A little part of my new life.

There were 62 of them. It was my first instructional day. I could see them grinning. Oh! How I now know that toothless smile, those eyes.Those expressive tiny eyes said it all, “Didi, the novelty of you entering our class has gone (I had visited them once before). We’ve made our 1st impressions but now let’s give you a reality check.”  Before I could comprehend the full extent of this threat, there were 25 hands tugging me. “Didi may I be excused, Didi she is hitting me, Didi are you going to come every day?”….The list was endless. At that moment, I would have given an arm and a leg to have clones of me all over to settle them down. But clearly God or science wasn’t listening!

The day ended with my voice hoarse, my clothes a mess, my hair fussy and my sense of possibility at its lowest. I come home all upset and very very angry. In retrospect, training institute at Teach for India seemed a cake walk. I stomp my door and declare to everyone I meet “I hate kids. Hate them all. I could be the kid eating monster and care less.” My mom obviously horror struck intervened “Nirali, how can you say such things! Children are God’s gift to mankind.” “Yea, right! They are evil, annoying little pricks” I professed in rebuke.

I became a monomaniac. I was obsessed that only an effective behavior management strategy would work. My amazing co teacher and I sat that very night to have one in place. After much brainstorming we decided to introduce a few strategies. We made an individual behavior tracker with their pictures, a complain box to record any grave injustice bestowed on them, a marble jar which was a group behavior tracker and monitor badges.  

Amidst paper planes, water rockets and the hooting of the train every few seconds, I enter the battlefield, the next day. My game face is on. I have my weapons. Complain box- check, individual tracker check, marble jar-check , monitor badges - check. My 2^nd day can be described in 3 words: good, bad and ugly. What started as novelty, fun and absolute compliance ended with more paper planes, water rockets, some new artilleries like pencil guns, water balloons and very a strong defiance.

I didn’t know how to feel. It was better than the first day. Definitely. But in my head it could have been so much more. Maybe, I just didn’t want to think about it. I lay in my room in still silence. Their voices still echoed in my head. Fatigued and drained of all energy, I crashed.  When I got up I decided to clear my thoughts, room and bag. I started by opening the complain box

 It wasn’t just the well decorated envelopes that took me by surprise but the messages in each of these letters. Apart from 12 letters from the same girl complaining about everything and recording every emotion of her day, there were some exceptionally insightful and beautiful messages - precise, concise and heartfelt. Some telling me how they loved what I did in class today while some giving me advice on what I can work on. Some telling me they love me in spite of me shouting at them while some just saying I love you. They not only redefined the role of the complaint box in my class, but made me re- evaluate my disposition not just in my classroom and also in my life.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe I would get through. More than anything the complaint box, my treasure chest, helped me find my faith.

P.S: The faith lasted only the first 2 hours the next morning.

I  used to be a 3rd standard teacher, in a low income private school called Guru Nanak in the Sion/Dharavi area of Mumbai, as a Teach for India fellow.