It all started with squealing excitement. ‘You guys, I finally has a job! ’ But honestly, I was mostly excited about not being broke anymore — well, being less broke, let’s say. I am paving my path to achieve dreams I cannot yet afford, to where I want to be someday, I told myself. I was excited about how well I did at the demonstration, the realization that teaching is actually fun. So there I was, my first day at a new job, clad in a saree, grinning in excitement and waiting for the adventure to begin. It wasn’t a bad first day, actually. Except for cringing levels of apathy from some students, hyperactivity that required some to play more than they worked and adolescent theatrics, it was a tolerable first day.
Being the new teacher on probation, I am to teach all the classes the vice principal and the departmental head deem fit. Hence on the second day, I had to teach a grade 2 class, which was all my nightmares sealed in one tiny jar. I had to teach them how to construct a story, and keeping their attention was like the Spartan war - I, being the Spartans, had lost even before I started. I drew pictures on the board, involved characters from the classroom in the story, made an absolute comedy of myself in front of them, but still, they were squirming like a pot of worms or wiggling to different tunes in their own heads. Thus struck the first lightning bolt of disappointment. But my mistake was assuming that it could never get worse, because it did. Couple of days later, I had to be in a grade 5 class, where my systems got updated on the ultimate level of student defiance. The highlights of that class were a boy trying to run away from class with his school bag on his shoulders, and two other boys running after him to catch him and bring him back, while the rest of the class was acting in their own spin-offs of Zombie Apocalypse. Oh, the joy! The girls were too involved in a discussion about whether or not the teacher drinks ‘shape up tea’, to actually pay attention to anything the teacher was saying. It was the first time I felt the blood boiling rage that most teachers probably are constantly driven by. I realized when I got home that I was still furious.
That night, I lied in bed, trying to sleep and started wondering if we were as obstinate when we were students. My first instinct was ‘Surely not! We respected our teachers!’ but seconds later I drowned in the ‘who am I kidding’ pool. I thought of this teacher we used to have in school, she was young, determined and talented, and the boys just couldn’t stop themselves from teasing her. They would make crude jokes among themselves and sing as she passed by. One day, they were playing with a duster in class, we were around 14, and the duster somehow hit her in the derriere. She, of course, thought it was intentional, and walked out of the class, her face red with anger and embarrassment. I don’t recall what happened after the incident, but some time later, we were talking about books, and she told me how reading To Sir With Love had inspired her and given her strength to deal with students at our school, because obviously, she said, it could have been worse. As I thought of this, I realized that I should brace myself for worse situations because this was only the beginning. I promised myself that I would never let them get to me; that I would never throw around fists of fury in a classroom; I would never embrace the fury they propagate or bring it home with me.
The thing about teaching is that it is rewarding as much as it is self-demeaning. The next day, I had to do a lesson for grade 10 without any preparation, and at the end of the lesson, this girl expectantly asked me if I will be teaching their class from then onward, when I said it was just a one-time thing, another boy asked me if I could switch classes with their current teacher. Of course, I said no, but that mini-moment in the sun was beautiful. Today, when I went back to the grade 2 class which had previously broken my spirit, this little boy came over to me and told me he started to write the story. When I asked him which story, he said, “there is a forest… and a lion comes…” — you guys!!! It was my story! He had been listening! Somebody had been listening! I could have hugged him right about then. Later on, when I asked them to draw something since their teacher was absent, a couple of kids actually drew what I had drawn on the whiteboard the previous day to construct the story. Simultaneously, in every disoriented class, there was somebody who was paying attention. I also learnt that just because they are not staring at me with widened eyes, does not mean that they are not paying attention.
All the chaos, the squirming worms make me brainstorm for innovative ways to keep their attention, to encourage them to participate in class. But today, I was talking to an experienced teacher and she sounded barely excited about trying out new methods, instead, she went on blaming the students for being ill-disciplined and not understanding the value of education and the like. I am certain that I would be just as bitter if I had been teaching for that long. But something that was brought to my attention on my first day as a teacher is that students do not come to school to study. While we were discussing an essay topic, this 11-year-old girl told me that all teachers have to be locked in a room a bombed; I have to say that I admired her quite a bit for her imagination and conviction, but I gave her a vicious look anyway; to which she hurriedly responded with “bombs that make you fall asleep, that is!” What I gathered from them is that school is where all the friends are and where all the fun is, and if you manage to learn a word or two amidst all that, there’s no harm in that. But when you are in the payroll that is responsible of ascertaining they learn just more than a word or two, your approach changes quite a bit. It’s not just their futures that are at stake, it’s yours too.
Even today, on my way home, I was wondering if this is what I want, I weighed my options and figured that it is not rocket science: I need the money; I need the freedom the job offers in order to continue my studies; therefore, I need the job. To stay in the job, I need to be satisfied with what I do. To gain satisfaction, I ought to keep trying, until my spirit wanes, to trick these kids into learning something while they are having fun, and hopefully, make a difference. So, here’s to the trickster!
