My school Days

Memories are like picture post cards which become yellow with time but still retain a familiar fragrance ..... that of warmth, love and nostalgia, which stays forever.....

When my memories fly back to the by gone era of the past, I see myself as a tiny toddler with a glowing smile and running towards my classroom. The hallowed portals, the sonorous assembly bell, the joyous chatter at school break, the chorus anthem, the exam phobia, the anticipation of results, the great moments with my teachers and finally the silent tears during my farewell are still freshly painted in the canvas of my psyche. My school days are replete with the naughty memories of the various pranks that I tried with my friends and miserably failed only to find myself standing on a bench and holding my ears in the classroom little did I realise that one day destiny will make me a teacher executing the same on my students.

Standing today and looking back through the mist of time, I see myself being groomed by the sincere efforts of my dear teacher, for a bigger school called 'life'. I wish that one day my students will realise the same.

Somebody once said 'life always comes to a full circle'. Well, it certainly does for a teacher.
Looking over my own school days, there are so many things that I would rather not tell, that it will take very little time and space for me to use in telling what I am willing that the carping public should know about my early history.

I began my educational career at goverment high school in small town. Finding that other great men had done that way, I began early to look around me for a log school house where I could begin in a small way to soak my system full of hard words and information.

For a time I learned very rapidly. Learning came to me with very little effort at first. I would read my lesson over once or twice and then take my place in the class. It never bothered me to recite my lesson and so I stood at the head of the class. I could stick my big toe through a knot-hole in the floor and work out the most difficult problem. This became at last a habit with me. With my knot-hole I was safe, without it I would hesitate.

There are other little incidents of my schooldays that come trooping up in my memory at this moment, but they were not startling in their nature. Mine is but the history of one who struggled on year after year, trying to do better, but most always failing to connect.

cont.......