Today is Teachers Day. 5th of september. This year it is sunday and i happened to read some columns in the Open Page in The Hindu today. These are some of the incidents that run through my mind when i hear the word ' teacher'.
I never studied malayalam till 4th standard, in Holy Angels School. It was a girls high school and boys were allowed only upto 4th std. The subjects did not include Malayalam.
During the vacation, my father taught me some basics in the language, so that i can pick up with the lessons when i can take malayalam as second language. So i went to my 5th std with 1st std books in language. After about a week, the Malayalam Sir, began with the 5th standard text. I didnt know to read. He pinched me so bad and I cried. The next day, the sir ordered me to write a line from the text on the Black Board. I stood without able to write anything and again he pinched me severely.
I cried so much and was adamant that i will not return to that school. The next day i went with my parents and the headmaster allotted me to French batch and thereafter..it was Joy for ever.
The year was 1970. It should be somewhere in April or May. I completed my 10th standard. The School - St.Joseph's Higher Secondary School, General Hospital Jn, Trivandrum. I was one among the students waiting before the Head Master's room. Fr.Paul Kunnumkal was the HM. He is short with white beard. He usually could not speak because of some breathing problems. We understood that he was an able administrator. The HM came after his classes and the time was noon. We were waiting for some certificates to be signed by him. We all felt relieved that we could get the certificates. But all of a sudden, it seems that he was in a hurry to go out again, he shouted at us. I will sign only two..Come on Prasad and somebody else.... Prasad is now Dr.Prasad and he was always first in the class. We felt very sorry for ourselves and felt that our HM was not fair to us. As we had no choice, we waited for hours without even food.
We were in the 10th std. fr Kuncheria taught us English. His class he based on the dialogue between Kunti and Karna before the war. One day one of the boys came late and everybody laughed. He then turned to the class and told us "No", Who knows this boy may be the eldest, and would have gone to buy firewood and only after that he could get food..many poor families live like that..
Recently, we the students of 1970 French batch, celebrated 40 years of our leaving the school and 25th year of our alumni, by invitng our teachers. We sat on the same benches we sat in the VIII th Std. There were only four teachers. The Christian teachers took our hand and kissed and the Hindu teachers placed their hands on our heads, when we knealt down before them. They were very happy to be honoured.
But to be frank, the emotional ferver was absent. Was the forty years gap or was it that during those days, they did not touch our emotional chords..i dont know.
Once in Kannur, i heard that the class teacher refused to take the poem "krishna gaadha" because he was a communist ( and there were more muslim students and also that communism was strong among many families)
Another day i saw a Mash (teacher) and the student smoking beedi at a pan shop.
We remember some teachers for their love and affection (Fr Kuncheria )Some are remembered for their strictness which would have helped us later..
I feel that we like sincere teachers who did their duty dutifully and with a little affection.
No comments:
Post a Comment