A TEACHER FOR ALL SEASONS

By Vincent Van Ross

I ran into my school teacher, Lalita, several years after I finished schooling. She gave me a curious look when I greeted her. I sensed that she was probably asking me: Do I know you? I can’t place you. She didn’t utter a word. But, still there was communication. Sometimes silent communication can be more effective than verbal communication.

By Vincent Van Ross

I answered her unasked question by saying: “Ma’am, My name is Vincent. I was your student in class V. You used to teach me social studies.” A semblance of recognition crossed her face.

“I am sorry Vincent, I can’t recall…it has been some time now,” replied the teacher. “You know how it is…you have to remember only one teacher. We have to remember so many students.”

“I understand Ma’am,” I comforted her. Besides, there was no reason why she should have remembered me. I wasn’t the brightest of students

When I requested her to take tuitions, she had told me: “I don’t believe in taking tuitions, Vincent. If you have any problems, please contact me after school hours and I will clear any doubts that you have. I feel that a teacher has not taught if the student has not learnt.”

I cannot forget those words considering the fact that the teachers of today are looking for the slightest opportunity to mint money through tuitions. Clearly, she was not after money. She was more concerned to see that her students are better equipped with knowledge when they leave the school.

She asked me a lot of questions. And, I answered them with all the respect that they deserved because they were coming from my teacher whom I revered so much. Then very reluctantly she asked me: “can I ask you something…you may not like it…?

“By all means Ma’am. I would be happy to answer any question that you may ask.”

I learnt that she was curious about where I was working and what I was picking up by way of salary.

I was working for an international news agency and I was drawing a decent salary. I shared this information with her.

My teacher was surprised at my pay packet and she made no secret of it. Then, it was my turn to ask her the same question. At first she tried to ward off the question. Then she answered me. I was really shocked to learn that she was working on such a small salary.

Anton Checkov’s observation in one of his short stories came to my mind. He said something to the effect that a country where teachers are not treated with the respect they deserve, stands little chance of development. I was concerned. I expressed my sympathy.

But, my teacher brushed aside my concern. She said: “Money is not everything, Vincent. There are other things in life. I may not earn as much as you do. Just think about it…so many years after you moved out of the school, you meet me here. And, you could not pass me without greeting me. That is what I have earned in life. And, I am happy with it.”

“Tomorrow, you may become a great journalist. You may even become a leader of our country. But, whenever we cross each other, you cannot pass me without greeting me. That is what I have earned as a teacher.”

(A tribute to all the dedicated teachers of the world on the Teacher's Day--September 5)