The day I joined as a teacher was many years since I last attended a school assembly. I remembered all the activities that we did as the morning assembly. Surprisingly distinctly.
How it felt to walk with feet tightly clad in BATA shoes size 11. Making small pentagonal patterns in the sandy assembly ground. Many thousand small pentagons, circles, squares, straight lines on the sandy assembly ground.
How the shock-waves from the drum, propped on the 'X' shaped stand near the entry gate, hitting your chest felt when you passed it. Marching. The proud looking school band students. Exuding an aura as if they were leading the royal band of her excellency.
The shirts and trousers ironed to perfection (by moms and dhobis) and then the shoes shined with damp air from the mouth hoping that some teacher will notice us having put in so much effort and select us as the best dressed of the day.
The students lined up perfectly like some tree farm has forgotten to grow above the trunks. The lazy ones rubbing their shoes on the trousers to hide their lethargy. More tree trunks joining in synchronized steps. Many long morning shadows escorting the trunks to their places so well known to synchronized steps.
Some used to wear non school white socks. Not allowed in school maybe because the school did not get the commission on the non standard ones that are not bought from the authorized (read commissioned) store. Boys used to be at better luck than girls who had no way to hide these socks in those just-below-the-knee skirts. A Byomkesh Bakshi fan teacher on duty will have them raise the trousers to catch the fish that tries to hide behind the stones. Exemplifying their detective skills by conquering an 11 year old's IQ.
Prefects! used to move around the uniform jungle and dragging, moving and putting students here and there to make their rows as perfect as possible. One arm distance to the front and the sides. Who manufactures the standard arms? To me they seemed like expert nurses in hospitals that knew what they are doing, overseeing anyone in the room and the patient the most.
A PT teacher, commander of the assembly would have all the feet thump within the same Milli-second.
Attention! - THUMP!
Stand-at-ease! - THUMP!
TOGETHER!
ATTENTION! - THUMP!
Possibly more concerned to show the principal his command of his army, than inculcating any spirit of discipline in the recruits.
I wonder how the new experience would look from the side that I was on today?
I knew that they know all the childhood skills we practiced. To talk in the assembly, doodle on the sand with our shoes during prayer, how to whisper to the preceding class mate without making a movement.
I was about to witness the situation as one of my teachers would have been. Will I experience the same frustration that I saw in them while in school? Will I end up turning into one of those, always frustrated, always complaining about the students, teachers?
The experience was going to be new for me. I was mentally practicing the dialogues I will have to say all the time from now on.
Be quiet!
Sit Straight!
Stand in a line!
Would I be screaming all those dialogs that we remember our teachers shrieking unto us to this day?
Some coarse loudspeaker announced. SILENCE!
It was the PT teacher. The morning assembly proceedings were about to begin.
How it felt to walk with feet tightly clad in BATA shoes size 11. Making small pentagonal patterns in the sandy assembly ground. Many thousand small pentagons, circles, squares, straight lines on the sandy assembly ground.
How the shock-waves from the drum, propped on the 'X' shaped stand near the entry gate, hitting your chest felt when you passed it. Marching. The proud looking school band students. Exuding an aura as if they were leading the royal band of her excellency.
The shirts and trousers ironed to perfection (by moms and dhobis) and then the shoes shined with damp air from the mouth hoping that some teacher will notice us having put in so much effort and select us as the best dressed of the day.
The students lined up perfectly like some tree farm has forgotten to grow above the trunks. The lazy ones rubbing their shoes on the trousers to hide their lethargy. More tree trunks joining in synchronized steps. Many long morning shadows escorting the trunks to their places so well known to synchronized steps.
Some used to wear non school white socks. Not allowed in school maybe because the school did not get the commission on the non standard ones that are not bought from the authorized (read commissioned) store. Boys used to be at better luck than girls who had no way to hide these socks in those just-below-the-knee skirts. A Byomkesh Bakshi fan teacher on duty will have them raise the trousers to catch the fish that tries to hide behind the stones. Exemplifying their detective skills by conquering an 11 year old's IQ.
Prefects! used to move around the uniform jungle and dragging, moving and putting students here and there to make their rows as perfect as possible. One arm distance to the front and the sides. Who manufactures the standard arms? To me they seemed like expert nurses in hospitals that knew what they are doing, overseeing anyone in the room and the patient the most.
A PT teacher, commander of the assembly would have all the feet thump within the same Milli-second.
Attention! - THUMP!
Stand-at-ease! - THUMP!
TOGETHER!
ATTENTION! - THUMP!
Possibly more concerned to show the principal his command of his army, than inculcating any spirit of discipline in the recruits.
I wonder how the new experience would look from the side that I was on today?
I knew that they know all the childhood skills we practiced. To talk in the assembly, doodle on the sand with our shoes during prayer, how to whisper to the preceding class mate without making a movement.
I was about to witness the situation as one of my teachers would have been. Will I experience the same frustration that I saw in them while in school? Will I end up turning into one of those, always frustrated, always complaining about the students, teachers?
The experience was going to be new for me. I was mentally practicing the dialogues I will have to say all the time from now on.
Be quiet!
Sit Straight!
Stand in a line!
Would I be screaming all those dialogs that we remember our teachers shrieking unto us to this day?
Some coarse loudspeaker announced. SILENCE!
It was the PT teacher. The morning assembly proceedings were about to begin.
