Teacher’s Day, 5th September
Teachers touch lives
To be a teacher, is to touch a life.
5th September is the birth anniversary of Dr. S Radhakrishna, the second President of India. He was a statesman, a scholar and a philosopher. Throughout his life, he has been lauded for his erudition, sagacity and scholarliness, and these have earned him several accolades through his life. These include a knighthood in 1931, the Bharat Ratna, which is the highest civilian award in India, and honorary membership of the British Royal Order of Merit, in 1963.
But more than anything else, he was a teacher. When some of his former students got together to celebrate his birthday, in 1962, he suggested that 5th September be celebrated as Teacher’s Day, in honour of ALL teachers. He believed that ‘teachers should be the best minds in the country.’ From that day, to this, 5th September is a major occasion in all schools, colleges and Universities across India.
Some of that glory filters down to yours truly, even though the only person I try to teach nowadays is the man who lives with me.
Three days ago, on the 5th, from across the world, the kids who I was privileged to have in my lecture rooms, sent me messages through the day and the night, depending on time zones and geographical locations. By nightfall, I was a morass of blubbering humanity. I was laughing some, and crying some…and swamped in gratitude.
Some of the kids I taught have children of their own, and some have even become grandparents. They keep in touch, though, and bring their children over to see me when I am in Mumbai.
I received messages in Hindi, English, Marathi and Sanskrit, all wishing me a happy Teacher’s Day. Some mentioned specific instances that they remembered during their association with me. Of a lesson or lecture that made a lot of difference in their lives. Or some specific way I taught grammar or syntax. Or got them to read books. Or caused them to weep at the beauty of a poem.
I received messages from students I taught 33 years ago…and three years ago.
And then, I received this, half way through the night:
“To my life’s John Keating, thank you for filling our days with so much poetry and magic, and for igniting a lifelong love for words in us. No one like you. Happy Teacher’s Day.”
For a full five minutes, I literally froze.
What does one do, when one has been immured to cynicism, and the constant re iteration of ‘kids don’t care’, and then one gets hit by something like this?
I did not know how to reply. How does one thank the sender of such a message? Words utterly failed me. It took me a long time to reply, and when I eventually did, it sounded both lame and inadequate.
Some of the I taught had to set out from their homes at 4.30 am and 5 am to reach in time for my 7 am lecture in their classes. Monsoon times were the worst, because it meant delayed trains, wet and slippery roads, and potentially life -threatening potholes. But that didn’t stop them from attending my lectures. Sometimes they reached five minutes late: and despite my draconian rules of punctuality and discipline, I would let them in to class. How could I resist that imploring, beseeching look, as the student stood, wet and shivering, outside the door?
It is a strange and inexplicable bond, that of teachers and students. We are not related by blood, or breeding. We are together for six months, or a year at the most. And yet, no relationship that has transpired, before, or since, can come close to that one inviolable bond. It passes all logic, and all sense of reason and rationale. But there it is.
One of the lowest paying jobs in the world, is the highest regarded one. Because if there were no teachers, there wouldn’t be any other profession, would there?
ⓒ 2023 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
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