It's Teachers' Day today here in India, and- no prizes for guessing- this post is dedicated to my teachers. But first things first. To all teachers reading this post, and to all who aren't, Happy Teachers' Day! And a big THANK YOU for the wonderful job you all have been doing. The world would get nowhere had it not been for our teachers.
This picture is courtesy ME. Not fully, though. You see, I was browsing the net for Teachers' Day images, and found nothing suitable, so I downloaded a picture of rosemary flowers (which symbolise remembrance) and edited it to suit my purpose.
Today I'm going to talk about all the teachers who stand out particularly vividly in my memory.
The first such person I can remember was Miss Marian Felix, who taught us English when I was in Grade 3. That was around the time when I got so good in English that I was easily the best among my classmates, and naturally, I was her favourite student and I remember how she used to pamper me a lot. Come to think of it, I've always been pampered a lot by my teachers since childhood- firstly because I'd always be ill, and secondly because I was such a good student. I'd talk a lot in class and nobody would ever scold me. I'd get up from my seat while the teacher was teaching and wander to the door to watch the clouds in the sky (yes, I was always a bit poetic, although I never wrote a proper poem till I was nearly sixteen), and nobody would say anything. It was considered perfectly normal of me to do all sorts of odd things in class and go unpunished.
The next teacher I remember was also my English teacher- in Grades 7 and 8. No, I was not her favourite student. The class topper was her favourite student, but there was no denying that when it came to English, I was the best. She was also the one who was in charge of the school Writers' Club when all those extra-curricular clubs were formed when I was in Grade 6, and naturally I joined the WC (although my family really wanted me to join the Quizzing Club- I've always been naturally good at GK- and there were a lot of tears and all, but ultimately I was allowed to pursue my passion). Her name was Mrs Moushumi Bhattacharya (I don't know if she spells her name that way) and she was the one who encouraged me to take my writing seriously. For the first time in my life, I realised that writing was something I really did well, and from then, I knew that all I wanted to be when I grew up was to be an author. Since then, I've started work on numerous “first” novels, but none of them has materialised so far- but well, someday, some story will.
The next teacher who I really really liked- and in a special sort of way, as you will soon come to know- was my English teacher in Grades 9 and 10. Again, I don't exactly know how he spells his name, but I suppose it was Sanjeev Ghosh. I was his favourite student, or so it appeared to me. And on my part, I had a huge crush on him. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Never imagined I'd have to say that cliché phrase of “I had a crush on my English teacher!”, but well, I have to, you see, to be quite honest.) He was tall and handsome, very smart and always well-dressed (I specially liked that pale yellow Monte Carlo sweater he would wear during the winter months); he had even tried out for the army, but eventually chose to be a teacher- so you can imagine how eminently likeable he was. Even the perfume that he wore was incredible to my olfactory senses.
But something happened in Grade 10 that made my respect for him grow to a great extent. His wife died- how, we the students never really knew, but Mrs Ghosh had been pregnant, and when she died, their baby died with her. The loss was too great for him to bear. He missed school for quite some time, and when he returned he was no longer the same. I've always been a very sensitive person, and it really affected me to see how grief-stricken he was. He would speak softly when he taught, remain thoughtful when the lesson was done, never smile or joke like he used to...And yet he bore the pain incredibly well. In those days, I really wanted to say something to him, something comforting- but I had no idea what I'd say if given the chance. So I kept quiet. And when, finally, many months after, I saw him smile his first smile while walking with a colleague, I felt so gratified. And then, in no time, I had left the school. I never saw him again.
Then I moved to greener pastures. To a school that was better in many ways. I've always been very ambitious- I'd give anything for my career. Even my sentiments.
But I took a long time adjusting myself to this new school. The people there were very nice, and I liked them, but I had no friends, until one of them won my heart with a few words. But that's another story. Here, we are talking about my teachers.
The Future Foundation School had many, many great teachers. There was Mrs Sanjukta Ukil, who taught us Economics, and she really adored me. There was ARC, the English teacher and the head of the Literary Club, which I joined as soon as joining TFFS. There was Mrs Madhuchanda Banerjee (okay, I've really forgotten her surname, but I think it was Banerjee), who taught us History, and she was a really great teacher. But the teacher who I liked the best was SC. He spells his name as Subhabrata Chowdhury, but I fondly call him Shubho Sir, in gross mis-spelling of his name! He taught Geography, but curiously enough, Geography was not a subject I had opted for. And yet, he was the best teacher I've ever ever had.
You see, I classify teachers in three groups: teachers who teach me a subject, teachers who teach me about life, and teachers who teach me a subject and about life. SC belonged to the second category. He taught me so much about life I'll forever be indebted to him.
And then comes my French teacher. He taught us only for a semester (6 months), but apart from Mr Ghosh, he's the best teacher of subject-and-life that I've ever had. I've never met anybody like my French teacher, Debojyoti Guha (DG). Soft-spoken, incredibly polite, humble, a perfect gentleman, and so dedicated to his work that...well, I have no words for it. And to top it all, his French was perfect. My current French teacher, Ingrid le Gargasson, is of French origin, and the other day, even she was amazed by how perfectly I pronounce the French I already know. All thanks to DG.
So there I've gone down memory lane, bringing up memories of all the wonderful teachers I've had. You know what? What made them so respectable in my eyes was the fact that they respected me in turn, the fact that they believed in me, much much more than I have ever believed in myself.
And now I'm in college, and we have loads of teachers. The best in their fields. After all, JUDE is the best in Asia, and we have the best faculty of English teachers possible. Yet, I have no favourites here...but maybe it's too early to judge. Maybe, by this time next year, I'll have more teachers to talk about.
Till my next post, keep visiting. And stay happy and healthy.
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JUDE,
Personal,
ramblings,
Teachers' Day
