My Experiences As A Lecturer (1)
Chapter 1
A SKINNY STUDENT'S F.I.R.
It was March, 2010 and I was hardly 23 years old. I had recently left university and was pursuing the course of B.ed through correspondence. I got a job as a lecturer at a well-known private higher secondary that was situated only a few kmrs away from my home. I was a popular public speaker in my area , delivering lecturers on religious topics in English language . I was warmly welcomed to the mosques of my neighborhood. However, I had no experience at all as a teacher . I had never been on a teaching adventure to any school before. I joined the said institute in the second week of March. To my shock, I was asked to teach female students. Female gender was always a different species for me. My parents, molvis, and other respectable members had been always warning me of the dangers of women. I was as scared of women as I was of snakes, electricity and wasps. I had no female friend at school , college and university. In fact, I could not remember more than two to three times interacting with women , apart from my mom, cousins and sisters. The interaction was also limited to two to three sentences such as MY NAME IS...,... . I LIVE AT A VILLAGE. NOne of my female classmates at school , college or university could claim that I ever talked to them except a girl at college, whom I told my name once and another girl at university , whose greeting I responded once because it was my last week at the university. (All of my classmates are still alive . critics can get my statements confirmed). Such was my past . on the other hand, I was sent to a girl's class on the very first day of my teaching career. My heart had almost come into my mouth. The beads of sweat had already appeared on my forehead. Plus, the heartbeat was beyond eighty per minute. All this happened as soon as the principal asked a peon to lead the new teacher to the class of girls of 11th standard. My mouth became dry. I could have said "No" but I needed that job desperately. I wanted to set my dad free from the economic responsibility that he had been unwillingly feeling towards me. It was my first day to face a group of almost fifty teenage-cum-sharp-witted girls together. I was obsessed with traditional teachings of my religion , therefore, I was morally supposed to avoid the eye contact also. They had been learning from another well qualified plus handsome lecturer who became my colleague subsequently before I was exposed to that bunch of bees. As soon as I stepped inside the class ,I received a loud greeting to which I replied with my dried mouth. They kept staring me as I could feel that they had never seen a teacher like me who was wearing an Islamic cap , clothed in jeans and T-shirt and was sporting a beard. In those days like the present times, the Islamic cap was appreciated but not respected at all. At the very first sight, they fell in hate with me as I was the creature who had snatched perhaps their loving teacher from them. It is said that habits take time to rise and set. They knew that their old teacher was handsome, friendly and all that . On the contrary, I looked like the one who would impose rigid rules of Islam on them. Out of spite, they asked me to teach them a poem that they had already learnt from their loving teacher. As expected, they bombarded me with questions during my lecture and frequently disrupted me. Obviously, I had not taught them the way they were used to. I had made a few points that they didn't agree with because their teacher had not told such points to them. While arguing and counter arguing , I had forgot that they were females. I was trying my best to save my job by explaining again and again my so called alien points about the lesson. There I found a girl who I thought was least intelligent among all and she was leading the protest of unleashed questioners. Her questions made least sense. I asked her to stand up and then I asked her a few easy questions about the topic lately taught by me. As expected, she turned out to be an empty vessel. Her fellow questioners laughed loudly at her. As kamala Das puts it , THE CHILDREN ARE FUNNY THINGS, THEY LAUGH IN MIRTH AT other's TEARS. she was hurt by her friends. Her face fell . Her red eyes and red skin of face signalled the arrival of tsunami for me. However, before I left the class, I could see the favourable expressions on the majority of those little cute faces.
No sooner did I return to the staff room than I saw that upset girl rushing towards the office of the principal to lodge an F.I.R. against poor me. I expected that reaction from that skinny, detestable, least witty girl. How much I hated that girl at that time and subsequently. I was not present there when she was informing the principal about the faults she had listed from my first ever lecture to girls. But, a colleague described clearly that scene to me. Her main grievance was that the new teacher taught her wrong. To which the respected principal had answered that if a new teacher taught her something new, that must be called NEW not wrong. The principal had observed a lecture that I had delivered to a class of boys on the same day before I had been despatched to teach the skinny girl' s class.
I taught for many years in the same institute. The principal had never any complaint about my teaching ability but he always had issues regarding my behaviour , which I agreed thoroughly with him. He deserved the chair he was holding at that institute. As per the skinny girl, she remained in the list of my hated persons . What could I do, I had never my feelings in control like any other human being but never harmed her in any way.
A SKINNY STUDENT'S F.I.R.
It was March, 2010 and I was hardly 23 years old. I had recently left university and was pursuing the course of B.ed through correspondence. I got a job as a lecturer at a well-known private higher secondary that was situated only a few kmrs away from my home. I was a popular public speaker in my area , delivering lecturers on religious topics in English language . I was warmly welcomed to the mosques of my neighborhood. However, I had no experience at all as a teacher . I had never been on a teaching adventure to any school before. I joined the said institute in the second week of March. To my shock, I was asked to teach female students. Female gender was always a different species for me. My parents, molvis, and other respectable members had been always warning me of the dangers of women. I was as scared of women as I was of snakes, electricity and wasps. I had no female friend at school , college and university. In fact, I could not remember more than two to three times interacting with women , apart from my mom, cousins and sisters. The interaction was also limited to two to three sentences such as MY NAME IS...,... . I LIVE AT A VILLAGE. NOne of my female classmates at school , college or university could claim that I ever talked to them except a girl at college, whom I told my name once and another girl at university , whose greeting I responded once because it was my last week at the university. (All of my classmates are still alive . critics can get my statements confirmed). Such was my past . on the other hand, I was sent to a girl's class on the very first day of my teaching career. My heart had almost come into my mouth. The beads of sweat had already appeared on my forehead. Plus, the heartbeat was beyond eighty per minute. All this happened as soon as the principal asked a peon to lead the new teacher to the class of girls of 11th standard. My mouth became dry. I could have said "No" but I needed that job desperately. I wanted to set my dad free from the economic responsibility that he had been unwillingly feeling towards me. It was my first day to face a group of almost fifty teenage-cum-sharp-witted girls together. I was obsessed with traditional teachings of my religion , therefore, I was morally supposed to avoid the eye contact also. They had been learning from another well qualified plus handsome lecturer who became my colleague subsequently before I was exposed to that bunch of bees. As soon as I stepped inside the class ,I received a loud greeting to which I replied with my dried mouth. They kept staring me as I could feel that they had never seen a teacher like me who was wearing an Islamic cap , clothed in jeans and T-shirt and was sporting a beard. In those days like the present times, the Islamic cap was appreciated but not respected at all. At the very first sight, they fell in hate with me as I was the creature who had snatched perhaps their loving teacher from them. It is said that habits take time to rise and set. They knew that their old teacher was handsome, friendly and all that . On the contrary, I looked like the one who would impose rigid rules of Islam on them. Out of spite, they asked me to teach them a poem that they had already learnt from their loving teacher. As expected, they bombarded me with questions during my lecture and frequently disrupted me. Obviously, I had not taught them the way they were used to. I had made a few points that they didn't agree with because their teacher had not told such points to them. While arguing and counter arguing , I had forgot that they were females. I was trying my best to save my job by explaining again and again my so called alien points about the lesson. There I found a girl who I thought was least intelligent among all and she was leading the protest of unleashed questioners. Her questions made least sense. I asked her to stand up and then I asked her a few easy questions about the topic lately taught by me. As expected, she turned out to be an empty vessel. Her fellow questioners laughed loudly at her. As kamala Das puts it , THE CHILDREN ARE FUNNY THINGS, THEY LAUGH IN MIRTH AT other's TEARS. she was hurt by her friends. Her face fell . Her red eyes and red skin of face signalled the arrival of tsunami for me. However, before I left the class, I could see the favourable expressions on the majority of those little cute faces.
No sooner did I return to the staff room than I saw that upset girl rushing towards the office of the principal to lodge an F.I.R. against poor me. I expected that reaction from that skinny, detestable, least witty girl. How much I hated that girl at that time and subsequently. I was not present there when she was informing the principal about the faults she had listed from my first ever lecture to girls. But, a colleague described clearly that scene to me. Her main grievance was that the new teacher taught her wrong. To which the respected principal had answered that if a new teacher taught her something new, that must be called NEW not wrong. The principal had observed a lecture that I had delivered to a class of boys on the same day before I had been despatched to teach the skinny girl' s class.
I taught for many years in the same institute. The principal had never any complaint about my teaching ability but he always had issues regarding my behaviour , which I agreed thoroughly with him. He deserved the chair he was holding at that institute. As per the skinny girl, she remained in the list of my hated persons . What could I do, I had never my feelings in control like any other human being but never harmed her in any way.
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