I know a school teacher. In many ways he is like me. He is passionate about values, the philosophical argument etc. although on the practical level he is rather indolent. The similarities do not end there as quite like myself he has started teaching in a school nearby. He is a 'volunteer'. So am I, and like me he does not draw a salary. But a certain greater degree of freedom of movement in school compensates that disadvantage in comparison with the other staff. He may, for example, miss the assembly or choose not to eat with the other teachers.
We met yesterday in a restaurant. I asked him how it was to teach in a school. He paused for a while. Then he lit a cigarette and said, "Oh!". I could not fathom this mysterious 'Oh!' I looked at his 'o' shaped smoking mouth, hoping to get some elucidation from him.
The level of English was abominable he began telling me. "I wonder who those idiots are who mistook their sloth for compassionate sympathy to promote my students to class IX! They do not know to define sentence! Their verbs and tenses are appallingly wrong. They do not yet know how a simple letter is written!" He puffed deep at his cigarette and blew smoke all around his face. I could see his frustration in it.
" Relax!", I advised, " You have just about begun yaar. Give them some time to get used to your ways."
"Hmmm"...!
"What?" I asked him seeing that he was not convinced.
" Damn it Charu! You should see them in class. When I explain the lesson so damn clearly and I ask them whether they have understood what I had explained a very satisfying and collective "Yesssir!" rings in the class. But then I check their work in their notes and I see DIZZASTER!!" He uttered the word almost with a double 'Z'.
"There is this one dude, Shiva is his name. Nice looking fellow, neat and all, but he does not understand a thing. I asked him to read the other day. He could barely read a sentence without stumbling. I asked the class to write answers to some questions which they did. I corrected them in their roughs and asked them to copy them in the fair books without mistakes. This guy Shiva copied exactly as he had written them in his rough, mistakes and all! And he is not the only pillock! It is a class full of dumb idiots! I am disheartened. I am considering quitting."
"Already? Not yet three weeks since the school reopened?"
" Oh yes! Three years will have gone by even without any progress with those morons. A couple of girls show promise though, and I am speaking comparatively here."
I told him to take it as a challenge. I quoted Swamy Vivekananda who had said that a good teacher instructs but a great teacher inspires, etc. which only prodded my friend to complain some more.
" There is another dolt whose name is Punnyakoti. Punnyakoti indeed! I read the pathetic essay he had written about his school and his English teacher. I felt so hopeless when I read it that I called him to the staff room and made him write this: - 'I shall apply myself in the class so that I understand my lesson. Whenever I do not understand I shall request my teacher to explain again so that I understand. I promise to keep my promise. '
A day or two after that he again showed no interest in trying to understand. I made him stand up and reminded him of his promise. He simply kept looking at me with that silly grin of his.
I asked him whether he knew what a promise was. He shook his head! Charu, HE ADMITTED THAT HE DID NOT KNOW WHAT A PROMISE WAS!! I pulled out a hundred rupee note from my wallet and asked him to read the promissory note on it. He read it, stumblingly of course, but he did. I asked him what he held in his hand. He said that it was one hundred rupees. I said that I did not believe it was one hundred rupees. "It is a piece of paper", I told him. He refused to believe me so I asked him why he believed it to be not a piece of paper but hundred rupees. He did not know why.
I asked him to read the promise on the currency note again. He read," I promise to pay the bearer the sum of Hundred Rupees". I asked him to look at the signature of the Governor of The Reserve Bank of India and told him that the piece of paper had become valuable only because of that written promise of the governor of the Reserve Bank of India. I told him that a promise had to have some real value, like that piece of paper which arrogated the value of hundred rupees owing to the promise."
My friend stubbed out his cigarette and looked at me. His eyes were slightly teary.
I admired his sincerity, but more than that I loved the example he gave his student. I have little reason to doubt that this chap will inspire his students before long.
We met yesterday in a restaurant. I asked him how it was to teach in a school. He paused for a while. Then he lit a cigarette and said, "Oh!". I could not fathom this mysterious 'Oh!' I looked at his 'o' shaped smoking mouth, hoping to get some elucidation from him.
The level of English was abominable he began telling me. "I wonder who those idiots are who mistook their sloth for compassionate sympathy to promote my students to class IX! They do not know to define sentence! Their verbs and tenses are appallingly wrong. They do not yet know how a simple letter is written!" He puffed deep at his cigarette and blew smoke all around his face. I could see his frustration in it.
" Relax!", I advised, " You have just about begun yaar. Give them some time to get used to your ways."
"Hmmm"...!
"What?" I asked him seeing that he was not convinced.
" Damn it Charu! You should see them in class. When I explain the lesson so damn clearly and I ask them whether they have understood what I had explained a very satisfying and collective "Yesssir!" rings in the class. But then I check their work in their notes and I see DIZZASTER!!" He uttered the word almost with a double 'Z'.
"There is this one dude, Shiva is his name. Nice looking fellow, neat and all, but he does not understand a thing. I asked him to read the other day. He could barely read a sentence without stumbling. I asked the class to write answers to some questions which they did. I corrected them in their roughs and asked them to copy them in the fair books without mistakes. This guy Shiva copied exactly as he had written them in his rough, mistakes and all! And he is not the only pillock! It is a class full of dumb idiots! I am disheartened. I am considering quitting."
"Already? Not yet three weeks since the school reopened?"
" Oh yes! Three years will have gone by even without any progress with those morons. A couple of girls show promise though, and I am speaking comparatively here."
I told him to take it as a challenge. I quoted Swamy Vivekananda who had said that a good teacher instructs but a great teacher inspires, etc. which only prodded my friend to complain some more.
" There is another dolt whose name is Punnyakoti. Punnyakoti indeed! I read the pathetic essay he had written about his school and his English teacher. I felt so hopeless when I read it that I called him to the staff room and made him write this: - 'I shall apply myself in the class so that I understand my lesson. Whenever I do not understand I shall request my teacher to explain again so that I understand. I promise to keep my promise. '
A day or two after that he again showed no interest in trying to understand. I made him stand up and reminded him of his promise. He simply kept looking at me with that silly grin of his.
I asked him whether he knew what a promise was. He shook his head! Charu, HE ADMITTED THAT HE DID NOT KNOW WHAT A PROMISE WAS!! I pulled out a hundred rupee note from my wallet and asked him to read the promissory note on it. He read it, stumblingly of course, but he did. I asked him what he held in his hand. He said that it was one hundred rupees. I said that I did not believe it was one hundred rupees. "It is a piece of paper", I told him. He refused to believe me so I asked him why he believed it to be not a piece of paper but hundred rupees. He did not know why.
I asked him to read the promise on the currency note again. He read," I promise to pay the bearer the sum of Hundred Rupees". I asked him to look at the signature of the Governor of The Reserve Bank of India and told him that the piece of paper had become valuable only because of that written promise of the governor of the Reserve Bank of India. I told him that a promise had to have some real value, like that piece of paper which arrogated the value of hundred rupees owing to the promise."
My friend stubbed out his cigarette and looked at me. His eyes were slightly teary.
I admired his sincerity, but more than that I loved the example he gave his student. I have little reason to doubt that this chap will inspire his students before long.
No comments:
Post a Comment