I taught these kids for two years: They were in the 7th grade when I began work at the Municipal School in Kanjur Marg, Mumbai. .It was the month of July, 2013. I was the Teach For India Fellow come to teach them. Thus far they had seen only twenty-something Bhaiyyas and Didis. This one was a grey haired bozo of fifty five.
I did a grand corporate style presentation on Malala on my first day in class. They lapped it up. I was proud of what I did. that day. The days that followed brought home the challenges. It was no easy task getting 42 kids to work with me . Many missteps and heart burns followed. And then I regained my foothold. I taught Social Studies and English Language Arts. I learnt too.
I remember that I was asked to take charge of a dark dungeon that was a "changing room " for the housekeeping staff. A clothesline was strung diagonally across with an assortment of trousers , shirts and towels hanging on it. There were no benches. So the kids squatted on the floor and I stood in front of the class all day doing my act. Sympathetic teachers from neighboring classrooms began donating spare benches and desks and soon we had a seat for everyone. The one daily challenge remained: finding a chalk!
In 2014 a co-teacher, Vibhor, joined me. He was allergic to chalk dust and we switched to white board and markers. Vibhor and I worked in tandem, drew inspiration and energy from each other.
They were the two most glorious years of my life. I raised funds for a career seminar on "Milaap", a crowd funding portal. My second project was awarding "after school coaching " to the top 11 kids at a local tuition classes. Milaap got me over three lakh rupees. The kids got tutorial support for grades 9th and 10th.
I passed out of the Fellowship in 2015 but continued to keep in touch with the kids, making visits every few months to watch them learn and grow.
On 4 March I joined the grand party TFI teachers and the kids had organised to mark their last day in school. The room was festooned, a strobe light played on the colorful saris of the girls. They were dancing to frenzied beats from a playlist of Bhojpuri remixes. Then followed a simple but delicious lunch of veg Manchrian , fried rice , veg kababd and Gulab Jamuns.
It occurred to me that these kids will never know how much they will miss this day for the rest of their lives. I wanted to tell them to take a hard look at the benches and the desks and the walls and the faces of the teachers . I wanted to tell them that life will be a dizzy roller coaster ride from then on and when they pause to catch their breath it would be some thirty years gone. Then, they will want to touch these benches and meet their old friends and teachers , just as I did when I was 45.
As I walked out of the classroom and made my way down the tree -lined lanes of the Naval Colony I realized that this day was also the end scene of the movie in which I had played a supporting role. There will be no more visits to the school now. But wait. They will come to the school to collect their mark-sheets in June when the results of the exams are out. I plan to be there. I can meet those kids on last time.
I did a grand corporate style presentation on Malala on my first day in class. They lapped it up. I was proud of what I did. that day. The days that followed brought home the challenges. It was no easy task getting 42 kids to work with me . Many missteps and heart burns followed. And then I regained my foothold. I taught Social Studies and English Language Arts. I learnt too.
I remember that I was asked to take charge of a dark dungeon that was a "changing room " for the housekeeping staff. A clothesline was strung diagonally across with an assortment of trousers , shirts and towels hanging on it. There were no benches. So the kids squatted on the floor and I stood in front of the class all day doing my act. Sympathetic teachers from neighboring classrooms began donating spare benches and desks and soon we had a seat for everyone. The one daily challenge remained: finding a chalk!
In 2014 a co-teacher, Vibhor, joined me. He was allergic to chalk dust and we switched to white board and markers. Vibhor and I worked in tandem, drew inspiration and energy from each other.
They were the two most glorious years of my life. I raised funds for a career seminar on "Milaap", a crowd funding portal. My second project was awarding "after school coaching " to the top 11 kids at a local tuition classes. Milaap got me over three lakh rupees. The kids got tutorial support for grades 9th and 10th.
I passed out of the Fellowship in 2015 but continued to keep in touch with the kids, making visits every few months to watch them learn and grow.
On 4 March I joined the grand party TFI teachers and the kids had organised to mark their last day in school. The room was festooned, a strobe light played on the colorful saris of the girls. They were dancing to frenzied beats from a playlist of Bhojpuri remixes. Then followed a simple but delicious lunch of veg Manchrian , fried rice , veg kababd and Gulab Jamuns.
It occurred to me that these kids will never know how much they will miss this day for the rest of their lives. I wanted to tell them to take a hard look at the benches and the desks and the walls and the faces of the teachers . I wanted to tell them that life will be a dizzy roller coaster ride from then on and when they pause to catch their breath it would be some thirty years gone. Then, they will want to touch these benches and meet their old friends and teachers , just as I did when I was 45.
As I walked out of the classroom and made my way down the tree -lined lanes of the Naval Colony I realized that this day was also the end scene of the movie in which I had played a supporting role. There will be no more visits to the school now. But wait. They will come to the school to collect their mark-sheets in June when the results of the exams are out. I plan to be there. I can meet those kids on last time.
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