Epiphany

-->

It was time to say bye. One of those customs I hated doing even when it was bidding adieu to something that was good while it lasted and I was moving on to greener and perhaps more promising pastures. In that bubbling melting pot of nostalgia, sadness and strange optimism, there was also an easy calm that gnawed my insides. As I cleaned my table of all the books, it dug deeper into my chest.

I had been teaching for 2 years now. I had established myself as a teacher noted for her passion. I dabbled in different subjects and widened my horizons. My personality and my teaching gradually evolved into a more confident and mature role. I shared a lovely relationship with all my students.

 Everything was fine. Except one class.

They were not a bunch of hooligans who would disrupt the class at every possible juncture, and bring the roof down. They certainly didn’t bully me or participate in mass bunking.  They just did not care.

The attendance was good, the class performance was fine. But they did not care. I taught them a subject that didn’t require to be studied; advertising. My classes were infused with many videos, analysis of ads, interaction and assignments that demanded only creativity, yet they were unperturbed. They stonewalled all my attempts to motivate them. Even then, they did not do so with a dramatic walk out or even a snigger, but with a wry smile.

It was at that point that I realized that indifference was more powerful than hate.  Even if a person hated me, it meant that somewhere I was part of their thought process and thereby there was scope for change. When they don’t care, when you don’t really ‘exist’ nothing can change.  Up until then, that was the biggest disappointment of my career, that I could not fathom why this class behaved this way. Feedback sessions with the students were futile. My attempts to make the classes more interesting didn’t help. I was alone, introspecting, again and again.

As I was packing, one of the students from that class, peered into the staff room, hesitantly, and asked if I had a minute to spare.  She thrust a tiny envelope into my hand that read “Dear Shakti Ma’am’” in her beautiful calligraphic handwriting. “ I heard you are leaving, I just wanted to give you this “she mumbled under her breath and disappeared before I could complete the thank you.  I hadn’t told the class that I was leaving. I didn’t feel like.

Shreya.She was one of the quietest girls in the class. One of the prettiest too. She sat in the left corner, second bench and took copious notes. She made eye contact at times, but rarely smiled. The first thing that struck about me was her beautiful handwriting. But when the class projects came, I was floored. She oozed of creativity; one of those rare minds that you feel would be a crime if it ever went to waste. She hardly spoke in class and I barely interacted with her as well.

 A tiny little card emerged from the handmade paper envelope and read “ Dear Shakti Ma’am, Thank you very much for your classes. We will really miss you.”

Those were the most eloquent words that I had ever read.

And the best compliment I had ever received.

Perhaps I was also too pre-occupied with the big picture that I failed to look at the finer details. Lots of students have waxed poetic about my classes. Many of which I would take with a pinch of salt.

But Shreya had, in her own soft, inconspicuous style done more than that. She silently reaffirmed the faith in myself.

She was probably speaking for the class out of politeness. But the tiny drop in the big ocean was enough and was all that mattered.

 I was ready to say Goodbye.

PS: Shreya Chakravathy now a budding Graphic Designer from NID designed this blog for me. Its been a pleasure to see her grow, and to see our relationship grow in more ways than one. Thank you Shreya for everything.