i luv u teacher!!

Again, we travel back in time machine to my school days. As an above average student with poor handwriting, I moved to my sixth grade. We had our new english teacher. She also had the additional responsibility of handling our class. As I remember today, she was a young pleasant looking lady. However, she was not pleasant in her work. She was one of the very strict teachers I had seen. She was very harsh on us whenever we had not done our home works.

She was bothered about my hand writing and her wooden scale bothered my hand knuckles. Comments like 'Ugly' and 'Untidy' became more common in my english note book. Beatings and re-writings became part and parcel of my life. She made me consious about my writing, I started concentrating on my handwriting skills. I was improving but then that was never going to be enough.

Once, I was asked to write a complete essay in a four-line note book. If you are wondering what I term it as four-line notebook, it is the note book that every kid uses in kinder garden to practice alphabets. For some reason, I felt shame about it and I was not even ready to ask my father to buy me that note book. So, I went empty handed on the following Monday and gave the usual excuse of having completed the work but forgetting to bring it. She sent me out of that class and the next day she followed it up with it as if she had set a reminder on her watch. I did not have any update for her so I was asked to bring one of my parents the following Saturday for the parents-teachers meet.

Those days in my opine, a call was either for academic and/or behavioural reasons. That is, whenever a student fails or when the school has a concern on the student's behavior. So, I did not let my parents know about that. Then, as usual I had to go out of the English class the following monday. My father came to know about this, thanks to one of my close friends. I was blasted left and right at home.

My mother took a permission from office and accompanied me to school. They discussed about my handwriting. Bothered if my teacher would reveal my long pending home work, I was weeping all the time. As everyone does, I loved my mom than anything else and she did me even more than that. When she saw me crying, tears rolled down her eyes too. I still remember that moment. Then, they sent me to my seat and continued their discussion. Nothing reached my ears about that either from my teacher or from my parents after that. But slowly my hand writing improved, it became more presentable and neat. I do not know if any other teacher had or would be able to give such individual attention to a student.

She got married and left the school when I was in my ninth grade. I think she moved to Assam with her family. I scored relatively well in my higher secondary public exam. People who know the significance of presentation and hand writing skills in a public exam would understand the significant role she had to play in that little success I had.

As it usually happens with every teacher, I had cursed her for too many reasons when she was around, when I had to thank her, she was not around ;)... konjam senti