This blog of mine has recurringly started taking me down the nostalgia route. I started receiving Teacher’s Day messages from my mentees this morning and it took me down memory lane. Back in the day, I was quite the little genius (if I can say so myself), always juggling a million thoughts at once, which someone in today’s age would probably interpret as ADD.
My even more genius mother figured I needed focus and discipline, and Shankaramma Teacher (it was almost like her full name, to date I can’t call her by any other name) was just the guru for the job – my “brilliance organizer.” Between grades 1 and 4, I had my own personal drill sergeant – oops – I mean, tutor. She was like the commander of discipline.
Imagine this: after school, I’d make a beeline to my teacher’s house, along with a bunch of fellow neighbourhood scholars. Now, picture of a soon-to-be retired government school teacher, in her mid-50s, all set to teach us youngsters the ways of the world—strictly. She ruled with an iron fist, and let’s just say, the dreaded cane wasn’t just a prop. Looking back, we probably deserved those gentle, sometimes hard taps of enlightenment – those were different times.
But oh, Shankaramma Teacher was so much more than a taskmaster; she was a tender soul hidden beneath that stern facade. In an era marked by the rigid norms of class and caste, Shankaramma Teacher’s home stood as an abode of equality, where every child felt embraced and empowered. She had a special fondness for me and my siblings, offering us a grace that was somewhat extraordinary. She transformed my wandering mind into a hub of meticulous details, a haven of punctuality, and a sanctuary of earnest practice. These newfound qualities were not just life skills but golden nuggets of wisdom, even if I didn’t quite possess the grandeur of talents that my siblings did.
The influence of teachers on us is immense – it is they who create the foundation and the building blocks of our ethos and ultimately the DNA of the nation. Teachers are akin to God because of their absolute selflessness. As kids, we tend to believe our teachers more than our parents because of the special place they have in society as imparters of knowledge.
I still don’t feel I have the vocabulary to articulate the gratitude and respect I harbour for her. So, I doff my hat to my guiding light, Shankaramma Teacher, as well as my teachers and gurus – academic or otherwise – who have shaped me. The Shankarammas of the world are the true nation-builders with the influence and relevance they bring to society and the world.
In the warm glow of nostalgia, I whisper, ‘Happy Teacher’s Day’.