I WAS trembling – for a few days before the big day. At 25, life had stared straight at me and I had decided to become a teacher – more for the love of green, the desire to get out of a city and the curiosity of being with children (who happen to be the happiest among all humans put together!) than for the love of a subject. But as the first day approached, I had more than just goosebumps.
I
distinctly remember not sleeping well for the two nights preceding my
first day “at work” as a school teacher for grade 6. A senior
teacher who became my mentor must have wanted to pull his hair apart
as I harangued him with “But what will I say? What will I do? What
should I talk about?” and the like. He kept smiling as I thought
aloud through the tornado in my mind, the churn in my stomach, the
sinking feeling in my heart, all thanks to the tsunami of self-doubt.
He assured me that the children would 'take care' of me. I didn't
know what that meant and whether I should believe him. “What if
they get to know that I know nothing?”
Before
the term began, I went to see the empty classroom on three occasions
– this small room with 20 stools and 10 tables would see me nearly
everyday, said my time-table. Huh – this is not intimidating at
all. I remember trying to hum something to calm my nerves as I stood
staring at 20 stools. My voice echoed – and I ran out gasping for
water and a dollop of oxygen.
I
walked in at 9.40 am into a class full of 10-year olds expectantly
looking at me with huge, affectionate smiles to welcome me. I stood.
Frozen but grinning from ear to ear, not knowing why they were so
quiet. I think I had hoped for some madness where the time that it
took them to settle down on their seats would have been enough for me
to calm down. But none of that – it was the first and last time
that I walked into a quiet class where I could even hear myself
breathing. Or so my nervous mind imagined.
And
now it was 30 seconds of having stared into their faces. Suddenly I
burst out laughing at the thought of what this might seem to an
outsider. I have always had a rather loud laugh – but the ripple
effect was deafening. Cacophony! In that first minute, we had
secretly shared a joke before we even exchanged a word. And then
came, “You're a funny, new teacher, akka” and “What's your
name, akka?” and more. They were SO curious to know so many things
about me – why I was so young, where I came from, why I became a
teacher, where I stayed on campus, whether I studied in their school
as a child, why I like (a child-like assumption!) Social Studies, the
subject that I was to teach them, what my name meant in Hindi, where
I grew up, whether I had siblings, whether I liked Harry Potter, what
my hobbies were, whether I would take them for a walk on a hill once
a month...
And
then one of them said, “Akka, let's see if you can remember our
names”. Without waiting for a reply from the much amused me, they
began telling me their names and began thinking of rather tangential
and hilarious ways to make it easier for me to remember them! By now
two of them were holding my hands as I stood.
That
was the fastest 40 minutes of my life and I've never, since, thought
twice about choosing to be with children for much of my waking hours
every day.
