A World Without Teachers

 

Imagine a world without teachers.

Not such a far-fetched idea you’d say, considering the changing world and the engagement of artificial intelligence and smart knowledge engineering. Robots taking over the talking. A specified software to deliver the curriculum and the freedom to change your chat bot! Undoubtedly, Science and technology are tools integral to human development. And while science explains matter, technology is all about the experience, a digital transformation.

But before we measure our readiness to live in a world without teachers, we must pause and ask ourselves the following questions: Are we ready to hand over our fate to a faceless machine? Do we agree on forfeiting our human connections? Will technology support our ethics while allowing us to exercise our free will?

If you struggle with answering these questions, just walk into a classroom today.

The teacher will be waiting for you, so do not be late. She has carved certain expectations because she believes in your abilities. You love craft work, so she has added in some kinesthetic activities to customize your experience. She has jotted down a plan for the day but is ready to make modifications if you are experiencing a personal struggle. She can read your sorrow and will lend you an ear to drown all your pain. She knows that your academic performance isn’t just about your grade, it is also influenced by your narrative, and where you stand in life. She will not judge you. Trust, conviction, expectation, persuasion, and hope will create a relationship that will place human happiness and well-being on top.

Your teacher will remind you of your talents when you’re feeling unsure. She will scan every stationery shop to buy the right tools for you to start polishing your skills. When you stand up to speak in front of the classroom, she will nod her head in agreement to get you started. She will filter all the negativity and replace it with assurance and optimism. Later, you will find a personalized note left at your table praising you for displaying courage and confidence.

Yes, teachers deliver the curriculum, but they also nurture the future generations. They hold strong ethics and are navigated by a sound moral compass. They transform learning into curiosity and exploration, not just of the subject, but of self. They recognize the rights of the children to express their free will, having opinions, contradicting ideas and perpetuating solutions. Teachers infuse patience for discussion, collaboration and a sense of acceptance for the incomplete and the unresolved.

So even though it is possible to imagine a world without teachers, just because we can, doesn’t mean we should!

A world without teachers, will be a world without humanity.

I am my only Hope!

The classroom was quite detached from the rest of the school on the first floor of the Primary section. Some parents walked in to drop off their children as it was a new school and a new environment altogether.

As “H” walked in I noticed that his mother was at his toes whispering and trying to assure him that it was going to be alright. The father greeted me and in that short dialogue figured out that we both were of the same country and shortly after that he motioned his wife to leave as he sweetly stated, “I’m not worried anymore,” translating his faith in me.

Quite soon I discovered that this tall genius was suffering from moderate symptoms of ADHD. A shadow teacher was arranged in view of pushing his performance and primarily to facilitate his completion of class work.

As a teacher, I’ve always worked on maintaining a cordial, motivated and inspiring learning environment for all the students in class. In order to achieve this, I made sure that every child in class was accounted for and enjoyed that celebrity status.

The discussions that often followed our critical thinking questions, were targeted around analysis, evaluations and creativity. I was happy to see the enthusiastic involvement of this child who always came up with the most unique perspective helping me understand that ADHD has nothing to do with the intellect which in these cases proved far more superior then others.

Like every other child in class, I applauded his deep thinking and tried my best to keep his spirits up. In a matter of a month, his essays began to indicate a dislike for the new school and class, particularly his classmates. Luckily at that very point in time, we were studying a reading story named “Going with the Flow” which taught about changes and what it takes to adapt to these changes.

He missed his old school in Pakistan immensely and wished to transfer back soon. I walked up to him one day and gave him some references from the story to help him accept this change in life and told him that his class mates were also very friendly and kind and he would settle in soon. As I looked across the class to win him some of their nods, I found the class response careless and cold. I thought to myself, “They probably need more time to sensitize themselves to this special needs child.” After all they were just 10 years old.

Term 2 was the hardest. The community revolted against a teacher who gave preference to children from her own community. I was called in by Administration on many occasions to give clarifications on being tagged unfair and unjust. I faced the hatred of some parents on meetings where they openly said that they would talk to the authorities to get me replaced.

This antagonism was tiring and there were days when I felt completed defeated. I loved these children a lot and strangely felt the strong emotion their side too, but it was controlled and cautiously monitored.

The essays of “H” began to resonate his dislike of the class with more ferociousness. He spoke about no compassion and no sense of responsibility. He created pictures of total chaos and anger. I reached out to the school councillor. She came in to the class room for a few observations. She spoke to the boy in confidentiality and reported bullying during break in the form of threats to hurt him and on certain occasions a push here and there.

Every morning during the home room period I spoke to my children about building character through adoption and practice of the different positive personality traits. That day, I decided to address this issue of bullying. When I questioned the students about the various incidents, I could clearly see the majority stand up for their community and deny any such occurrence. They spoke with insensitivity and a strong dislike for the boy. He on the other hand raised his hand impatiently to splurge his side of the story too. As I motioned him to speak, he said, “They have no respect for you or anyone. They push me and laugh. They don’t want to learn. They are never going to succeed in life. They are crazy and dangerous. That’s why, I don’t wish to stay here anymore. They will never learn. I really don’t know why you waste your time on them!”

The last sentence was a culturally sensitive one, spoken in sheer anger and disappointment. I calmed him down and explained to them as a class that we were a team and the survival of any team depended upon the commitment of each member to safeguard the rights of each other and feel safe and protected. On the front, the heads all nodded but I was still unsure of how to take the matter further.

The next few days were a little calm but then again, the childish wars began. Each time, I had no choice but to intervene and each time it was about standing by your community. The issue was beyond me and so I requested the school to handle it through their discipline policies.

Professionally I was somewhere and nowhere at the same time. I continued to work on their personal grooming addressing character traits the first 15 minutes of school every morning. I didn’t accept the swinging and talking during the National Anthem despite being labelled finicky and I didn’t give in to the pressure of becoming a little flexible with their nannies completing their homework. I crossed it with a zero and didn’t budge to change it otherwise.

My student grades escalated from Term 1 to Term 3 and the results I believed would be proof of my strong commitment to quality and progress for every child.

I was placed on a high pedestal as a teacher and there were strong indicators from management that I would be promoted towards planning and development to better structure the school curriculum. It made me happy as I felt that 12 years of teaching had given me enough insight to build on to plans that would help the children become independent learners and effective communicators of peace and tolerance.

Term 3 was eye opening. The class room stories of annoying him and her continued off and on and by now I could identify clearly the boy who created all this trouble. Sadly I knew there would never be a solution with the community rejecting anyone different.

I was called into the Admin office and informed that the pressure of the community was immense in regards to hiring a Pakistani teacher to teach an American Curriculum. There were parents sending in CV’s to replace me. They didn’t care about the academic growth of their child. They were not going to pay the high fee to have a Pakistani teach their child. I sat there trying to sink in the reality of the situation.

I was further informed that the ministry as well pressured the school in round about manners to hire native speakers to key positions and that pretty much summed up my entire year’s work for me. They felt I was an effective teacher and offered me the similar position for the next academic year.

I was deeply saddened by their stance on the discrimination. I had faced rejection on so many ends the entire year and I wondered if I had been a fool wasting my time on them as “H” had indicated.

 “They have no respect for you or anyone. They push me and laugh. They don’t want to learn. They are never going to succeed in life. They are crazy and dangerous. That’s why, I don’t wish to stay here anymore. They will never learn. I really don’t know why you waste your time on them!”

Somewhere I started to give up on this dream of believing in myself and my abilities to make a difference in anyone’s life. I felt it had all been a waste.

Engrossed in my thoughts I stood with my class in the assembly line watching these children laugh and jump around. Suddenly the bully of the class, a young local, pushed “H” hard and motioned him to move back so he could stand in front of the line. I reached out and warned him about using his hands or any physical contact. He showed his anger through glares all the way to the class. As soon as he entered the class he walked up to the chair of “H” and kicked hard.

I pulled him out in front of the class. It was the end for me. I asked him why he disliked the boy. He was timid in his responses and said, “There is no reason.” I faced the class. “Would you kick anyone without a reason?” There was a unanimous NO.

He quickly made up an excuse saying, “I was only playing with him.” Before I could respond to it there were a session of questions lined up by the children in my class for him to answer.

“Is pushing someone a game?”

“If you wanted him to play with you, couldn’t you ask politely?”

“You never play with him ever. What made you so kind today?”

“You always hit him and make fun of him.”

“Has he ever hurt you? He is kind, respectful and intelligent. You are jealous of him.”

It was a moment of accomplishment for me. The class had held a child from their own community accountable for his actions. They demanded answers from him and stood up with “H” who asked a simple question looking in the eyes of this local boy, “What did I do to make you so angry?”

The picture of this moment will stay with me a long time. I was a fool to give up on my dreams. And what was my dream? It was the entire episode that unveiled itself right through this testing year.

Change in attitudes is the most difficult battle to fight. But it remains the most important one in my life. For many, I may be a fool to return a teacher next year, but to me, I am my only hope!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eastern And Western Packages

My life has always been quite surprising with regards to my state of mind! On days when I am absolutely positive and prepared, it can really topple my confidence with its unpredictable swings. On the contrary, when my anxiousness appears to be the order of the day, it elevates me to astounding heights!

This ebb and flow sunk into my nervous system which was jittered and calmed by the following events which happened coincidently or with a purpose in a sequence.

“It’s a good school and the KHDA has rated it well. I think we should get our children registered there for the next academic year,” my husband suggested having reservations about their present school. “I think we should approach the Admissions Office in time or they might put us on the waiting list,” he continued determined to change their school.

We completed their papers and met all requirements mentioned on the school website and drove in with hope to find them a place for the coming year. The ladies at the reception were from India and guided us through to the admissions office. While I filled in some forms handed over to me by the Admission Officer, my husband walked about the corridors getting a feel of the place.

The fee was paid and the boys got registered to be called in for an entrance exam on a later date. “Do you think I should also drop in my Resume for them to consider me for an appropriate position next year?” I asked my husband who confirmed it as a good idea. I met with the PA to the Principal who too was an Indian by origin.

She quickly glanced at my CV. “If you don’t mind my asking you, where are you from?” I smiled and answered, “I am from Pakistan.” She nodded her head taking the conversation forward. “You do understand you cannot be given an administrative post here,” she looked at me. I got a little confused. “And what do you define as an administrative post?” I asked her trying to clear any doubts in my mind. “Well, it says in your CV here that you have worked as a Curriculum Specialist. That post level is only given to British Certified Teachers!”

“And why is that?” the question practically fell from my mouth. She gave me a sarcastic look. “If you place your child in a British Curriculum you would want your child to have that accent! You will not compromise on anything less than that! That influence and contact is important to Asian parents.” I was surprised at her acceptance being an Asian herself.

I knew the conversation would not end fruitfully. “Ms. X, just help me understand this. If I am in an administrative post, I don’t really interact with the child much. It’s always the teacher who holds the maximum influence and contact as you say. So, how many British teachers does your school have?”

She became a little uncomfortable. “Well, we have a few but our policy is like that.” She flipped a few pages and asked me, “How come you haven’t mentioned your nationality and age on the resume? It’s the basic information required!” she had now decided to even up.

“I don’t think my profession is defined by my place of birth or my age. I am a teacher and to me that is a Universal term. If you would have paid attention to the details in the resume, you would have considered me as someone with a good qualification and experience in the field.” I was completely ticked off by now.

“Well all I can say is that we have high standards to meet and if we do consider your CV, we’ll give you a call.”

I left completely annoyed by her logic. As soon as I sat in the car my husband asked me what was wrong. I related the incident to him. He suddenly took a U turn and brought me back to school.

 “I want you to go and speak to the Principal about this woman’s attitude and racist comments. Also inform them that we will not be admitting our children to their Psycho-School!” I looked at him a little unsure. “Don’t think! What nonsense! All of their staff is Indian. I saw the classrooms and except for two staff members, all were Asian nationalities. The Head of the school must know about how prospective candidates are being interrogated!”

His support helped me understand the need to report the disturbing event.

The Principal of the school was a British gentleman. My presence near his office threatened his PA, the lady who had interviewed me and she came to me, “He is awfully busy today. You will have to wait a long time.” I nodded and sat down. She walked in and out of his office nervously sending in teachers and parents to delay the process hoping I would leave. I stood up and walked up to check if the waiting line of parents had shortened.

“Why aren’t you sitting in your place? You can’t just barge into his office like that! Ma’am please sit down!” I actually wanted to slap her across the face for her high tone and assumption on my intentions but I didn’t want to leave without meeting him.

After waiting for about forty minutes she came to me, “He is very busy but will spare five minutes he said!”

I walked in. He did not stand up to greet instead motioned me to sit down. “You wanted to see me?” he asked. “Mr.Y, my husband and I got our children registered with your school an hour ago but I must tell you I’m most disappointed by the School philosophy and policy which was put forth to me by your PA.”

“Is that so,” he acted surprised, “and what did she say to you?” I related the incident to him in a calm manner as the purpose was to let him know and not fight.

“I take it that she was just trying to inform you about the school policy which has been approved by the Ministry of Education. We have two packages. The Western and the Eastern package. I’m not commenting on what is right or wrong, but that’s the way it is.”

“And so, as per the Eastern package, I may never progress or grow in my profession as it’s my misfortune that I was given birth on the Eastern side of the globe?” I asked him smiling.

“Well, if you had a degree from the west it would have helped you more is what I can say!”

“Mr. Y, clearly teachers aren’t made out of degrees but passion. The most passionate teachers are ones who are determined to eradicate intolerance and racism from the society. I can’t be judged by the colour of my skin or be rated by the country of my origin.”

“I believe you are purposely labelling my school as racist and I find that very offending!” he became a little dramatic holding up his hands. “Well, if you are trying to defend the lady and endorse her comments as the policy of the school, then yes, you and your school are by all means racist!” I was firm in my voice. 

He looked at me and said, “Can you prove that she used any racist words or phrases?”

“Racism has no face Mr.Y and I’m sure you know that. I entered your school for its academic brilliance and it didn’t matter to me if all your staff was Indian. For I believe teachers are born with the passion to give. Of course education and training are important, but why would you assume that the candidate who walks into your school is needy and less informed because he/she does not come from the west?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry you feel that way!” 

I stood up to leave. “No Mr.Y, I’m sorry that you feel this way. My Resume clearly states my qualification and the fact that I carry both the Eastern and Western degrees. The very fact that I was cast off before being given a chance is proof enough that your school is an unhealthy place for my children. Thank you for your time.”

A week later I was called in by another school for an interview where the Director of the School, a lady and a complete stranger, delivered these words to me in confidence, “Before you are interviewed by the panel, I want you to know…There is a belief or rather myth in the Middle-East that Asian teachers don’t possess the capabilities to match their western counterparts. Today I want you to break this myth! Your resume is impressive and your confidence is promising. Speak with confidence. I’m with you all the way!”

I had the best interview and was asked to join the school with much pride!

   

Relationships Take Time

The beginning of a new term brings hope for every life that comes in collaboration to meet the basic objectives of growth and progress. Whether it’s the student, teacher or parent, there is the desire to be able to achieve new targets and in some cases, fix or amend the previous year’s errors.

Here, the point that I would really like to highlight is the complicated levels of expectations that come together at one time. Parents look at the teacher as the magician who would sort out their problems at once. The teachers look at the parents imagining a perfect synchronization of thoughts. The students in the meantime carefully study both parties well to absorb their overwhelming energies.

The Orientation Day is specifically organised to break the ice for all joining hands for the coming year. The teachers meet with their prospective students and parents to discuss classroom systems and the School Programme.

In my initial years as a teacher, my focus of discussion with the parents was always the class rules, the class time-table, homework policy and assessment procedures. I thought, once these were discussed and outlined well, the chances of a confused or blinded year would decrease incredibly.

Still as the year progressed, I realized the number of issues related to these class rules, time-table, homework and assessments would always be on a rise. It was baffling. Despite such clear instructions and discussion on policies, the level of understanding and execution would become a task. The entire first term would be dedicated to seeking a common ground to move forward. My entire focus would be meeting humongous expectations to be able to do a good job.

And then with growing years, I learnt that there was one very important point that I would always miss out or forget to discuss on the Orientation Day each year. To most, it was common sense, but to me, if not placed in words it had the power to uproot an entire plan.

“Relationships take time,” I pointed out to a group of parents who sat across the classroom listening carefully. “To think that we have met today and therefore know each other really well now, is an unrealistic and fairy-tale thought!” A few heads nodded in agreement. “I am a teacher. I’m excited to have your children with me this year. I’m sure, each one is special and has plenty of contributions to make. It’s thrilling to have this diversity of thoughts and ideas to learn from.”

The room remained silent. It was an important message that was being conveyed and all were interested to hear and see what the ‘magician with her magic spell’ was planning to do for their children.

“Some of you would like to see your child’s handwriting improve this year and for some, the Literacy skills need to be enhanced. I’m sure each one of you has some hidden desire that places your child on that coveted spot that you truly believe to be his/her destination.” There was agreement.

“I’m more interested in knowing how you’re going to achieve that!” The question came from a concerned father. I handed them all a piece of paper with a pencil. “Please write down your areas of concern related to your child this year. Everything that you would like him/her to achieve.”

The responses were as anticipated. A whole list of concerns, some as long as 10 points. One of them tried to hand me the paper but I motioned him to keep it.

“Now, Look at the list carefully again. Underline the most important points that you feel cannot be ignored at all.” They followed as instructed. Some understood the objective of the activity and realistically analysed their concerns while others felt strongly that all 10 points were pertinent and couldn’t be ignored. As a teacher I secretly marked the names of these parents to call them in for independent meetings and convince and help them frame more realistic and useful goals.

“I will collect these from you to help work out programmes to engage your children and get you copies to carry home. It is important to discuss these points with your children who at the end of the day will need to put in an effort to make our set plans a success.”

The idea was not to accept or decline any concerns but to help parents understand that each year begins with a few set targets that everyone agrees upon. We have a jumbled up mind to begin with and feel overwhelmed with so much to achieve. Having realistic expectations can free the mind of much anxiety and fear of failure.

In life, we plan to do many things. However, everything cannot happen together at the same time. We need to prioritize and break up our goals onto a time-line beginning with what we consider as the most important.

The journey is spread over a year. To achieve all set targets, teachers need time and space to build a positive relationship with the student primarily and the parent as well. To expect results in a month or two is a false notion. Teachers who promise you rewards in short time periods aren’t really working on leaving long-term impressions.

Like I said, Relationships take time. They need clarity of thoughts. Mutual understanding on objectives and consensus on what’s most important to achieve.

A Class of Interactive Learning

Most terms associated with teaching today invariably come in context with the word ‘interactive’. Whether it is a lesson plan, an activity or a school event, the need for student interaction is compulsory to the attainment of success.

As a Curriculum Specialist I was asked by the School Management to conduct a workshop on “Interactive Teaching” to help equip the Primary Teaching Staff with effective tools to incorporate an environment of interactive learning.

I set out to plan the workshop by listing a set of targets to achieve. When talking about an interactive system of education, it was but imperative to conduct the workshop in a manner that reflected the amount of growth and learning possible through such interaction. Therefore, I decided to attach a little drama and role play to involve the teachers in the learning process.

I began the workshop with a little act. The drama teacher came to my rescue acting as a student. I placed on screen a picture of a horse eating grass. A short dialogue followed where the student identified the horse as a big dog. The teacher is filled with a sense of query and probes into the child’s mind to understand his interpretation of a horse as a dog. She then directs the conversation towards some logical reasoning allowing the student to rule out the possibility of the horse being a dog. And so, without cutting off the child’s observation and jumping to give in the solution, the teacher is able to strengthen the student’s power of speculation and logical reasoning.

There was an interesting follow up discussion amongst teachers who were appreciative of the amount of similarities that the student had been able to define between the horse and the dog. Surely this interesting conversation would not have been possible if the teacher would have simply stated the child incorrect and moved on with the facts. It gave my teachers an opportunity to actually work and understand student levels with this strategy of ‘Peeking into their World’!

Next up, I dressed up myself with a mystic hat accompanied by a pair of dark shades. Some teachers laughed while others clapped to welcome the refreshing act. My next set target was to create an imaginative story along with the teachers using a bell. The hall was noisy with anticipation and I rang the bell to get my silence. I began the story acting like the mysterious character that walks into a strange town and comes across different interesting situations. My job in creating the story was limited to moving the situations forward indicating the need to describe places and people without influencing the drama. Each time I rang the bell, a different teacher would add on a twist to the story and together we were able to create a hilarious story about the “Stranger in Town”.

I had successfully portrayed the role of a teacher as a strong ‘facilitator’. The teachers were thrilled by my performance and clearly agreed how exciting this act would be for the children in the class. Some decided to use this story teller act as a constant in their composition classes. I was happy to see that the students’ imagination would no longer remain limited to our own experiences and ideas.

The next task at hand was to help the teachers realize how important it is to involve our students in planning events and sharing responsibilities to create an awareness of holding a relevant position of importance in their own growth.

Here, I created a classroom atmosphere. I had already placed the teachers in groups. I walked in as a panicked and confused teacher. A few asked me, “What’s wrong teacher?” I informed them that I had been given the task to plan a “Teachers Day” and was completely out of ideas. I then reached out to them to maybe share a few ideas. They began with many different and fun responses and I created a colourful mind map along with them on the soft board. We discussed activities, materials required to enjoy those activities and also the people who were ready to take upon the responsibility to provide the fun on that day.

Opinions were shared and solutions were devised through discussions. Here, the idea of shared learning came across with huge popularity and teachers felt that they carried un-necessary thinking load on their shoulders which could easily be shared with their students.

I then moved on to hand them papers with a uniform shape of a circle and asked them to create something new and interesting with it. In minutes, I was ready to get the feedback. Teachers had used their individual thoughts to create different characters, objects and even scenery from that one uniform shape. They stood up at the podium to share their creative work and got the applause from their colleagues.

It brought to light individual potential and diversity of thought. As a facilitator, I allowed each teacher the time and space to express and share her art work, exhibiting my patience and fair mindedness.

I sat down on the stairs that led to the stage. I was thinking. By now, these teachers had been trained to ask questions understanding my acts. “What are you thinking about teacher?” they asked me behaving like small children. I began to tell them a story. A story about myself when I was their age. I had created a scene out of my own imagination to instigate a conflict of opinions. I told them that when I was 8 years old, my mum dropped me at the salon for a hair-cut. I was in line and waited till it was my turn. However, the lady decided to give her old customers preference and even though it was my turn, she decided to let me wait. I remained quiet and got my turn in the end. I got in the car and complained bitterly to my mum, who simply said, “It’s your own fault!”

The discussion began. Some agreed to my mother’s statement a little annoyed by my silence while others declared their compassion considering my age and the bossy behaviour of the lady at the salon. All in all, there were reasons given and some places the logic was contested by emotional factors. A vote was taken and most teachers voted on the need to speak your mind and uphold the principle of justice. My role through this act was to highlight the courtesy shown by most teachers while expressing their opinions in contrast to the more volatile speakers.

This act was important to me on a personal level as I firmly believe that empowerment of our children begins with freedom of thought and opinion. It is not just important to teach our children to speak their mind but also the tools of positive communication and effective methods to put across their points without offending or abusing the counter view.

The Workshop lasted an hour and I also touched upon some interactive tools that we could incorporate into our classroom systems to further the interaction between our students and ourselves. These included the mailbox, audio visuals and standard items of clothing that could be used at all times to create a little drama and magic for and by the students.

I concluded the workshop with a hand out that I had prepared for the teachers covering all the objectives that defined a ‘Class of Interactive Learning”!

Left Out In The Season Of Hope

The School was new and so was the environment. The change was tremendous for my boys who had been used to the company of mum and familiar faces. I was taking a break from work and had delivered my third child. The campus was huge and we had paid a heavy fee for the School’s upgraded facilities and equipment. The admission process had been smooth but the school began abruptly without any Orientation Day to help children familiarize themselves with their classrooms or teachers.

The School Van arrived and the children left. I had written an introductory note to the teacher in both my children’s diaries as I felt it was important for her to have some information about my child as a new child. I especially informed her about my younger son and his sensitivity to change and expected problems regarding settling in. It was a general note that would help erase doubts and confusion and save time on part of the teacher.

My children returned from school with not much to say. I asked them about their day and they said, “It was ok.” I checked their diaries but found no acknowledgement of receiving or having read the note.

A few days went by with lots of confusion regarding text books and note books. We were new to the system and therefore, each time there was lack of understanding on my part, I would write a note in the diary considering it the most important tool of communication between the school and myself. At times, it would be signed just to let me know that it had been seen, but sadly with no solution given.

After a month, my son began to lose his enthusiasm for school and often argued with me during the homework sessions where I found him lost in his thoughts and dis-interested. One day during the afternoon study, I found him leaning on his elbows, staring at the H.W with his pencil in his hand. “Why aren’t you writing?” I asked him patiently, although my mind was in a panic by now. “I don’t know how to do this.” And tears rolled down his face. He was a creative child and making sentences for him was not much of a problem. I sensed some hurtfulness. Maybe, I was pushing him too much and he needed to relax. As it is, the school was new and level of expectations had changed.

I decided to visit the school and meet with the teacher to understand his behavioural changes better. I was taken to the Principal’s office who was an educated and sophisticated lady on appearance. Before she called in the teacher, she asked me a lot of questions regarding my son and his previous school. She came across as an intelligent woman who collected all relevant information about my son and expressed her compassion, understanding the many changes my son was facing.

The teacher came in a little worried. She didn’t know why I had come to meet her and didn’t feel that my son was having any problems. “He is settling in. He is social and hard working. He needs to improve his writing speed though. And all the time he wants to go to the toilet. Fixing his hair! I mean he is only in Grade 1!” I listened to her trying to grasp the actual problem. “So, maybe it is his slow pace of work that is giving him much anxiety. I think that the change of system is too drastic for him. In his Kindergarten he was used to being taken care of and here I suppose, he’s expected to manage on his own. If you could give him a little time to settle in without this panic, I’ll be so grateful!” I asked her for a little attention and she nodded without too much commitment. “Please if there is anything, I would like you to let me know about it through the diary. It’s very important to communicate in this matter.”

The meeting ended and I felt a little relief having met the people in-charge of my son’s life for almost half the day.

It had not even been a week and my son started to come home with soiled pants. The frightening part was that he would be unaware of the smell and had probably been in it for a while. My children used the school van and that made matters worse. Every day, he entered home with this problem and I began to lose my patience cleaning him. I made him sit down and asked him if there was anything he was upset about. He shook his head but his eyes looked pretty sad. On his third day, I wrote to the teacher asking her to at least get him cleaned before placing him on the van. I asked her if there was anything that was bothering him in class. If she had spoken to him about it?” The note never got signed.

I took an appointment again to meet with the Principal. She was unaware of the situation and when the teacher was called and asked about it, she too expressed her ignorance on the matter. “I had actually written a note to you two days back,” I informed her keeping my anger from showing. “Yes, I saw it but he never asked me to go to the toilet. And he also didn’t tell me that he had soiled his pants!” She answered rigidly. “I don’t think any child would be that brave Ms. X! Plus, it’s so unhygienic! I’m alarmed at your casual approach to such a worrying matter!” In my heart I had started to sense her dislike for my child. Her words repeated from the last meeting, “All the time he wants to go to the toilet. Fixing his hair!” She had probably been stopping him from using the toilet.

I looked at the Principal for some support. She asked the teacher to be a little more vigilant in my son’s case as he was quite obviously struggling to settle in. After she left, I asked the Principal out of curiosity, “How do other parents convey their concerns to the school Ms. Y? Maybe I don’t know about it?” She looked a little embarrassed. “Well, they call or come and meet us. But I promise to keep in touch regarding your child. The teacher is usually quite vigilant but she has been careless in this matter.”

Once again, I left school, this time a little concerned about the remaining term. The teacher had some issue but I couldn’t quite make out.

It took about another week and a lot of patience from my side to help stop the soiling of his pants. I would talk to him about it being an upset stomach problem and gave him medicine to psychologically disperse the issue.

The real torment was seeing his dull eyes. They once sparkled with plans and the confidence of knowing himself. His Mid-Term report was an expected depiction of his situation and his Art teacher had given him an F grade. I had no confusions in my mind now. He was a gifted artist who had held the pencil at the age of two.

I started to consider the plan to take him out of the school when one fine day he came home jumping with joy! I really wondered what had happened. “Mum, see this!” He handed me a circular. The school was holding an Art Mela for the entire school and the theme was Spring. The children had been asked to prepare themselves for the day by drawing and painting at home.

It was a beautiful few days we shared together, drawing various pictures before deciding on one and painting it. He was happy and a complete chatter box. On the day, as he left home to get on the bus, I gave him a kiss wishing him luck and lots of fun.

The bell rang and there was crying. I rushed out to find my son enter in tears. As soon as he saw me, he collected himself. I hugged him and asked him the problem. “I didn’t paint today. The teacher asked me and another boy to stay in class! The whole school was outside painting!” I couldn’t understand and asked him why? “I don’t know. She made the children line up but asked me to stay in class.” Tears were running and he threw his bag in anger.

I was left helpless as it was a weekend. I waited for the week to begin. This time I was not ready for any nonsense and therefore called the Reception to inquire about any criteria to participate in the Art Mela. As expected, it was meant for all children and apparently had been a huge success with everyone. That’s when I informed her about my son having been left out for no reason at all. She said, “I don’t think that’s possible because all the teachers were out with their classes but I could ask the teacher for you.”

She told me that she would ask the teacher to call me. I waited with my heart overwhelmed with my five year olds tears. The teacher came on line. “You know what happened. He came out with me and then wanted to go to the toilet. He then sneaked out to the class and probably that’s why he wasn’t there!” I was angered by her lie. “So, if I do believe that, my son was missing from his place for two hours and nobody noticed?” “How could we have known about it. We were all busy painting!”

I was not going to let her go that easily. I got in the car and drove off to school. I had made up my mind. My son was not going to be with this teacher anymore. She was the sole cause for his pain and hurtfulness.

I informed the Principal who was completely numbed. She called her assistant and asked her to investigate the matter by asking the other child left in class with my son to see if the matter was as put down by my son. She came back to confirm that both these boys had been left in class without any reason. Even the helpers who had gone in to clean the class had asked them why they were not out with the rest. There were enough witnesses but for me, my son’s broken heart was the greatest evidence. Every day he drew and painted a picture depicting the season of hope Trying to prove to all that he had the ability and would have created a masterpiece with a little faith.

The Principal made her plans to deal with the teacher. My son was shifted to another section which proved a little better but the year was completed with many heart breaks.

To this day, I wonder what had instigated that teacher to dislike my child to the point where she became absolutely personal with him. Was it the notes in the diary which aimed at keeping in touch or could it have been my son’s inquisitive nature to ask questions and accept statements only through logic.

As a teacher, I welcome Parental involvement in school as it helps identify areas that need to be worked upon as well as develop new strategies to handle new challenges. I feel schools that have a parent’s say in its running, benefit far more than schools that want the parent to accept their set programmes and get offended by varied opinions.

My friends told me that I had not been too wise communicating with the school that often. It left me baffled as I wondered what parents in my situation did when they saw their child suffer. It was a bad year and we left the school as soon as the year ended.

We Are But Human

The worksheets had been photocopied a day before but my mind had been occupied with so many tasks of the day that I forgot to collect them from the designated room. They were essentially required for the first lesson the following morning and should have been on my table the day before.

As I stood in the assembly hall I was shuddered by the sudden realization of my mistake. It was carelessness on my part and unprofessional in the eyes of the management. My Grade 2’s were busy singing the School Song. I thought of slipping out quietly to make a sprint to the room and collect the sheets but accompanying the students to the classroom was my responsibility as well.

I cursed my forgetful mind as I walked back to the classroom, the children keeping to their line. I didn’t quite realize that my worry and anxiousness had crept onto my face and was showing quite visibly to all.

The Supervisor was a strict lady who got extremely ticked off by such accidents. As I completed my attendance, I decided to take my chances. I knew it would not be possible without the help and co-operation of my students. “Children, I need to go out of the class for about five minutes. I can’t do that with you all making noise or getting up from your places. I was so busy yesterday that I forgot to collect your language worksheets from the office. Can I trust you to sit quietly for just five minutes?” The class gave a half-hearted answer, a little confused by my unusual request and worried face. 

I reached out to my book shelf and distributed paper strips to each one. “Now, while I’m gone, I’d like you to think and write at least three reasons why you believe you should follow the teacher’s instructions to be quiet while she is out of the class.”

I had no time to waste and leaving the door open, I rushed up to the first floor of the building to collect the relevant worksheets. It was a horror to find the door to the room locked. This meant that I now had to look for the gentleman who safeguarded the key in order to acquire the much needed activity sheets. I hurried down the corridor examining all possible spaces but he was nowhere to be found.

A part of me probed me to get back to the class whilst the other directed me to the ground floor with hope to find him in the office block. I made my way to the office block. It was already more than five minutes. I prayed to find him there so that I could reach back in reasonable time to avoid the much anticipated encounter now. The moment I saw him coming out of the Administrative block, I called out to him feeling a sense of relief. He was ever smiling and walked up to the first floor with me to unlock the door and hand me the necessary papers.

As I walked back to my class, I felt immense shame and guilt at wasting such precious lesson time of the children. It had been almost fifteen minutes. As I turned round to enter the classroom corridor, my heart froze at the sound of the Supervisor talking to my students. I knew I was in trouble. I had absolutely no excuse for my silly morning adventure and my careless act.

As I entered the classroom, I saw my Supervisor walking across the room, pausing at each table to read what the students had written upon their paper strips. She looked at me and questioned my late entry with her eyes. I kept the worksheets on my table transferring my apology likewise. She came towards me and spoke loudly, “Mrs Noman, Your children are just fabulous! When I first walked by the classroom I thought the class was quiet because there was a teacher there. Then when I peaked in, I was shocked to see that there was none. They were all busy doing their work and so busy in their thoughts that only a few acknowledged my presence in the class. When I asked them where is your teacher, they said that you had to meet up with some emergency but had given them work.”

I smiled at my students who were relieved to see me smile. “Well done children and I’m very proud of your responsible behaviour!” The last remark was passed on with a little message for me to reflect upon later! She collected all paper strips from the students and asked me to come and meet her in her office during my free hour. After she left, I thanked my students earnestly for their superb behaviour. They had kept their word and had really earned my trust.

The classes went on as usual and as soon as I was free, I went to meet the Supervisor as instructed. She asked me to sit down and relax. Her mood was strangely pleasant. I started off, “I’m really sorry about this morning Ms.X. I don’t know how I forgot to collect my worksheets yesterday. I wasted a lot of time and…,” She interrupted me by saying, “I don’t think you need to fight your case Ms Shama. You have quite a strong Jury in the class it seems. The verdict is in my hand and I’d like to read it out to you.” 

She had a few of my students paper strips in her hand and the stress of the entire morning episode collapsed in the form of tears as she read:

“I will be quiet when the teacher is out of the class because I want to do something good for her too so she feels happy!”

“I will be quiet because my teacher looks worried and I don’t want her to feel hurt!”

“My teacher wants us to be quiet because she needs our help and I will listen to her because she also helps me!”

“I will be quiet when teacher is gone because I love her and she is a good lady! She was busy and forgot to collect the worksheets from the office!”

“I will be quiet because teacher is teaching us good things and she forgot the worksheets and I think its ok!”

“I will listen to my teacher when she is out of the class because there is no one to help her and she is always busy and I want to help her!”

My children had pleaded my case well. They had convinced the Supervisor that their teacher was but human and probably needed some support to erase the possibility of such errors. They had not only understood my emotions of anxiety, frustration, guilt and helplessness but had gone ahead to register them as being natural and excusable. 

The school then assigned a helper to each Key Stage to manage the collection and distribution of worksheets to relieve the teachers of meeting such blunders.

The Tradition Of Hope

Hopelessness is indeed a deeming reality and sadly we come across the term much too often in the world we live in today. It is attached to people, situations, countries and even ideas.

Being an educationist, I do tend to stretch my limits and believe a little more in people, situations, countries and ideas. It is difficult to explain this oddity of mine to most people who like to pull out conclusions based on facts and reality.

Most of the time, the dream in my heart is able to take some shape with a lot of planning in my mind. Often the results are not what I desired them to be, yet they bring me lots of satisfaction as I feel content at having given it a try.

It is a turmoil to watch a structure collapse bit by bit standing at a distance, unable to convince the people concerned of the arriving disaster. To me, that is but the only hopeless moment beyond my control. I feel helpless and often that induces an anger which portrays me in a negative light.

My mentor was a young Indian lady who always reminded me to look for that one strength in any situation or human being before casting them off as hopeless. That one strength would be my chance to discover a whole new possibility to build upon.

With time and experience, I realized that there was much truth to her philosophy. However, it takes a lot of time and slips before you are able to read faces and understand the complexity of minds. It’s a draining activity and many times I was left perplexed by the amount of rigidity in people and ideas. From fixed lesson planning and methodologies in teaching to denial of having gone wrong, teachers can be quite challenging to deal with, especially when the future of the children is at stake.

As a teacher, I was always open to change and experimentation. To me, the child was fundamental and anything that lead to his/her growth was acceptable and worth the effort. I would leave my ego at the door when entering the school. A learner at all times, I could never imagine my way to be the way of the world. I hoped there would always be an alternative to hold onto in case my plans would lose their effectiveness.

Today, education has started to fall into a rigid structure. The possibilities of discovering new methods, ideas and plans to equip a child with a better future have been run over by school policies and redundant programmes. Making a special effort to help out a child in need is considered unfair on part of the rest of the class. There is lack of will and sadly teachers seem to have accepted the system which murders the passion to reach beyond the hopelessness.

A singular child can awaken the mind to so many new dimensions. A failure in a plan can open the door to a whole new world of success. Yet we fail to acknowledge the world beyond our skylines.

If only we could inculcate that faith which upholds the tradition of hope. Where the only way to success is to believe in the potentiality of our creation.