My exams ended yesterday, and right after that, the school’s director’s daughter sort of conducted this two-hour thing on stress-management. I didn’t actually gain anything from that talk because I know how to deal with stress pretty well already, but nonetheless, it was an enlightening and, not to mention, a disillusioning experience—I’ve realized that she’s the only redeeming member of her house. Okay fine—maybe her dad’s a nice person, too; but that’s not my point. I don’t even have a point here. Just wanted to note that it was something worth staying for.
I actually returned from my farewell party at school half an hour ago. So the ninth graders put in their best (albeit half-hearted) efforts at entertaining us and making us, uh, feel bad about leaving that school after, er, so long. Well, they succeeded. And I’m not speaking for myself, but for the other tenth graders, most of whom were drenching themselves in tears. I don’t do such things. Fine, maybe I felt a little more than a bit sad—since I studied in the same school for almost a decade, and the same old teachers were there, too—but I, as usual, was successful in hiding it. Too much unwanted attention crying brings you, I think. Okay anyway, I’m not denying that I won’t miss my teachers (I will: a lot) and my classmates (even though ‘classmate’ is as far as the average person would go, I did have a couple of really special friends among them, whom I will most certainly miss). I was particularly touched when I was passing by the Principal during dinner and she stopped me and popped a pani-puri into my mouth. She was always a grandmotherly figure to me, but today it was really quite touching. And then seeing her, my history teacher also did the same to me, and it was so funny that I actually said, “So who else wants to give me something?” I presented gifts of gratitude to a select few teachers who were really, really special to me during my life at school, and whom I would miss to the degree of being depressed. In the end one of my, erm, classmates played this song (‘Ma’ from Tare Zameen Par; Ma obviously meaning ‘mother’) on his cell phone and through the amplifiers, and well, the song was supposed to be this really touching thing. Well, it was remotely for me, too. And yeah, that sort of triggered the waterworks for most of the girls and a few of the boys. The teacher in charge of my class (i.e., my class teacher) gave everyone a hug in turn, and well, I was, I admit, touched, because not many people have done that to me in the recallable past. I was watching her hug everybody and the girls crying their eyes out and all, and I realized that my school was special in the sense that the teachers were like a part of you: there was no communication gap. Every one of them was like a parent to me, which made that ‘Ma’ song almost overwhelmingly pertinent. And the look in every teacher’s eyes when they wished me good luck when I was bidding them goodbye is something I can never forget. And for a person of my level of emotional inertness, that’s saying something.
The countdown for the Boards begins. I have—haven’t done the math yet—until the first of March to perfect myself in every subject, and the whole of March to spend in proving that perfection. And gosh, would that February had at least 30 days. Okay, so I guess I am getting a bit stressed out, so I think I’ll go back and practice those stress-dealing things I talked about at the beginning of this post.
I actually returned from my farewell party at school half an hour ago. So the ninth graders put in their best (albeit half-hearted) efforts at entertaining us and making us, uh, feel bad about leaving that school after, er, so long. Well, they succeeded. And I’m not speaking for myself, but for the other tenth graders, most of whom were drenching themselves in tears. I don’t do such things. Fine, maybe I felt a little more than a bit sad—since I studied in the same school for almost a decade, and the same old teachers were there, too—but I, as usual, was successful in hiding it. Too much unwanted attention crying brings you, I think. Okay anyway, I’m not denying that I won’t miss my teachers (I will: a lot) and my classmates (even though ‘classmate’ is as far as the average person would go, I did have a couple of really special friends among them, whom I will most certainly miss). I was particularly touched when I was passing by the Principal during dinner and she stopped me and popped a pani-puri into my mouth. She was always a grandmotherly figure to me, but today it was really quite touching. And then seeing her, my history teacher also did the same to me, and it was so funny that I actually said, “So who else wants to give me something?” I presented gifts of gratitude to a select few teachers who were really, really special to me during my life at school, and whom I would miss to the degree of being depressed. In the end one of my, erm, classmates played this song (‘Ma’ from Tare Zameen Par; Ma obviously meaning ‘mother’) on his cell phone and through the amplifiers, and well, the song was supposed to be this really touching thing. Well, it was remotely for me, too. And yeah, that sort of triggered the waterworks for most of the girls and a few of the boys. The teacher in charge of my class (i.e., my class teacher) gave everyone a hug in turn, and well, I was, I admit, touched, because not many people have done that to me in the recallable past. I was watching her hug everybody and the girls crying their eyes out and all, and I realized that my school was special in the sense that the teachers were like a part of you: there was no communication gap. Every one of them was like a parent to me, which made that ‘Ma’ song almost overwhelmingly pertinent. And the look in every teacher’s eyes when they wished me good luck when I was bidding them goodbye is something I can never forget. And for a person of my level of emotional inertness, that’s saying something.
The countdown for the Boards begins. I have—haven’t done the math yet—until the first of March to perfect myself in every subject, and the whole of March to spend in proving that perfection. And gosh, would that February had at least 30 days. Okay, so I guess I am getting a bit stressed out, so I think I’ll go back and practice those stress-dealing things I talked about at the beginning of this post.
0 comments :
Post a Comment