Rao miss

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.