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Rao miss is now Headmistress at
Our Own Indian School Dubai |
The idea of writing this blog struck me on a train journey
this morning. This idea was a
retrospective result of a linked in message conversation between me and my most
fond memory in school, who in turn had no memory of me.
But that was alright. I wasn't heartbroken. She knew me for only
a quarter after which she decided to quit school and go elsewhere.
Last year NCL school, the school I studied in for twelve years, Jr. and Sr. KG included, hosted a big reunion where students from
multiple batches gathered and shared school experiences. The reunion must have been grand; I have no doubts
but a huge part of me was absolutely detached from all the excitement. I simply
didn't care enough.
The only teacher I would have been excited to meet at the
reunion was my biology teacher in Std. VIII, Mrs. Amol Rao, and though I didn't
verify, I knew she wouldn't be there. Last week, a class mate started a
whatsapp group that a majority of us joined and a discussion of Rao miss, as we called her, sprung
up. I brought it up with a who-said-to-whom quote, "Sorry
doesn't make a dead man alive."
I and another classmate, googled her simultaneously, and
encountered her linked in profile. That's when I wrote to her and she responded
back as follows, "Hi Jeevan! You are right ... Don't
remember you but love to hear from my students! Stay in
touch!.................................... Tell me more about you!"
The
dots above is missing text where she gave me her number and asked me to get in
touch if I was ever in Dubai.
It did not matter that she didn't remember
me. Of the teacher and person I got to know in three months, I can only
imagine the influence she would have on students who have known her for years.
So, this morning, I wanted to respond back
to her through this blog.
My love for biology, a love that spanned across
five years until Std. XII, started in
the Std. VIII because of Rao miss. She taught with such devotion that it was
only imperative that a student sit back and pay attention. She drew a huge lesser than symbol at one end of the
blackboard with a greater than sign on the other side and united those two into
a stunning frog. She eased out diagrams for us in that style. She was adamant that all the labels of
a diagram had to be on the right hand side. She was an
excellent orator with a commanding voice that deserved undeterred attention.
As is the nature of students, we were
making noise in one of the classes that was marked by absence of a teacher,
when she barged into the classroom and shut every one up. She blasted us for
the poor performance we had showcased in our unit exams and as the blasting had reached its peak, she accidentally gazed upon me. I
was seated on the first bench. "Except for Jeevan and a few others,"
she continued. Then she told the entire class that my paper was beautifully
presented.
I have a beautiful handwriting and I say it
without both, pride and modesty. It's a genetic gift from my father. I
performed really well, topped the class in bio by scoring 17/20. She didn't teach us even for half a semester
but she spoilt me with choices. She set the benchmark for all bio teachers in
the future and unfortunately, nobody ever measured up to her. Nobody was just
as commanding, vivacious and brilliant.
That was her story in my life. "Sorry
doesn't make a dead man alive," was probably her favorite quote to all students.
Therefore, I never apologize without heart or under circumstances of a
situation that I cannot help.
In my school, only the favorites got an
opportunity to act in a play or dance to a song during annual gatherings. Favorites
such as top rankers, kids related to other teachers, or really smart kids. I
was neither. (Today, I am quite the catch, so no regrets ;-)). However, with
inspiration gathered from that appreciation, I told Rao Miss that I wanted to
act in the English play at the end of the year. Very often, she directed the
English plays. But as she was leaving school, she caught hold of my hand and took me
to Rupa miss and told her of my interest. One thing led to another and I
enacted a part in the annual play. Rao miss apparently transformed me into 'a-child-with-mission'.
As far as the twelve years of school go, I made a couple of decent friends. I have very often heard that childhood friends last
forever but this certainly isn't true for me. Some of my closest friends
are from junior college and later when I marched into the outside world.
I ditched the reunion by not really making
an effort to go. Of course there were
other teachers such as Mala miss, Ramchandran miss, Natrajan miss, Rupa miss
and Rangarajan miss who I liked, but Rao miss was my most fond memory of
NCL school. There is something absolutely Godly (read impartial and unbiased)
about her.
You know, those romances of a great love
affair that stay eternally alive as part of your soul; in the love affair of my life, Rao miss was
my high school romance.
