In class 9th, we were once told to pack our bags
and shift to another classroom because of some electricity problem or something
going on in the school. When we reached that classroom, I saw from the corner
of my eye my best friend sitting on a bench and an empty bench beside her. I
would like to believe she was saving it for me but she never called out my
name. Before I could go and ask her, another friend of ours came and sat on
that seat. Since my then BFF didn’t oppose, I assumed she wasn’t saving it for
me and got pissed. In a few minutes, everyone settled down except me and two
other girls because I realized there were no empty seats anymore.
Unfortunately, that room had fewer numbers of benches. The two other girls ran to a neighbouring
classroom and brought chairs for themselves and I followed suit. Just as I was
dragging a chair out of that room, my class teacher appeared at the door and
enquired what I was doing. When I told her, she got angry and told me to sit on
the floor if there is nowhere for me to sit. I did not understand why she said
so. I liked that teacher. She was a bit strict, bit rude, but quite headstrong.
I always thought she was one teacher who
stood up for the right things and at the right time, but that day I couldn’t
understand why she punished me for no fault at all. I was a shy, introvert and
under-confident teenager, you know the ones who know the right answers but
won’t raise their hands in fear of being wrong? I was that. You know why I couldn’t ask my
friend if she was saving the seat for me? Because I never believed anyone would
do it. I wanted people to love me, but was scared of it. Am I making sense?
Nothing made sense that day when I sat on the floor and
hugged my school bag to prevent myself from crying. No friend of mine offered
to scoot and let me sit with them and I just struggled to remember what had I
done that had upset the teacher, was she angry for some other reason? Should I
have asked why she humiliated me like that? It might not sound like such a big
thing to you, but for a fourteen year old girl with no self respect,
confidence, or voice to stand up for herself, it was a deeply insulting
incident that stayed with me.
Half an hour later, our science teacher entered the class.
This teacher did not like me, she had never done. Unlike my class teacher whose
action had surprised me, I wasn’t shocked at all when the first thing this
teacher did was to give me a condescending look and smirk. She did not even
consider me worthy enough to ask me why I was sitting there. She whispered and
asked some other classmates and although there was no reason for it, she gave a
satisfied smile on learning the reason. I had never been anything but polite to
her and she had never been anything but haughty. I could have been angry, I
could have abused her at least in my head. But if I had any sensible voice
inside my head back then, I wouldn’t even have accepted that undeserved
punishment in the first place.
You know how some incidents affect us only indirectly? They
get stored somewhere at the back of our heads play with our emotions. I simply
assumed that ‘I don’t deserve’ was the only reason I sat on the floor that
day. I always scored above average, took
part in activities and did all that an obedient student was supposed to do, but
never could stand up for myself. Never could argue with a teacher or question
anything. I didn’t deserve to.
I am pursuing my Masters degree now. Yes, I have become more
confident, extrovert and fun, but have I forgotten that incident? No. I can
still hear the voice of my class teacher, can visualise the smirk of my haughty
science teacher and see the confused but unsympathetic faces of my friends. But
yes, over the years I have learned to speak.
At the university, when one of the experienced and popular
professors has a lecture, our class usually has more students than the
infrastructure allows. So much that we resort to sitting on the window sills,
standing at the back of the class, and sitting on the floor. When I entered
class today, it was already full. I was almost going to sit on the window sill
when a friend said she was going to sit on the floor at the back of the class
and I said ‘okay, I’ll join you’. I was used to sitting on the window sill or
standing, but when I realized we two were the only people today to sit on the
floor, it brought back eight year old memories of a scared, teary eyed girl who
felt inferior and rejected and who, I realized today, still lived inside me.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind and said ‘Hey,
there could be some space in that row if you request that girl to scoot and let
you sit with her. You don’t need to sit on the floor.’ She pointed to someone
at the front and although I was overwhelmed with her kindness, I was also
overwhelmed with a sudden confidence and self respect. I might have sounded
arrogant, but I’d rather sound arrogant to others than worthless to myself. So
I smiled at her and said ‘Ah! Everyone saw us sitting on the floor. They could
have offered if they wanted to. I’d rather sit here than ask everyone around.
Don’t worry!’ After a few minutes, someone actually scooted and offered me to
sit with them, and I accepted.
I had worked as a teacher with an NGO last year and do not
miss out any chance of telling people about it. Before we had begun our
classes, we were told never to enter a class upset. Students usually reflect
the teacher’s mood and we should be nothing but energetic and optimistic. We
were also told never to belittle a student, his emotions, ambitions or complaints.
If we do that, the child only loses the confidence to further confess anything
to us and we do not want to do that to any child at such a tender age. I’m glad
I learned to leave my own problems outside the classroom and that because of
me, no child will take eight years to realize that if it isn’t his fault, he
should not be the one crying himself to sleep.
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