Tag: school

What Kids Know That Leaders Forget

Hispanic Heritage Month

It is Hispanic Heritage Month. I was curious to learn the difference between Hispanic and Latinos. In forms from the diversity teams in HR departments, the two terms have been chunked together.  Latinos may be Hispanic or not. Hispanic refers to those hailing from Spanish speaking countries. Latinos are those hailing from countries in Latin America. For instance Brazilians may not identify as Hispanic because Brazil was a Portuguese colony, and therefore do not speak Spanish. 

Cougars roar in Spanish

I now teach in a school where the Latino and Hispanic population is high. So I often get little peeks into the culture. The children like to tease me and ask for science videos in Spanish. “Ms Bala! We want to hear the cougar roar in Spanish!” 

“Can we watch the leopard eat the gazelle in Spanish?”

I give in, enjoying their gentle humor as they giggle, 

“Sounds so different in Spanish!”

“Totally different gazelle you guys!”

Last week, during a session of free play, I was invited to a game of Mexican Bingo. Amidst great cheers, the beans were passed out to each player as the cards were drawn. 

Esperanza Rising & Sonia Sotomayor

When we read Esperanza Rising together, there were so many moments when the children showed me in different ways how much they valued their cultural heritage, and roots. After the book was done, I had the children do a quiet session of art on the book, and some of them did a fantastic job. Some of them needed heavy scaffolding, but they came up with a good theme in the end.

I read a non-fiction book on Sonia Sotomayor to the children to complement the fictional Esperanza Rising the other day, and told them to keep note of the ways in which the books were similar. Once again, they surprised me. A surprise sticker contest really can get their brain cells thinking like nothing else can. 

What Happened?

Schools do a fantastic job of being inclusive, creating a sense of belonging, and teaching everyone to celebrate diversity.  I see the Hispanic child consoling an Indian-origin child for unfairness on the playground just as seamlessly as a Chinese immigrant child looking out for her Polynesian friend.

Somehow, everyday, I wonder how this beautiful dynamic gets lost on the way. Could it be that age jades our outlooks, and makes cynics of us all? 

The Joys of Student Teaching

This week I am with the children – a whole week in which we manage by ourselves. Me. With the children.

Trouble being heard? Or Trouble speaking?

I anticipated many problems. What I did not anticipate was losing my voice. The class has a microphone, it has a mike. In spite of all this, my voice was strained. I was croaking by the end of the day. Even the classroom Alexa refused to listen to me. I suppose my voice did not sound human at all. It was all very trying.

Classrooms are filled with technology – just like the rest of our lives. Something or the other malfunctions all the time providing for equal parts amusement, frustration, and a shared camaraderie as each of the children tries a different technique to get things going.

One time, the text-to-reader was not working. I know the children do not like listening to it either. They say it doesn’t sound like a real person. Which is fair. It does have a robotic monotone which I suppose is trying to fifth graders trying to not bounce around before recess. So, I started to read with that voice of mine.

One of the kids said, “Ms Bala, we can do popcorn reading!” I must’ve looked lost for they explained with the patience and indulgence they reserve for me, knowing I am a student teacher,  “We’ll each read a page.” And just like that, they showed me kindness and compassion without making a fuss. Or being asked to do so.

I really do love these children!

Dancing like Baboons or Flamingoes?

Just as I glowed in appreciation for them, they’d also try my patience by refusing to work out a hard math concept. I found myself coaxing and cajoling them to slide through the cubes to find the volume and surface area one morning.

“But we won’t even use this anywhere!” Whine.

“We did this all already! We filled out our answers!” Indignant.

“Not correctly! I checked your work. Most of you got it wrong. And I am so glad you brought up that it may never be used!” And I went on to tell them all the ways in which we use surface area to design products, or rooms, or cabin holds in flights, or medical instruments for that matter.

Only the promise of a dance video at the end of the lesson got them through the class. I shook my head as I watched imitate flamingoes or baboons in a dance video and moved away. But at the end of the lesson, two of them came up to me and said shyly, “Ms Bala – You really are a fun math teacher!”

I’d do the whole lesson again just for that. Don’t tell them that.

Oh the things you do!

Some days they behaved fabulously, and other days they were irritated with the fact that they were having to do work even though their main teacher was out. It was fascinating to watch.

Just as I’d admire how emotionally intelligent some of them were, I’d be faced with something like this:

“Ms Bala! He’s been saying that he’s going to take away my toys!”

“Which toys did you bring to school, Lysa?”

“I didn’t bring any toys!”

“So what can he take from you?”

I was reminded of P G Wodehouse’s quote about teachers:

“There is always something going on in a .. school. Beyond breaking up fights,…, inducing boys of all sizes not to throw stones, go on the wet grass, , tease the cat, make too much noise, …, swallow pencils, and drink ink because somebody bet them they wouldn’t, I had very little to do except teach mathematics,…,  play football, herd stragglers into meals… “

 

AIImagegeneratedbasedonthequotebyPGWodehouse:

I have James Patterson’s book, Thank You, Teachers, beaming at me from the bookshelf waiting to be read. I can already identify with it. Teachers really are as he describes it, “our last line of defense and our first line of hope.”

I am waiting to see the stories he has collected from teachers in the book.

I am full of tales every day, and I know now why there are so few teachers who are also mainstream writers. Life is so full in a classroom. It is filled with camaraderie, drama, and sweet moments that make you believe in humanity. But just like the children say “How was your day?”” Good!”” What did you do?” “Nothing!”  So it is with teachers.

You cherish the moments and prepare for the next class.

When you can be anything …

What do you want to be? 

A question that we ask our children way before they know who they are. Some of us know what we want to be doing early on. Some others not so much. People like me take a lifetime because we are always becoming. 

Now I think it’s one of the most useless questions an adult can ask a child—What do you want to be when you grow up? As if growing up is finite. As if at some point you become something and that’s the end. — Michelle Obama, [Becoming]

For those of you who do not yet know – I am switching careers now. Following a dream that has been in me for almost my whole adult life. I am choosing, and learning to become a teacher.

I am not sure why this took me so long. But it did. I studied to be a software engineer, had a reasonably good career for a quarter century. So why now? The answer was more simple than before, because I answered them with more questions: Why not now? If not now, then when?

Learning to Teach 

I am attending university to get my teaching credentials. School, assignments, examinations, projects, friends, classmates, teachers, professors, and I feel I have arrived home again. I have always wanted to learn. Loved to learn.

My courses over the summer were exciting and interesting, if somewhat different from what I have been doing over the past few decades. The past few decades were systems and scaling. Hopefully the next few years is children and growth.

A good part of learning to teach is grounded in psychology. Developmental psychology. At what age do children learn to think in abstract terms? Does it match the age when algebra is being introduced?

On phone calls with the parents, both teachers, they ask with interest about the psychological theories I am learning about. They are both retired teachers after decades of teaching, and still cannot quite help themselves from learning to teach.

Vygotsky, Bandura, Piaget, Gardner, Erik Erikson – they are all rattling in the brain after a fascinating few months of learning.

Teaching to Learn

This month, I get to be a student teacher in an Elementary school classroom. It is a long process to become a certified teacher in California. Something I did not realize.

My children had excellent teachers and mostly remember them with fondness. I have interacted with many of them over the years, some of whom have become friends to me too. But I still hadn’t realized the long journey it takes to become a teacher. All the exams, certifications, permits, trainings (mandatory, required, essential!), and all the preparations they do throughout the year to be ready for the children in the classroom. I have always heard of good teacher shortages, and I now know why. It is a long process, and a demanding journey for a profession that is famed for less pay especially in the Bay Area. But all of this has only made me respect teachers more. 

On one side, it means only those who truly want to teach come to the profession, but on the other hand, I feel we are missing out on talent that future generations could benefit from. I do not know what the solution is.

As part of our teaching credential, they asked us to name one reason we each chose to become a teacher. The answers were varied : community, giving, learning, children, growth. But whatever it is, I beamed around at my fellow teachers-to-be. They are all a little polymathic in their abilities and interests. Artistic, analytical, curious, cogent, enthusiastic and genuinely considerate and intelligent. The children who will be benefiting from them are lucky indeed.

Please wish me luck in this endeavor. Becoming is a journey.

Good! Nothing! Good-For-Nothing Answers!

Nothing Good!

“How was your day?”
“Good!”

“What did you do?”
“Nothing!”

For years, this was the standard response I got from the children after school. Never one to be deterred though, I’d redirect, prod, ask specific questions: What did Shriya say about your new drawing pencils? Did Shrinik do somersaults after lunch today also?

You see? The thing is, I could not imagine their school to be a place where nothing happened, and the best adjective for the day was ‘Good!’. I knew for a fact that they listened to their teacher read out stories, they hopped along the number line, slid up and down through graphs, chased butterflies, had turf wars with sticks and stones, played sharks and minnows in the playground, were enthralled as they enacted civil wars, made the artwork that papered the walls of their colorful classroom, and so much more.

Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.

Then, something wonderful happened.

Dancers Move!

I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms, as a volunteer – sometimes reading out books, other times, teaching experimental science.

One day, we were experimenting with air pressure and force with the kindergarten children. One of the experiments was to blow bubbles to see how the bubbles stayed airborne. It was a lovely windy day, and the bubbles were a joy to teacher, volunteers, and students alike. There were delighted gasps as large bubbles drifted off into the air, and much chasing after the smaller bubbles.

When finally, the class was done, and we headed back into the classroom, the teacher said, “Oh! They have too much energy. They’ll never settle down to sit and do anything now. Let me get them to release some energy first!” I wondered what she would do, as recess was behind us, and lunch time was a while away.

I started laughing when I saw her switching on some music. “Dancers Move!”, she said, and the children seemed to know what to do. I watched mesmerized as the little ones danced to the music. What a wonderful way to blow off some extra energy?

“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” —Albert Einstein

I thought everyone danced!

I narrated the whole thing to the teenaged son later that day as went on a windy day walk, and he laughed, “Yes! I remember doing that all the time!”

I tell you.

“All those times I asked you how was your day, and you said ‘Good!’, you danced in school?” I said, flustered more by this than the whipping winds.

“Yes…but don’t you see? It was good. Yes. But we did it all the time. It was nothing new.”

“Why do you think I yearned to hear about your days? We didn’t dance in the office!”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that! I thought every one danced!”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It is true isn’t it? He didn’t know what our days were like. If anything, our days were good too. Just not listening-to-stories, playing-with-air-bubbles on windy days, and dancing to let-off-steam good.

So, what do your good days look like? You know? The days you do nothing.

Please share, I’d love to hear.

The Fragility of Trust & Vulnerability

Potential

I was regaling our little school reunion to one of my friends, and found myself thinking back fondly. My classmates who had arranged the whole affair did a fantastic job. They had booked the whole hotel for our reunion class, and we found ourselves in a position where we meandered in and out of the different hotel rooms, the banquet areas downstairs, and chatting in the hallways and lifts. 

 I was quite surprised how easily we fell into familiar patterns and opened up to each other after all these years. Life had not been kind to many of us at many points in time. The strength of character that builds over time was inspiring to see in many. 

When I asked my father, who was a teacher in the same school, what he thought of folks and where they landed up later in life, he said it was the potential of humankind that drew him to the profession. All the ways in which the children grew in their capabilities, took on responsibilities, navigated changing landscapes and relationships – all with what is given to us. 

In some sad cases, that potential remained unrealized. All the different ways in which we were tested was shared and received with compassion by the kind ones, and some (polite) scorn by the meaner ones. It truly was illuminating to watch the different ways in which we had grown older. 

Vulnerability builds Trust

“Did people really talk about their trials and tribulations and not just thump their chests about their triumphs? “, asked a friend of mine when I was telling her about it, and I laughed. 

I was surprised too, but then I realized that there is a shared space of trust built up during childhood that makes us both open and fragile with each other. Also if you have seen someone drool over their notebook in maths class, or get pulled up for not doing their homework, there is a good chance you tend to take their bragging and suffering with a forgiving air. If you’ve soothed each other through your fears and worries, wouldn’t you be more willing to share your life story with them?

Vulnerability seems to be an important component of trust, and as children, both were easily available, before society conditioned us out of it.

“Trust is a product of vulnerability that grows over time and requires work, attention, and full engagement.” – Brené Brown

That is probably why we were able to laugh at ourselves and embarrass ourselves with equanimity. Life felt suddenly very short and too quick when we looked back on it. There we were,  not children trying to daydream through a boring lesson anymore, but adults who had navigated life to the best of our abilities.

Where did all the time go?

I came back with a renewed sense of shoshin, and regaled the children with tales of our childhood. They rolled their eyes but also indulged me. It is good for them to realize that their parents were not born this way – adults taking care of medical appointments, paying bills, dealing with insurance matters etc. But that we were children who dawdled on their way to class, who were punished for not completing their homework on time, or being silly and laughing for no apparent reason and getting into trouble for it.

That life is over too soon is a rather better complaint to have than the opposite wouldn’t you agree ? That is what I wish for everyone. A chance to look back, smile, feel light , and still be able to smile thinking of tomorrow. 

It Takes a Village

It was going to be a busy weekend. 

“I’ll try my best to make it and may just stop over with my father – even if I am a little late. Hope that is okay.” I said to my friends. They had kindly invited us for my school alumni dinner – the pater taught at the school for around 30 years and I could see it was going to be a lovely occasion. 

I walked into the daughter’s room. She was getting ready for her high school graduation the next day. She was decorating her graduation cap: she had drawn the picture of waves on which she intended to write the college name. I admired the waves so beautifully done and was pumping for that one to be used. 

The daughter’s drawing

“I don’t want to cut through the center of the ocean right there and spoil it.”

“You don’t need to Moses. You can paste over that so you don’t spoil the picture.” I said.

“Ha! Very funny! “

“Don’t worry, I will do something else!”, said the girl and settled down happily to some music and picked out her glue and art supplies. A few hours later, a beautiful hat with blue satin roses and other things tastefully aligned and decorated emerged. I gasped at the simple artistic beauty she had managed to achieve on a small hat.

As I sat there at the daughter’s high school graduation ceremony the next day, I hadn’t quite expected such a grand affair. There were proud parents, siblings, teachers, and of course, the high school children themselves. The hilarious stories of high school were swishing and swirling in the throngs as the names of the children were called. 

It seems only yesterday that we were all shoo-ed out of the pre-school classroom after dropping the 3 year old daughter. I still remember that lump in my throat as I forced a smile on my face. My eyes were beginning to smart. Blinking rapidly, I moved out so she would not see my acute feelings – in a room full of new children, new teachers, how would this child settle down? Well, she did settle down, and went on to enjoy her schooling.

Looking at the faculty who gathered there, I could see the joy and satisfaction with the set of children in the class of 2022. I thought of all the people in her life who had genuinely cheered and believed in her.

  • All her teachers, coaches, parents of friends, after school teachers, administrative staff.
  • The love of arts, dance and music being instilled by teachers who showed her the larger life and the elements to being happy and fulfilled despite academic and other life pressures.
  • All the volunteers and parents, who over the years, had set aside time to foster an environment for growth, learning and encouragement.

All the science fairs, debate tournaments, plays, dance and music performances, Ted Talks, sporting events : everything flashed before me in that beautiful instant when the children threw their grad caps up together in one harmonious, energetic motion. It truly does take a village to raise a child. I am so grateful to each of you who believe in our children and genuinely root for their happiness and success. Thank you!

Looking back at that first day of the daughter’s school through to the high school graduation, the days felt long at times, but the years incredibly short. 

The next day, the father & I attended the dinner with my high school alumni. We sat around the table, and as the stories and reminiscences tumbled over one another, a warmth filled the room. Like fine wine, the stories had textured beautifully with the passing years. Tales of haunted houses, maypole dances, plays with many children starring as actors, escapades of school mischief etc flew around the room. Teachers were remembered fondly, and the tales from the heartlands of the Nilgiris somehow managed to capture the misty rapture. Time and distance did not seem to matter much. 

It was apparent in that conversation that night, that the teachers had passed on to the children in their care, values and a way of life that we appreciate more in retrospect than in the throes of youth. It reminded me of this quote of Miss Read with regards to her old and esteemed friend and colleague who taught through 4 decades. 

Book:  Miss Clare Remembers

“She could only pass on to them the philosophy which sustained her throughout her life. She could teach them to face whatever came with calmness and courage, to love their families and their friends with unswerving loyalty, and to relish the lovely face of the countryside in which they lived. It might seem a humdrum, day-to-day set of values, but Dolly Clare knew from long experience that they could carry a man bravely through a lifetime’s vicissitudes.”

Miss Read, Miss Clare Remembers

On the way back after that dinner where we had relived the beautiful experience of school, I wished the same for the high school daughter, and the wishing-to-attend-Hogwarts son. The joys of friendships, shared spaces, tales of teachers, escapades and laughter.

Shoshin Seeking & Science Writing

Shoshin is a concept dear to me as regular readers know. Shoshin is the Zen Buddhist word for ‘beginner’s mind’, denoting the capacity to bring wonder and open-mindedness to learning anything.

To continue the quest in Shoshin seeking,  I volunteered to take an online writing class with a focus on Science for elementary school children. 

img_1763

The idea for the class was inspired by multiple factors:

(1) A sense of wanting to be useful while doing the socially responsible thing of staying home during the Corona-virus shelter-in-place. 

(2) My brain after years of running around from Place A to Place B found a method to calm down from the frenzied lifestyle that modern man prides himself on (The Virus is a reminder of something lost long ago – an essay by Alan Lightman – a writer and physicist at MIT) 

(3) Combining the marvels of Science and keeping the wonder of Shoshin alive is pretty much what my writing has been about (at least in the past 1/2 a decade). An area of passion that I was happy to share with the children, from whom I learn Shoshin in spades.

(4) A love for children and young minds has me yearning to be like them on multiple levels. I live precariously through this yearning by reading children’s books, squabbling childishly with my own children, and much more.

The result of this was a marvelous month in which I went about reading topics that had long since been pushed to the back of the brain. I wondered as I prepared for the classes, how we wasted those marvelous moments of youth with all these fascinating subjects. I understood as the class went on:  sometimes the children were enthusiastic and wanted to write all about the topic under discussion. Other times, they liked the sound of music-like science lilting in their ears, and they nodded along sagely. The rays of the afternoon sun filtering in through the window made for warm, cozy sessions in which one saw one’s friends on the zoom call, and answered when one felt like being a part of the discussion. This was nothing close to the normal they knew, but they adapted with ease and their customary good sense. All in all, it made for a marvelous time, and with the children happy, so was I, their teacher. 

If post-Covid, some children recall sunny afternoons with thrilling science to a background of their classmates trilling in the background, while taking a leap of imagination, it is time well spent, in my opinion. 

I remember distinct moments when something piqued the children’s attention. The time I told them about giraffes in the savannah, or when we played the little game of hearing frequencies, or when we spun off pretending to be whales using sonographic techniques to unearth something really unexpected.

I am going to sign up for another 4 week session in which I hope to have as much fun, learn as much and enjoy the companionship of younger authors, who are by  virtue of their youth also leaps ahead in imagination and spirits.  Wish me luck!

Missing Chemistry Lab?!

“How are you managing to do Science experiments during these Covid times?” I asked the daughter as she munched on a cookie while on a diatribe about her latest Chemistry assignment.

“Oh we do it online. You can tip stuff into test tubes with your mouse, and it shows you what happens.” she said with a shrug, and I must tell you, I paled.

Wasn’t the whole fun of Chemistry lab the hissing noises as two unlikely elements reacted? Or the joy of seeing the colors change inside the test tube as you held it up to be seen by the light? The bright copper sulphate blue, the lilac, the pinks and turning neutrally to white letting out fumes? What about the olfactory? The hydrogen sulphide that sent us gagging towards the windows with the rotten egg smells. (The fact that we made it straight to lunch after a Chemistry lab with H2S and tucked in with an enormous appetite speaks volumes to the marvelous feeling of youth.)

Chem_lab

I said as much to the daughter, and she gave me the pitying look she reserves for me when she senses that I miss my school days. “It’s just Chem Lab, it will be fine! Don’t worry!”

“Should I just forget about those eggs I bought a while back, so you can experience the rotten egg smells to your heart’s content?!” I asked solicitous.

She roared with laughter at this and said, “Your cooking is Chemistry enough Mother!”

It was in part conversations like this that peppered my read of Oliver Sacks’ Uncle Tungsten, A Chemical Boyhood.

uncle_tungsten

His journey with the Sciences and his joyous epiphanies as he realized the neat order of things, and his poetic joy  as he traversed the Periodic table, gave me a new appreciation for the Periodic table too. In his words,

“Chemical exploration, chemical discovery , was all the more romantic for its dangers. I felt a certain boyish glee in playing with these dangerous substances, and I was struck in my reading, of the range of accidents that had befallen the pioneers. Few naturalists had been devoured by wild animals or stung to death by noxious plants or insects; few physicists had lost their eyesight gazing at the heavens , or broken a leg on an inclined plane; but many chemists had lost their eyes, limbs and even their lives, usually through producing inadvertent toxins or explosions.”

Chemistry, is tucked so far away in my consciousness, that I reveled in the beauty of it all almost anew. Glimpses of my committed Chemistry teachers in my youth came to me. I remember the feeling where their passion for the subject came through as they explained how the electrons revolved around the nucleus, the atomic weights, the inert gases and all the rest of it. I can vaguely begin to recognize how it must’ve felt to wax eloquent about the structural wonders in the world around us, to a bunch of mildly interested, if not completely indifferent, teenagers.

If ever there was a profession that was steeped in delayed gratification, teaching must be it. Why does it takes us decades to realize the stalwarts who did their best by us?! I tried putting all of this into words as I discussed the book with the daughter, and she said, “Yeah age makes you kooky I suppose. Must find the chemical reactions for that!” She laughed at her own wit while I  scowled. Slowly, she donned a far-off look, and said, “You know? Chem is just fine if he doesn’t keep having us go back and write out our mistakes for him so we show him why we made the mistake! Really! He is a grumpy old man and he is only twenty!”

I guffawed out loud at this – I must remember to ask about this Chemistry teacher of hers a few decades from now.

The Music of Guttural Sounds

“What happened?” I said the concerned mother note seeping into my voice when I heard a guttural moan. The sound I heard started with a low pitch , and then increased in volume and intensity towards the end of the gut-wrenching sound.
“Uuurrrgggghhhhhh!”
“What?!”
“What happened?” I asked again for teenagers do not take kindly to having to reply in full sentences after they have felt the need to emit guttural sounds like the one just described.
“Are you missing your friends?” I asked by way of sparing the child the need to speak.

guttural_sounds

“Nooooo..” said the g.sound emitter.
“Well, glad to hear that young lady. I will just send an insta to your friends.”
She laughed because one does not use Instagram to send certain kinds of messages apparently! But the laugh loosened up the neurons controlling speech, for she went from uuuuurrrrgggghhhh to garrulous in 3 seconds. A Ferrari could have taken lessons.

“You know? I really thought high school would be more fun! Like, all these TV shows and you-tubers make it seem. I mean you know how they keep telling you about how kids are on high scale social mode? Parties and stuff.”

“What do you mean?” I asked concerned that a Freudian moment was approaching. Was the child having trouble of some sort? I tugged my super-mom tights on in my mental image (I always imagine super moms wearing Elastigirls costume, and I got to tell you those tights don’t sit well on my short-ish, mother-of-two frame), and waited for her to continue.

Helen_Parr
By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57814521

“You know?!” she clucked impatiently, and I was glad to see her brisk impatience make a show again. “All these you-tubers have you think that high school is one long party, and that you just cannot manage all the different parties, and still find a way to study!”

“Hmm…Corona put a stop to that?” I asked. Friends have been sharing topics on loneliness and mental health during these times.

She gave me a pitying look.

“Gosh! Nothing of the sort – we go nowhere, and this is not even Corona-times. I am talking like normal times. I mean, come on! I sometimes take a walk with Shrubs (the nickname she has for her friend) around the neighborhood, sweet talk you into getting me a boba tea sometimes, go to classes and come back. Where is all the partying?” she asked with such sincere yearning that I burst out laughing.

“Well you sometimes go to make stuff for your clubs and such right? In any case, do you want to have that lifestyle?”

“Well .. not exactly. But it would be nice to have that kind of life once in a while, don’t you think? You know – not know which party to go to. I mean I love my little group of friends – but just think! Well…you know what? Having that sort of non-stop fun must be killing those folks right now. This Covid stuff must be really hard. ”

“Isn’t it hard for you though? Do you miss hanging out with your friends?” I asked.

“Sometimes! But this way, I get to hang out with those I want to anyway on FaceTime, and I don’t have to hang out with those I don’t want to. ” and she shrugged.

I have always admired how children adapt and respond to situations.  They wore masks because it was what you had to do. They stayed indoors for the most part, apart from a social-distancing walk.

“You poor things. Why don’t you come and play with me – we’ll play a nice little game tonight.” I said magnanimously offering our company. I should have known better after all these years.

“Nope! Rather moan about stuff! And amma! One more thing. Stop acting like you are on a summer vacay or whatever okay? We have so much work to do. I mean teachers are just getting better and better at assigning stuff to us. ”

“So was that what that uuurrrggghhhh about? I thought you had a pig in labor in your room!” I said.

She guffawed at the simile and said, “Oh that is because we had to correct our Chem test and how! We have to write what we got wrong, why we made the mistake in the first place, and write out the correct answer! ” she said sounding indignant. “Really! Teachers think they have to keep us busy and go on assigning more and more stuff! They can chill right?”

I chuckled. What a warming thought for Teacher Appreciation Week she had?

‘You want to chill? Or you want them to chill my dear?”

“Well…both. How about we chill with a boba tea?” said the sly vixen.

I gave in, and the pair of us sipped the tapioca pearls with a satisfying slurp and emitted a ‘glllluuuuuggg ggguuullllppp’ topped with a giggle. Guttural sounds are musical.

Teacher Appreciation Week

I hovered near the bookshelf – like a child hovering around the glass-pane of the candy store, Looking for that perfect piece of sweet : something familiar, good and a slight twist to wake up your cells every time.

It has been a long and stern day filled with purposeful adults, all filled to the brim with the cares of living, earning a living, and forgetting to live. My brain looked for a release, and a mode to thrive.

I picked up a book of short stories by one of my favorite authors: P.G.Wodehouse.

18-carat-kid

Eighteen Carat Kid and Other Stories: I opened the first page and was pulled in like an elephant to the early morning waters in the forest.

Paragraph 1:
“There is something always going on in a private school.
Beyond breaking up fights, stopping big boys bullying small boys, preventing small boys bullying smaller boys, inducing boys of all sizes not to throw stones, go on the wet grass, worry the cook, tease the cat, make too much noise, climb trees, scale waterspouts, lean too far out of windows, slide down the banisters, swallow pencils, and drink ink because somebody bet them they wouldn’t, I had very little to do except teach mathematics, carve the joint, help the pudding, play football, read prayers, herd stragglers into meals, and go round the dormitories at night to see that the lights were out. ”

Both my parents were teachers (my father was a teacher in a residential school – public schools as they are called in India, private school in the US & UK) I sent the snippet to him, and he heartily took a trip down the memory lane and agreed in his booming, hearty voice that addressed assemblies without mikes, that there never was a dull day in his teaching career. Being a vegetarian, he did not often have to ‘carve the joint’ , but that apart, pretty much everything else was true, he said. It is always to good to hear the joy of being a teacher coming through.

This week is Teacher Appreciation Week, and I thought of sharing this essay the son had written for his 3rd Grade essay:

Topic: Imagine you are a teacher taking your class on a field trip to Baltimore National Aquarium

The Baltimore National Aquarium

At the Baltimore National Aquarium there is lots of life. This is one of the places where humans and marine life see each other as fun things.Anyway I brought my class with me because the principal wants the kids to experience new things, which I can understand. When we got to the nearest exhibit, I did a headcount of all the students. We were missing 6 of them.Thankfully, I found them near the water (where the animals are) and I gave them a good talk about not leaving the group. Then when I turned around all the other children were scattered. I thought to myself, “This is gonna be a long day.” After that, we went from exhibit to exhibit in the huge aquarium. As we were about to go to the display of skeleton from a dinosaur, we found another class. The kids merged together and the other teacher and I had the same expression: “Kids!” We sorted everything out and went to the dinosaur. I read from the brochure “This is the Shaustasourus, the largest marine dinosaur ever.” After many more mishaps we got back on the bus. For the first time, we had a full class. When we got back none of the kids thanked me for not losing them. Sometimes the world really isn’t fair, but that’s okay. I guess I had lots of fun too.

I guffawed at this piece of writing.

People who imagined the teacher’s job to be putty, are having to re-evaluate their assessments – their puddings of pie children weren’t such darlings when the Mathematics had to be taught by their parents anymore.

This is Teacher Appreciation Week in the US – really what would we do without the steady, positive influence of teachers?