My Favorite teacher
Confronted with the recent cases about school principals and teachers being involved in rape and murder of children, it has made me think about my own teachers. I firmly believe that criminals are not their profession. These people could have been anyone. The fact that headlines flashed the word ‘teacher’ grabbed everyone’s attention. I’m not saying that the media should have hidden their identity. I’m just saying that not all teachers are rapists and murderers. And today I’m especially feeling nostalgic for my favorite teacher.
He was an old man. A very happy and kind old man. He’d smile at and greet any student he met on the way. There was something about our bond that no one understood, and few other students envied. My parents thought we had some kind of karmic connections.
I think like parents teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites but everyone could see that I was his favorite, and he mine. He praised me a lot, the hyperactive, chatty, bossy, occasionally annoying know-it-all that I apparently was. I remember that once on World Children’s Day, he wrote a card for the class, and wrote a separate card for me, and gifted me a geometry box. Some of my classmates weren’t very happy haha. We were all kids.
He taught us Math. My least favorite subject. But his classes were always so much fun. He wasn’t one of those conventional teachers who needed absolute silence and obedience. We could talk, discuss, move seats (!!), prove him wrong, make him write “Good” on our notebook. And he told stories!
Stories. As kids that was all the excuse we needed to not study. “Sir, tell us a story!” we’d say because we knew he wouldn’t refuse. He’d happily tell us one. He’d go around the class, throw his arms in the air, jump, spin, jog, laugh, cry, gasp. I don’t remember the stories but I remember him telling them. I guess it’s true; you don’t remember what someone said but how they made you feel. He made us so happy. He was a great storyteller. I wanted to be just like him.
I’ve always been a bit too dramatic (I think I’ll be one of those moms who emotionally blackmail their kids haha) but maybe I got some of my overly animated personality from him. He was always happy, smiling and excited about everything. That’s how people describe me most of the time.
He was big at optimism. He’d correct our untidy Math notebooks and say, “You kids will go to NASA one day.” We had no idea what a NASA was.
The last time I heard about him was when a former classmate told me that he had resigned. We lost contact a long time ago, and that’s really sad. I’d really want to meet him again. He’ll always be my favorite teacher, whom my parents said was my second father.