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Meet my students

I love teaching my students. I dont know if they reciprocate the feeling while being taught by me but I must say, when I took on this job 4 years ago little did I know that I was heading towards an experience of a lifetime. The very first thing I learnt about my seemingly innocent students was not to take anyone at face value. And that, they will do anything to wriggle out of class.

The first class I took was in a make-shift cabin of yore cause the campus was not ready yet. Two batches of first year students were huddled together in a dark classroom; dark cause power had just failed. And it was the first day after a long vacation. And it was an afternoon class. And they were to study Electrical. With a brand new rookie teacher. I suppose all of these put together prompted them to implore to me not to take class that day puhleezeee…. ma’m how can we study in the dark…. pretty please….I took pity on them and let them off. When I walked out, the Vice Principal asked me why I wasnt taking their class. When told about the dark story, he walked into the now-silent class and pulled a cord leading to the ceiling and lo presto! The middle part of the wooden ceiling lifts and as if like magic, light floods into the now-bright classroom.

 

The class burst out laughing, after the VP had left, of course. Needless to say, I became wiser that day onwards.

What I like about teaching these young minds is not limited to just the text book stuff. If I may include Miss Wormwood’s concise teacher definition, “It’s not enough that we have to be disciplinarians. Now we need to be psychologists.” Well… almost…

When you’re dealing with 300 students, you need to come out of your perfect-world and accept that some students need attention, encouragement, even love while a few others may simply require the scolding of their lifetime. I’ve encountered the most intelligent students, with a sad drawback of not being able to communicate in English. Then there are ones who get by without the least bit of studying and instead concentrate on getting into trouble maybe because they “hate” their parents. Some are plain dunces who will desperately attempt with all they got but wont make it through their first year.

We have sportsmen who will sacrifice their sessional tests for the upcoming cricket match; then there are these shy, quiet students who will take the last seat and never look up from their desk. There are boyfriends & girlfriends who will stay joined at the hips in each class; while some are so irritating that I have to tell them to shut up and not ask a 100 irrelevant questions or else…

There are students who will always bunk their classes & fall short of attendance (who actually remind me of my days in college!) There are class clowns who are sometimes too funny for their own good; some students are born leaders, teachers’ pet, groupies, politicians, stalkers even! Each of them as different and unique from the other.

I am happy imparting education, not only professionally but also in terms of doing the right thing – morally & socially. One of my favourite alternate lecture is to tell students not to litter the environment and to make sure they put garbage in bins and not fly it in the campus. Another stress is to make sure they discard their Hindi, Nepali, Telegu, Punjabi and speak in English. Period.

Its an uphill task sometimes and the young mind may not take the enforcements too well in their stride but what makes up for that is my ex-students coming back to visit me, call me up or email me about how well they’re doing and that they miss the college. I miss them all too.

In the meantime, all I can do is sing, “We dont need no education” along with my students during one of their numerous talent shows and get ragged during Teacher’s Day. I think this year I may finally have to dance for them.

The M word

For some weird reason, I hate it when people address me as Mrs. Dorjee. Its strange that once a female is married, people clamour to associate them with this dreaded word. Its like a cattle brand, right on my forehead, automatically to be used just in case I suddenly dare to take a U-turn and do an uncharacteristic non-Mrs. thing!

Men have it so easy, they’re Mr. before and after marriage. No tell tale signs of being hitched, except maybe one of the Lord-of-the-Rings’ golden band, that too mandatory only in one religion.

I dont think of this condition as being insecure, crazy or simply wishing to be single once again. And my marriage is perfectly fine, thank you. I’m just raving and ranting about my dislike for the M word. The people in my office are sweetly aware of this fact and have been advised to call me Ms Dorjee if they do want to address me officially.

And also, I have retained my maiden name. Not much consolation but my long middle name, so bestowed upon in the rememberance of my mum is still intact, whether I’m Mrs or Ms. You can imagine my amusement when strangers blabber on, “Hi, Mrs Dorjee, how is Mr Dorjee?” I then enquire if they’re asking about my brother.

The Calicut Experience

A period of my life stands unmistakably lucid in my memory. It was the summer of 1997 that I enrolled in REC Calicut for four years of harrowingly memorable college. To be fair enough, there were good things and there were an equal number of bad things. Good or bad, all one could do at that point of time was take things in one’s stride and face it with a grin.

First came the language factor. Its not a pleasant experience being the only North Eastern girl in a bunch of malayalis in the hostel and not understanding a word being jabbered about. The endless streams of Malayalam got exchanged back and forth, while we poor minorities from the northern part of the country looked at each other’s faces and rolled our eyes! But all that became history when I met my best friend Anju. She’s the sweetest girl in the whole wide world, my teacher through 4 years of college to whom I truly owe my degree. She taught me the basics of the language. Then came much needed help in the form of mess chechis. (Chechi = elder sister) Slowly and steadily, I learnt the language and was soon the newest sensation in the hostel, the college and pretty much the town. I became this chinky female from God only knows where, who suddenly understands Malayalam and speaks it too. It was truly one of the finest moments of my life…

The college was just like any other semi-urban one, boys dominating the population and fighting over which girl would have the good fortune to be their girlfriend. Evening trips to the Happy Valley and Sorrow Valley (a.k.a. the Couples Valley) ensured constant romance in full bloom. Rumours spread faster even than wildfire and sometimes I think the general populace got wind of probable link ups even faster than the two main people concerned!

The problem with these romances was that unfortunately the profs’ houses used to line the Valley to Hostel route. Those dirty old geezers used to give us even dirtier looks as if to say wait- till-the-sessionals-come, you-people-are-in-hot-soup. But being the typical rebel, I usually gave a damn. Looking back makes me wonder how it was I ever passed their tests, esp that horrid, cranky old Fluid Mechanics prof who had made me his pet peeve.

I almost wish I didnt have to mention the grossest part of the 4 years… But like life, Calicut also has its dark side, without which the story shall remain incomplete. The college was a good one hour bus journey from the city. A mere 7 bucks was the fare, although the crowded buses rarely were empty. An interesting concept prevalent down south is the “ladies seat” at the front of the bus. Even then, some male would invariably have parked his butt there and it was always a pleasure to see sharp ladies deliver their comeuppance and eject them out from the privileged seat!

More often than not, these buses used to commute perverts and creeps, who’se fave pass time was to feel up girls. This trait was not only isolated to buses but the main city, walking amidst crowded frustated men… still sends a shiver up my spine. I recollect a belligerent moment of slapping a creep in a crowded bus plus delivering the choicest of Malli gaalis I could possibly think of, that I’m sure left him wondering if he’d felt up the wrong girl… I’d also like to take this moment to publicly enlighten the Kerala government that your ladies seat still doesnt guarantee safety of the women occupying them!

Calicut was my home for 4 years. In this short duration, I inculcated a love for malayali food, some of which I still make in my home and I must say have a new found respect for the multi-talented coconut. I love the beautiful backwaters, the spectacular beaches and also learnt to live with the hot, humid weather. It was a 4 years well spent and all my learning experiences has made me what I am today. So no regrets whatsoever….never did that, never will either. Since I’m all grown up now, I’m truly less in denial now than before. I’d say it was a time well spent, a life lived to the fullest and will blessedly continue till I live. Cheers!

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