Remembering my teachers on “National teacher’s day” … Part- 1st
Recap – (In the first part of this blog, I mentioned about the experiences of my teachers of Basic Primary School of childhood village. That was up to my standard 5th. After that I sought admission in to a distant located High School.)
Somehow, I managed to qualify my fifth standard from my Basic Primary School. Really say, on securing the report card I had had the feelings akin to that of a Jew, who felt escaping a long prison of German Nazi’s Concentration camp. I was ascertained, my worthless parents in all probabilities were determined to send me to a distant High School to further my study. The horrific stories of treatment of teachers towards their students of that school, too had been filtered into my ears. Now I was at the threshold of my teen age but not competent to revolt against the decision of parents. It was different, parents were no where wrong on their part. All parents cherish a wish to educate their offspring.
Remembering my teachers : Impact of primary school’s experiences
But one fact was crystal clear, the harsh sufferings of Primary school turned up me into an obstinate one. It virtually sowed the seeds of a rebellious opinion against the prevailing education system. Besides, as I mentioned in the first part of the blog, when as an infant along with my classmates, I cherished a wish of vanishing away of our senior teacher in the rough river. But god didn’t listened our pray and teacher didn’t drift away, this too made me skeptical about the existence of the God.
Remembering my teachers : New school
About new school, a little hope I calculated into my mind. In high school, various teachers were supposed to teach us, in accordance with the schedule of the subjects. That is, a separate teacher for a distinct subject as per the schedule of the subject. A hope kept on kindle in the mind, might be, all they were not so cruel towards the students as the teachers in the Primary school had been. But my this “hope” too got pulverized on attending the school, barring one exception.
Today, when I analyse the factors behind the maltreatment of teachers, I easily come to the conclusion. At that period of time, teachers were paid a meager salary, not enough to meet the expenditures. Neither there was a trend of giving private tuition in that backward region, at that time. The frustration generated by impoverishment prompted teachers to beat harder on a slightest mistake.
Remembering my teachers : Riddles
There are some riddles which yet I have not been able to comprehend. In the name of “math” teaching, I appreciate “arithmetic,” that learning helped me to count the money, add something and subtract something. It proved helpful in the future life. But in the name of “trigonometry and algebra” we were put into the great sufferings to stripped off to skin. What was the logic of that teaching. Never that became of any use to life. Next to it, the series of past events in the name of history and geography all that became futile. As on today, in the name of history teaching, I recall my past as a series of of teacher’s thrashing, as having indelible imprints of past.
Whosoever teacher happened to enter the class to teach us, he ever entered with a baton in his hand. At that time, it seemed to us that it was a government order for teacher to be harnessed with a baton. School was not a school for us, in fact it was a jail for us, and for teachers we were prisoners who might try to break the jail at any time. There were some unique subjects in our curriculum. In those days, agriculture was a subject in Junior High School course. Another subject that astonished we all the students was P T ( Physical training.) Since we all students belonged to a rural background and the concept of Physical Training ever sounded to us mocking.
Remembering my teachers : Physical training class
The three day of the week, we were destined to attend the class of Physical training and rest of the three days of Agriculture. The physical training teacher ( now days they are figured as Physical Instructor) was a retired Havaldar,. By origin he was a Nepali fellow. In the class, he ever treated us as a new recruit and by himself a “Colonel” of the army. He used to undergo us through a harsh marching parade that was so boring, for we all students after the classes had to march on foot daily back to home. Our daily march consisted of up and down for school daily.
Not only this, in rainy season, he by order drag us all to the near by running raw canal. In the monsoon season the canal remained loaded with schools of fish. In fact the water fetched fishes from the river source of the raw canal. Whole through the rainy season he kept us engaged in fish gaming. Daily he used to collect sufficient load of fishing for his home.
Remembering my teachers : The ‘Agriculture” class
In rest of the three days of the week, we were destined to attend the agriculture class under the strict surveillance of the “agriculture teacher.” The prescribed curriculum, he used to teach us from the book, was no where in use at that time in our rural agricultural life. He too was aware of this fact, so he never gave us the negative marks in the exams. We all were supposed to obtain the passing marks. But in lieu of this favor, we were bound to go through some practical classes, invented by the teacher.
In his house, he had tamed some milking cows. To collect the fodder, we were sent to nearby fields to perpetrate the fodder. Apart from that, we were forced to collect “fuel woods” from the forest, located at some distance. Through our hard work, he piled up stock of fuel woods that sufficed his domestic needs whole through the year. That was an old time and no LPG stove were in existence. The fodder we collected helped his cows to produce the good and enough milk. By consuming that nutritious diet, he gained the strength which he used to chastise the idler students.
Remembering my teachers : An exceptional teacher
In overall, in the name of “Teacher day” in that teen age, I have got the bitter memoirs of teachers’ deportment towards the students. Now for whom I can have a feeling of homage. Yes! an exception was there. He was our “drawing teacher.” He was given to remain almost in “mute” mode. After a lapse of time we came to know, it was because of his being addict to opium. No doubt, a gentle man otherwise he was. He would enter silently in the class, sometimes drawing a sketch of lotus flower, rose flower, pomegranate or apple on the black board. Then asked us tenderly to copy that in our drawing note book and literally implored us to fill that with watercolors as per our imagination.
We all students merrily followed his instruction. I don’t remember, ever he restrained us to make a clamor nor he intimidated us to fail in the exam. He was a chronic bachelor and belonged to some renowned family of the area. He was the teacher of his ilk, we unruly students had cherished to have in the name of school teacher. Later on, owing to over dose of opium he passed away before the retirement. He ever remained and will remain in the memory of students like me. On the “Teacher’s day”, I extend to this saintly teacher my homage from the depth of my heart. (End of the part 2nd of the story.) Penned by — Vinay Pharasi …..
