AFTERMATH

BY GOOLBAI GUNASEKARA 

The lives of  teachers are regulated ones.  They are regulated by Govt. rules,  by school rules, by retirement rules, by dress code rules, by behavorial rules, and of course by morality rules. Judging by reports in the daily press  many of the above are regularly broken – specially by teachers and Principals out of Colombo where supervision of their activities is poor, if not nil.

Fortunately our new PM is giving priority to new systems of education where, it is earnestly  hoped examinations like that egregious Grade 5 exam will be eliminated.

Eventually teachers reach retirement age. This is inflexible if one is in Govt. Service. In Private Schools teachers can carry on for as long as the  Governing Body desires – notably in the International Schools where the services of a good teacher are not lost because of age restrictions.

One problem is common to all teachers be they in the private or non- private sector. It is a personal problem that gets worse as one gets older. It is the problem of recognition. How can ANY teacher recollect faces and names of the hundreds of children they have taught over the 30 to 40 years of their teaching lives once the little tormentors have left school?

Former students come back home  displaying  confidence and success in the lives they are leading and  all teachers claim part of that success for themselves. Even after a lapse of years they have that sense of  responsibility for these student careers in a manner which has been as close and encouraging  as that of a parent.

Fortunately I have been blessed with an excellent memory, trained by my educationist parents from ages 3 onwards with memory games, spelling quizzes etc. It has helped me recall parents’ names, pinpoint identities of regular trouble makers, sift through a great deal of pupil irregularities which have not been documented but remain in my memory.  A good memory is an asset beyond compare although recalcitrant students (along with one’s own family) regard it as more of a curse than a blessing.

At many schools these days Prefects are not arbitrarily chosen by the Principal and Staff. Students are required to actually APPLY for the honour stating the pluses and minuses of their career at school. The child is then interviewed and it can go something like this.

“Well Ruvi. I see you aim at Prefectship?”

“Oh yes Miss.”

“Have you forgotten the little problem we had  just 2 years ago when you emptied a bucket of water from the second floor on a group of kids below you?”

He laughs dismissively.

“That was just a joke Miss. I apologized and you punished me then. I was severely traumatized.” (Where did he pick up THAT word.)

“Nonsense Ruvi. I hope you remember you ruined a hugely expensive Smart phone belonging to Shaan which your parents had to pay for.”

Ruvi’s face radiated virtue.

“But Miss you told us NEVER to carry expensive things to school. I NEVER break those rules. You scolded Shaan also.”

Of course I remember everything Ruvi tells me. It might be noticed that we do encourage students to talk and there is no doubt Ruvi is excellent academic material and has a solid  background in tennis. He is an ideal candidate for Prefectship and had counted on my forgetting the little contremps of a few years earlier. He made Prefectship despite my good memory!

But alas, students grow up. They change beyond belief. From wearing school uniforms and  certainly   no make-up, girls/boys suddenly appear at some social function looking like Bollywood stars. They greet me enthusiastically while my mind scurries around trying to place them. I remember their parents so much better. THEY don’t change but the student caterpillars have become colourful butterflies and they place great stress on the memory.

Are these stunningly clad and highly successful beings the rowdy little hooligans who yesterday were careening down school corridors in full cry? Recognition is a blank.  

“Tell me your name first and then I will know you,” I say apologetically. “You have changed unbelievably you know”. This on going situation was particularly highlighted at a recent wedding of one of my  Asian International School’s former Head Boys. He was now a Doctor and was marrying his American University girlfriend. His friends from all over the world congregated in Colombo while his former teachers and I sat at the wedding in a haze of bewilderment. Sarees are no longer in vogue. Every youngster sported designer dresses and suits.

Having accurately pinpointed one UK residing former pupil I told her mother that I loved the half- skirted dress her daughter wore. She looked unhappy.

“That dress looks like Dina ran out of material”, she complained.  

Other parents at the function wore the same air of confusion that we  did. Our children were no longer in our charge. They had control of their own destinies and whether we could recognize them at first glance or not they were now citizens of the world.

Former students come back home  displaying  confidence and success in the lives they are leading and  all teachers claim part of that success for themselves. Even after a lapse of years they have that sense of  responsibility for these student careers in a manner which has been as close and encouraging  as that of a parent.

Affection may or not  have played  a part in  the formation of a student’s personality but a sense of duty is always present until the child leaves our hands. This sense of achievement is the AFTERMATH of a successful teacher’s career. It is a feeling that defies analysis and one that has no equal. It is exclusively a dedicated teacher’s prerogative.

People seldom notice who teachers are but we realise that civilisation depends on what they do and what they say. Credit may not be acknowledged but  a teacher’s satisfaction is unlimited.