FROM DESPAIR TO HOPE

I am touched by what  Hip Hop Grandmom writes, in her blog, Teen Troubles-3. As a teacher, for more than 30 years, I have closely observed student life and found it to be rewarding and challenging. No doubt, there have been some very good moments in the class room environment, very special memories, which have sustained me as a teacher and motivated me, to do my best year after year. However, there are some other memories, so etched in my mind, that have filled me with despair. I wonder how much in despair these young ones might have been and wonder what goes on in the minds of their near and dear ones. Do they ever recover fully?

I remember two shocking instances, when pupils, two young girls, from my class took their own lives. Both were in their early teens, pretty, lively, smart kids. Both were studying in co-ed schools. One jumped down a high rise residential block of flats, in which she did not live. The other, an only child, just tied the noose tightly round her neck. Both were academically inclined and both managed to hide signs of trauma or stress from their large group of friends, teachers and parents. Soon, several stories made the rounds and most of them alluded to the fact that they might have got pregnant and were too afraid to confide or ask for help.

This incident took me back, almost 40years, to the time when I was studying in class 8. Our English teacher was a very kind lady, young and very approachable. During one of her classes, Misha, a classmate, excused herself to go to the restroom. As soon as she had left the class, the girl sitting beside her, Dina, stood up and told the teacher, Miss..Misha wants me to tell you something. The teacher answered, Yes..go on..what is it?  Dina appeared a little undecided, yet she spoke out, Misha says she is pregnant. The silence in the class was deafening and if our English teacher thought it was something extraordinary, she didn’t show it. She just said, Dina, why don’t you speak to me after class and we shall sort out her problem.

But thirty inquisitive pairs of ears had heard the unspeakable word, soon a buzz went about, but English teacher would have none of it. She just went on with her class and at the end, spoke to us all. She said, this is a personal matter and let us all respect it. Our class is like our family, and let us not go about discussing things which take place here. The teachers and the authorities handled the case very well and we got to hear very little about what had really happened. Just that Misha’s parents had been called, and it was  decided that Misha would be married off to the young man, who happened to be her neighbour. Of course, she did not attend school after that.

Last year, I met a classmate from those days. She told me, that she had met Misha at a pandal, during the Pooja festivities, who proudly introduced her to her family members. Misha had become a grandma and along with her daughter-in-law, was running a school. What a wonderful end to a story that could have resulted in tragedy.

As a teacher, I have been privy to many behaviour patterns, which eludes even the best of mothers. I learnt very young that I would have to deal with them, sincerely and effectively. During my first year as a teacher, in the primary section of my alma mater, I remember having to collect a rupee each, once a term, for charity. While doing so the first time, I noticed a small arm, pick up a coin from my collection and join the line to submit it as her contribution. She belonged to a wealthy family, well known in the steel city. At first I thought I had made a mistake. I grew alert and noticed that the act was repeated during the next term as well. Utterly shocked, I approached our Sister-in-charge and confided in her. She advised me to tell the class a story every day, especially those revolving around people, who stole from others and felt remorse at what they had done and were also punished by God for their act. The desired change did come about, the child got her contribution from home the next time and I was grateful to Sister for her kind ways.

Another incident which I have never forgotten took place when I was working in a school, especially for children of steel workers. The students, all from humble backgrounds had access to free quality education, yet very few of the pupils ever took their studies seriously. After a leisure period,  as I was preparing to go to class, a group of class six students burst into the staff room, with the information that their pencil boxes and bags had been raided and all notes and coins were missing. The class room was in a state of disarray. A thorough search was done, all the teachers joined in, even the headmistress, came in to speak to the class, but no leads were found. Over the next month, different sections, found their boxes and bags ransacked, and money went missing from teachers’ handbags. At the same time, some other teachers, got a complaint, that a student named Gudiya, was caught stealing money from commuters in the public bus they used to travel to and from school. And on their next vigil, the teachers caught Gudiya, in the empty classroom. She had left her class on the pretext of going to the restroom. Her parents were called and they were baffled to learn of their daughter’s deeds. The girl admitted that she had indeed stolen all the money from her friends and teachers. She blamed her aunt, who would regularly rob shopkeepers and grocery merchants. Children are quick to pick up bad habits, one doesn’t know whether it is the thrill or the power, but surely counseling is one way of overcoming these problems.

Another hilarious incident took place, when I was in the same school. One morning, we were preparing for the morning assembly and in walked a uniformed policeman, stomping loudly and purposefully. Refusing the entreaties of the Head Mistress to sit down and narrate his complain, he asked for a teacher by name. Where is Lata Madam? Where is she? I have come to arrest her, he shouted.  You should have seen the look on the face of the Head Mistress, yet she spoke calmly, Sir, what has she done? I shall reprimand her. Do not get so agitated. But he was not to be controlled. She slapped my daughter. How dare she! Do you know how lovingly we raise our children, No one raises their voice at them, leave alone lay a finger! And Lata madam  dare slap my daughter?Where is she? The girl in question was summoned and so was Lata ma’am, to verify the sequence of events. Tell your father what you did! Of course, you will keep mum now.  Then turning to the policeman-father, she said, Sir, your daughter was with a young man yesterday. They were holding hands and waiting for the bus.  I was also there with a whole lot of other girls waiting for the bus. As they entered the bus, it was so crowded, I saw them smooch each other...shameless!

The policeman never foresaw this reason, but had to defend his anger all the same. He asked, Does the young man belong to your family?  No! Then, what does it matter. You bring it to my notice, I shall deal with her..as he said these words, his demeanor changed, he left the room. Now it was the turn of the Head Mistress, Lata, these are young students and you are responsible for what happens inside the school  premises, once they are out, they are no longer our wards! Like Lata, I too learnt a valuable lesson that day.

I have great admiration for the Director of the next school I taught, in another city, where my husband was posted. The lady was the daughter of a freedom fighter, she valued nationalism and secularism above everything else. Those were the days of communal unrest in our country and she would make it a point to speak to her students regularly, during morning assembly, telling them how hatred and violence will always lead to evil and how empathy and understanding would enrich our lives and how we should pledge to live as Proud Indians, accepting and celebrating our diversity.

However, schools in the city were beset with unique problems! Here, it was my first encounter, with a group of students, who were adopted. For the first time, I was exposed to their pain and seclusion, how society still takes time to accept them in our midst. When I delved into the background of students with serious behavioural problems, I found that adoption was a major cause. I had dealt with students of separated and divorced parents, but this was altogether different. Some boards require verification of birth certificates and parents would come in after school hours, requesting teachers not to disclose to their children that they were adopted. I tried to advise these mothers that it would be better to reveal the facts to the child at some point of time but most of them were against it. Many had to overcome pressures from home, some had social issues but generally, the children seemed to have a rough time. In all my years, only one child has happily revealed that he was adopted and though he was a very naughty child, he was very endearing as well.

In our next posting, in Hospet, a small town, I taught English in a private college. I noticed that students were so bogged down by the education-examination system, that they had lost the joy of learning. They kept waiting for something magical to happen, they did not believe in helping themselves. I was shocked to find the student community so listless, that barring a few, learning was all about memorizing and appearing for the exam. They had all the modern gizmos, they knew how to enjoy themselves, but the future seemed to loom large in front of them.

After a two-year break, I am going back to being a teacher. Looking ahead, I hope to do my work with the same dedication and enthusiasm. I look forward to be in the company of children and wish the teaching-learning process will keep me young, agile, informed and happy! At the same time, I pray, it will make me a more understanding and tolerant human being, valuing mercy, patience, innocence and the human spirit!