered for such a tasty food which arrived almost instantly to school. The third day our school aaya found us going to lunch. She sttod in the corridor for us to reach her affectionately inquired about our well being. She fondly adviced us not have lunch near the play ground. She added with a laugh that if we do so our HM might have to forego one more lunch. The truth struck me just then. The food was never ordered from any hotel, forthere was no good hotel in the vicinity. Our HM infact have given up her own lunch for us. Earlier I have seen such an act of kindness only from my mom and dad. she obsolutely had no necessity to give all the food to the two of us. She could have atleast reserved something for her or could have ordered something for us from a cheap hotel. She even avoid outside food, which will leave her go fasting if she gave up her lunch for us. but she never minded and all the more she never even showed a stint of it in her face. Moreover, she was very happy like a mother, to see us eating. I wondered if we all had one more mother at school. This permanently rose the high of respect I had for teachers and I started looking at my teachers as my mother herself. This incident was the image that struck in my mind when, later in my college, I came across a proverb,”Parents are the first teachers and teachers are the second parents”. I humbly bow before her for the mark she had made in me.
– Kuzhalavan (Murlidaran Raman)
