Teachers’ Day

 August 2007

 2:00pm

 

 I stared at my mark sheet. Eleven-and-a-half on thirty it read in red ink at the top of the papers I was holding in my hands. My eyes stung. Keep it together! The noisy classroom did nothing to help my emotions. I looked at the supposed embodiment of knowledge near the blackboard. After giving me an earful, she was now pulling the ear of a fellow classmate. A bright orange saree with a sequined border, a larger-than-her-face bindi (transl.: ‘a decorative mark worn in the middle of the forehead’ in Hindi) and big spectacles on her nose completed the scary teacher look. Ofcourse she wouldn’t have meant to look scary but that is how my history teacher looked to me, then.

“Did you pass?” My best boy-friend pulled my hair from behind. I glared at him and his grin vanished into a pity smile. “Sorry Dude!” he patted my arm. I shrugged.

“She gave the topper three marks and me half-a-mark for the same answer Da.” I shook my head again. “I would’ve let it go as my failure if this was a single occurrence; but she’s done it all over my paper!”

“You positive your Dad will get that?” Philip asked. I looked at him. He always knew the right questions to ask.

“Not unless I show him a Xerox copy,” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh man!” Philip chuckled. “Sure hope I see you tomorrow!” I grinned.

“Me too, Philip” I crossed my fingers, me too.

7:00pm

“I officially hate History Ma.” I said, looking up at Amma who’d just returned from her B.Ed. training for the day.

“Why?” Amma’s eyebrows went up, “What happened?”

“I hate my teacher.” I threw up my hands, dejected. “She just doesn’t teach us properly. I mean I can’t learn History like this! I can’t even pass Ma, I can’t…”

“Hey!” Ma cut in. I stopped my rant. “All you’re saying is I can’t.” I frowned.

“Do not side with her on this Ma. You just can’t!”

“I’m not going to side with anything that’s wrong…”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ following that?” I narrowed my eyes.

Amma smiled. “But, did you do everything in your power to ensure that your teacher doesn’t have any dirt on you?”

“What?” I was confused.

“Did you make sure that you didn’t give your Ma’am any chance to cut your marks?” Ma’s look bore into me.

“Ma, it’s because I always answer her in class. Sometimes I correct her and she doesn’t like that about me.” I said.

“Okay then; why doesn’t your paper reflect that?” I could tell Ma wanted me to see the answer she already had.

I sighed, “Probably because, I didn’t write word-to-word from her notes?” I lowered my eyes.

“That’s okay. Next time, write what’s in the textbook.” I looked up at my lifesaver, really Ma? I wanted to say. Amma smiled.

“I didn’t think of that Ma,” I said truthfully, “I guess it’s worth a shot!” And for the first time that day I held my head high.

December 2007

2:00pm

I closed my eyes when I heard my name being called. The class was noisy again. I took a deep breath and stood up to go collect my mark sheet.

“Well done Nita! I’m very glad your answers are different from the rest; I always knew you could do better. Keep this up okay?” Four months ago, I would’ve sworn I heard a taunt in that sentence, but now as I stared at my History teacher, my head was just… quiet. I had just wanted to collect my paper and see my marks, but Asha Madam’s remark totally stumped me. I managed a ‘thank you’ with a smile and went back to my seat.

“Move over,” Philip pushed me into the bench. “Well?” he asked, “How much?”

“I haven’t looked yet,” I told him. I opened the folded mark sheet. He did a double-take, “you didn’t flunk Dude!” Twenty-nine on thirty, the red ink read this time. Philip held out his hand and I fist-bumped him.

8:00pm

I handed Ma my mark sheet that evening. She looked up at me through her glasses and a landfill of colored chart papers.

“What did you do different this time?” she asked.

“I read the textbook.” I sat down next to her. “I also discovered that all along, this was my teacher’s plan to get my grades up.”

“Really,” Amma’s voice had a knowing ring to it. I smiled.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess History isn’t so bad after all.”

To this day, I’m still grateful Ma and Asha Madam devised their own ways to get me to devise my way out of that situation. It changed the way I looked at ‘strict’ teachers and now, as a teacher myself, I totally get them. I would’ve done the same, if not worse! So, here’s wishing all my teachers a beautiful day! Thank you for being you and for trying to make better humans out of us.