Learning Space

Whooshing winds lash around
This oasis where kids abound.
Chameleon hills turn green to brown
Miles away from any town.

Smiling, howling, pondering, scowling
Melodies play hide and seek
Naughty faces in corridors peek.
There's cheer that erodes any fear.

Feel the air that with laughter tinkles,
See the open faces with joy crinkle.
Sobs, gossip, squabbles galore
Little souls create their own folklore.

Who is the teacher?
Who is the student?
Drama, dance, games, music, art,
Of these we all are a part.

Bubbles of energy, questioning minds
Sensitive, easy answers how to find?
Minions of change will you be?
Your difference for all to see?

Me, English teacher!

Life has this strange way of giving you what you really want, if you're patient enough. Many times you don't even see it coming. Sometimes that longing has been buried under so many layers of “given up” that it doesn't hit you till you're deep into it. I took some time to realise that I am living out my childhood fantasies of teaching. No more was I teaching imaginary students in my room using the black rusted trunk as my blackboard with precious chalks bought out of pocket money. No more was I creating fantastic theories of Maths or Science. No more was I correcting reams of make believe answer sheets of real paper, signing good, very good, poor, satisfactory with a red flourish (several red pens have been sacrificed on the altar of pretend playing).

It's all real. Except for the technicalities. I don't comment good or poor, there are no marksheets and the subject is English. There is an endless supply of white and coloured chalk (dustless) and huge blackboards on which I can write for however long I want. (I know that little Tania's heart would have leapt with delight at such a prospect!) There are real, eager souls looking up at me with their sparkling eyes, asking incessant questions. Someday, twenty years hence, some child may remember his first class teacher at Sahyadri. And if we meet, may narrate some tiny incident that only the sponge like mind of a child can absorb and retain.

And who would have thought that being a teacher would in a strange way reopen my beloved world of words! To dig into and savour. And write. It had seemed to me that I had lost forever my ability to write. But slowly, the words are trickling out... hotch potch sometimes...but with a glimmer of hope that I will once again regain the fluency that I once had and enjoyed. I've been able to make up a little bit for years of not reading. (No, I do not consider Stoner and Freeman, Luthans, Kotler or Economic Times “reading” material. Only Ricardo Semler maybe.) The lost world of literature is being found. I have begun to look at poems too, in a new way.

I, the English teacher am learning so much...

Poem: Dilemma

What sort of person shall I be?
I am made of clay
To be molded in any way
So many things within
Make up the raw material that's me

What for do I aspire?
What do I desire?
Love for words, love for birds,
Love for trees and the seas
I'm so full of dreams!

Creative juices must flow
To flood conventions of long ago
Let the mind not build roadblocks
Time's hands run faster than clocks!

Apprehension, fear, I have to lose
At some point I have to choose
To live life as I know it
Or to die slowly, bit by bit

Poem: The bottomless pit

I would like people around me not to judge
me or the things around.
That's a dream i can't fudge
none of them will ever budge.

Things like this will always abound
so what should I do?
can only poison spew?
I don't know ... it's confusing
it needs a lot of musing.

It all boils down to this -
will you live life according to the world miss?
Sorrow is yours for the asking
in glory there will be no basking.
Matters you have to take in your own hand...
how much will you simply rant?

But I wonder,
do I have the power?
Really?
Is it all that will take
a better life to make?

What about my self doubts?
of which I have several bouts...
how can I change that?
that's the question of the hour
I don't think the solution is only power.

How much can I SWOT analyse?
I seem to have no choice...
in circles I go round and round
no solution can be found.

Books and books have I read
(should have fooled around instead)
Things seem more complicated
Oh! this journey seems ill fated!

What is wrong and what is right?
I don't know any more
try, try, try as I might.
Things seemed simple before
and now I can't see the light.

My whole value system lies shaken,
my very foundation seems broken.
How do I rebuild it from scratch?
Where will I find what will match?

But...but...but and but...
that doesn't make the cut.
The who, where, what of it all
is enough to make one want to bawl.

So again we come to where we started.
The answer is not from me parted.
How do I find it... how do I find it...
This is such a bottomless pit!

-Written without a pause at a time when I was terribly lost. Being usually stuck at rhymes, I surprised myself that it flowed at a time like this.