Influencers We Called Teachers
I loved school. Had a mixed bag of teachers. But I learnt something from each one of them. Some more than others. Here are a few.
Miss Nancy Chapman was my first teacher in school. In KG. I joined school mid-term, so I had her only for six months, yet she remained my favourite go-to teacher. Through my school life, I would go visit her during recess or lunch or assembly. Just pop by and show my face. I felt like she was MY teacher. I still feel the same.
Curly brown/black hair, fair, blue/green big eyes, and dressed in a knee-length dress, she was a kind teacher.
Miss Chapman was and will remain my favourite teacher till the end of my life.
Mrs Bonjour (Beverly Bonjour) and Miss Chapman were best of friends. She passed away a few months ago and I happen to watch the funeral service online. Miss Chapman was heartbroken— she was heartbroken in her speech and she was heartbroken in her silence. Losing your best friend can do that to you.
Mrs Bonjour never taught me but on the one occasion that she spoke to me, it mattered the most.
I was in class 8 and a wildcard entry for the English elocution contest. I had prepared really hard and it seemed like I was doing a good job of it until the day of the finals. I messed up in all possible ways imaginable — I coughed, sniffled, had a runny nose, went on stage holding a big handkerchief and then decided to not use the mic since none of the other contestants did. No one could hear me. I was 8th out of 8. I received a consolation certificate.
But that wasn’t the worst part. My class teacher, Mrs Deendayal gave me a good dressing down in front of the class for one full period (it felt like eternity, though). The ordeal would have continued had it not been for Betty, my classmate, who thankfully had won the trophy and finally came back to class after a (sort of) victory lap. The focus shifted. I am eternally grateful to Betty for that!
But I had still been quite humiliated. It is a miracle I wasn’t given a demerit slip for fucking up. Our school was very trigger-happy that way. During lunch, as I headed home clutching my certificate and dragging my shame (of the runny nose and my performance), Mrs Bonjour and Miss Chapman walked up to me. We shared the same route.
Mrs Bonjour had been in the auditorium and was witness to the disaster that was me. She put her hand on my shoulder and said "Don’t worry child, this happens. You shouldn’t let it affect you".
That was it. The shame lifted and vanished in a matter of seconds. I was a different child. Like a switch went on. I must have muttered a thank you, and I ran home after that. Ran home to show my certificate to my parents. They were happy. I was happy.
Those two sentences freed me of the guilt of losing and of it somehow being my mistake. I didn’t know it back then, but she saved me that day. Her hands on my shoulder and those words have stayed with me forever.
The thin, lanky, and very effervescent Mrs Moss was an excellent English teacher. She took one substitute class in standard six where she taught us tricks to remember spellings like ‘receive’, ‘believe’ and ‘business’. That stuck.
She taught us 12th Night and Bernard Shaw in plus two, very briefly, and it was magical. Nobody came close. Nobody.
Sister Helena, our Irish principal, was a strict disciplinarian who took the school to great heights. Long before Amitabh Bachchan of Parampara-Pratishtha-Anushasan fame, there was Sister Helena.
Mrs Peacock (vice principal-junior school) and Mrs Krishna (standard 4 class teacher) were very particular about spelling and penmanship.
Mr Kripal Singh, our Geography teacher, was most excited about maps and topo sheets. Amu Darya, Syr Darya, Taklamakan, Verkhoyansk and the D-47 topo sheet are firmly etched in our minds. For the rest there was copious amount of underlining. He could have done better there.
Mr Munro was our PT teacher. His rigorous after school practice and ek dow ek dow meant we, the girls, won the best platoon (march past) trophy twice every year. He ran the quiz club and took our GK class. He was our Derek O Brien. I know of at least one occasion when we won the Bournvita Quiz Contest.
I loved chemistry and so I liked Mrs Bhuiyan. Children were scared of her. You couldn’t fool her into believing you knew the answer. If you knew the answer and raised your hand she would never pick you. But if you did not know the answer and then raised your hand, she will pick you. And then came her favourite sentence “I will throw you from the window and make you an omelette". I recalled this line one day while making eggs. If she dropped us from the first floor, wouldn’t we be more sunny side up?
There were many others. Some quite good, others not so much but all of them taught us something useful in their own ways.
For instance, Mrs Sahay, my Hindi teacher, at the parents teacher meeting told my mum — “ye itna baat karti hai, toh shaadi ke baad kya hoga”. I was in seventh or eighth. My mum said, “tab ka tab dekha jayega”. But what pissed me off more were the four boys, who were sitting in the front bench with their parents, giggling at this comment. And one of them seems to remember it even today.
I understood that day — kuch toh log kahenge, logo ka kaam hai kehna…
Anyway, this was all school. College was a blur, so not much to report from there.
The next teachers that came along were
and with their .They are the teachers we should have had —the listeners, the cheerleaders, the gentle nudgers, the motivators, and the potential tappers (all rolled into one).
But as they say, better late than never.
Who cares about teachers' day! I guess there are some kind souls like you, who do!❤️❤️❤️ A wonderful essay, totally worthy of being read out at the school assembly - cold or no cold! And I agree with every word you wrote about Natasha and Raju!
I smiled all the way reading through this Savvy. The things we remember, the things people say and do that leave a mark, make or break us. Lovely essay.