PlainGeets

As an Indian who grew up in the 80s, the notion of looking up to my elders and my teachers is well engrained. Even though I now don’t always agree, or go along with everything they say, and have also been known to roll my eyes at their eccentricities from time to time, I can’t deny the impact they’ve had on my life. 

A few days ago I had dinner with two of my teachers – one who taught me during the Diplôme de Langue Française (the equivalent of today’s DELF B2), and the other, the first teacher I observed during my teacher training programme at the Alliance française de Pune, and whose séquences pédagogiques I followed till I developed my own teaching style. It was lovely evening, chatting about life and a lot of very random things, and basking in the (rather undeserved) affection of my teachers. I returned home feeling mellow from the cocktails, but more importantly feeling grateful to have had some stellar people as my guides and mentors over the years. 

We can all look back and remember that one teacher we liked, or inspired us. The teacher who made a subject interesting, or the one whose advice was helpful. The one who gave you the golden star, or the one who always had a kind word and a smile for you. As a diligent student whose aim was to keep her head down and do nothing to ruffle anyone’s feathers, I’ve had more than my fair share of teachers who thought well of me, and had nothing but praises for me. And while I remember them all, the ones who’ve had the strongest impact on me, directly and indirectly, were the ones who held me to scrutiny, didn’t hesitate to pull me up when I was stumbling and helped me correct my course. The ones whose respect I had to earn through more than simply being good at my academic work. The ones who opened doors for me, of course, but more than that, the ones who opened my eyes to alternate ways of thinking (and living).

In school, it was my 7th grade class teacher who called me aside and stopped me from being dishonest to my true self in the quest for popularity. A conversation that left me deeply ashamed when it happened, but one that has stuck with me all these years, and shaped the person I have become. 

In college, it was the teacher whose idea of driving us to excellence involved pushing us off the deep end of the pool, and telling us to figure out a way to the other end. Literary references come flying out of her mouth, and if you didn’t want to be feel like you were drowning, you really had no choice than to spend hours in the library, reading every book that was on the recommended reading list (and more). It was baptism by fire, and even though I didn’t go to one of the better colleges for English Literature in Bombay, I never felt that my education was lacking…because of Mrs. S. I owe my ability to cross-reference, and read beneath the lines to her. 

At University, Dr. B’s lectures were delightfully informative, and I shall be eternally grateful to her for picking me out of the hundred-odd students for the exchange programme to Otto Von Guericke University, Magdeburg, which not only changed the way I viewed the world, but also played a key role in my future career as a French teacher. But when I think of Dr. B I think of the way she has led her personal life, and the decisions she took despite the potential of societal disapproval. An example that gave me the strength to stick to my guns, when I was faced with a dilemma in my personal life. 

The Alliance française brought  into my life, not one or two, but a whole bunch of independent thinkers. Strong-willed individuals who were passionate about their work, but also about their beliefs. Rebels in big and small ways. Creative. Gregarious. I owe them much more than guidance on how to plan classes that would keep my students engaged and help them master French. They took the timid Geetanjali under their wings, and gave her a safe space to express herself, shaping the person I became as an adult. 

In fact the deep abiding gratitude I feel for my teachers has little to do with the Indian ethos, but more to do with the actual impact they’ve had on my life. As teacher myself, I can only hope to have at least a small percentage of this kind of impact on my students.

That night, as I went to bed, I sent a silent thank you to all the wonderful people who have unknowingly played such a strong role in my life, and in whose footsteps I have walked briefly.