My Perfect Teacher

When life becomes unbearable, you must know how to dream…ring … the bell had rung signalling the end of the period.”Ok, we’ll see the rest of it tomorrow”, saying so she had hardly left when the class resorted back to its general state of pandemonium. As I looked around, I could see my friends either struggling to concentrate on their so called formula books or throwing tantrums and getting on each other’s nerves (such were my classmates). But amidst all of this, I just sat there on my feet, frozen and oblivious to the entire world before me whilst I couldn’t help but wonder at those mystical words that I had just heard and more importantly at the speaker, my marvellous English teacher.

Every human being who has been a student obviously, at some point of his life would have come across that perfect teacher, that role model, who inspired you and amazed you side by side. As I look back on my school days I would like to write just this once, about my teacher who made me see life as I  had never before imagined, my Meera ma’am.

To say that she was highly proficient in English would  be an understatement. As far as I knew,  her knowledge seemed to have no bounds. She would be speaking about Wilfred Owen’s par poem one moment and about Modi’s memorandum the next. Every class offered something new and exciting, it could be anything; a surge of determination, an ocean of love and even a feeling of hope. Yet when she stated something that we already knew, to our surprise it never sounded cliche. We often got to look at different perspectives which we had never thought about. It opened up new horizons. Yes, you cannot imagine how eagerly we waited for her classes.

She was no ordinary women. What she had said earlier was actually the secret of life. Dreams motivate you to think and work further. Why do people commit suicides and heedlessly end their lives?… because they have lost their capacity to dream, I realised. Be it any syllable that she spoke, it always made sense. There was wisdom sparkling in her eyes and we could see that she calculated everything that she ever did. It was evident in her mannerisms. Yet being so young  even I could realise the extent of mind control and patience she brought into play to be … well perfect! She often remarked that the hardest task in this world is not the physical task of trekking past hard terrains but the art of controlling one’s mind. And I believe that I have found it to be true on numerous occasions.

The way she used to carry herself around the classroom, displayed an aura of its own and I truly admire her for that. As for my part, I always tried to be extra attentive in her class. You always be o n your best if you want someone’s respect and affection. Unfortunately in my case I had be “good” for a very long time which stretched for far more time than I imagined it would. Amidst all this I did learn an important lesson, to impress someone great you had to be at least equivalent to their greatness apparently.

Being born in a fairly small town of Kozhikode, I led a very simple life basking myself in the glory of the sun and appreciating the beauties that nature had to offer. And my early school life too portrayed a bland streak as I was taught by by the normal robotic teachers whose work life spun around the never ending cycle of tests, projects and term exams. And to prepare for my college entrance exams I had to choose a different school in a different city.But my arrival to my new school had in store for me surprises galore. In addition to good friends and an awesome schooling experience, I dared to discover my role model, my mentor, my teacher. Having read numerous such accounts about teachers who created history by transforming purposeless children into well informed civilised beings during the annual affair of the well celebrated Children’s day, I always longed to have at least one teacher who would leave a lasting impression on my mind. The almighty must have felt pity on me for i received more than what I had asked for; a guru who left me in awe of her.

Once ma ‘am remarked that pessimists make good writers . Coincidentally I was a pessimist; moreover I wanted to become a Writer. I needn’t say anything more, right? Frankly I was overjoyed when she said so! Furthermore I had won a prize in an All- India writing competition a few years ago leading to my trivial story being published. Keeping all this in mind I wanted to envision my future prospects of being a writer. But out of nowhere intense fear crept into my mind. What if she disagrees? What if I ruin that divine yet delicate bond? I decided to keep quiet. And soon the days passed into months and now I write this excerpt today not knowing where it will lead to. But I strive for that day when I grow up to be someone more worthy , more deserving so as to be able to stand before my invaluable teacher and tell her how much I loved admiring her.

 

 

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9 thoughts on “My Perfect Teacher

  1. Refreshingly different from all sorts of excerpts on the same topic. But you have still got a long way to go. But I think all your readers are waiting for that transistion. Maybe even your Mam.

    Liked by 1 person

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