School - One word, Six letters

School

One word, six letters

Millions of memories, Thousands of mistakes Hundreds of Stories, Zero Regrets, Infinite love, Care and Happiness

So rightly encompasses my memories in one capsule.  Probably the first safe environment a child explores in life outside of their homes, where they learn routine, discipline,  self reliance and confidence in each and everything that they set to explore. Everything around us  keeps evolving and changing constantly - be it the city or the streets and shops and even my school.  Having bid farewell to my dearest hometown several years ago, I can hardly recognize the streets, the shops or even the beach when my friends send me pictures.  My memories may be a little outdated for the current generation as the picture I am about to sketch is from the toddler years of the presentation school.

My earliest memory is our kindergarten (LKG and UKG). I still remember the glass cottage which I presume was like the summer cottage of a person from whom the plot was acquired. I still remember my excitement in writing all the uppercase letters in one go as we cheered and clapped for each other. The sunlight passing through each and every glass around somehow gave me the feeling of being in one of those fairy tale setting. There were fewer buildings then and lot of space to run about and play.  The big trees around, the little chapel hidden amongst the green creepers and looking for caterpillars and butterflies in them. When I look back, life was just blissful. Did we realize it then? Probably not! I guess being born in the last leg of the previous century,  gave us privilege of that time to play with our friends, not getting entangled in the so called danger of "screen time" which I am myself struggling with as a parent. We had plenty of time to play, to chat, to fight, and then make up. I guess the only entertainment those days was Doordarshan and we loved  discussing "Malgudi days" and Sunday movies.

June always meant raincoats and umbrellas- getting wet in our shoes and socks, puddles of mud everywhere, classrooms with tube lights on and watching the storms through the window.  Getting sick, having cold and cough and hearing sneezes from every corner of the room, getting sick notes from parents for absences in our school Diary. The books would smell so fresh, the pages so neat and tidy, new pencils that are not broken, new erasers that haven't been used yet, pencil boxes, school bags, lunch boxes, textbooks, notebooks, cursive writing, composition books!! our school bags weighed more than us I guess.

Quarterly tests, report cards and then Onam and Christmas vacation. I still remember the last day of the exam. It would seem like never ending week, because I couldn't wait to go see my grandmother. Coming back from those vacations we had so much to tell each other that we would be like chatter boxes all day - until the teacher would roll her eyes and warn us "silence!'

The 'mother superiors' who came to visit us and the group photo that would happen for each class was our special day.

The heat of the summer would be an indication that portions have to be finished and preparations for the final exams. By then the notebooks would have lost their charm, with several corrections, tears, overwriting. Might have transitioned into the second or third one by then. The cuckoo bird's song early morning is a direct indication that March is nearing and we need to rush through revisions. Ironically even now, when I hear that back home now, I get a sense of alarm. And then after the last day of test, it's like a huge burden off our heads. Goodbye to all the notebooks and textbooks - I am taking a break now.

TV in our control was a luxury only during the summer holidays. Ice creams and 'Rasna', playing in the sun until dark and sleeping all the way through the morning.

By the middle of May, there would be distribution of textbooks for the next year, collecting them and neatly wrapping them in brown paper, name-slips neatly put right at the top corner.  Going to the city and buying school supplies in bulk- a new school year is going to start.
In this vicious cycle, it never dawned upon me that this wonderful phase will end one day and I would have to bid good-bye to my school - an institution that had nurtured and nourished me all these years. 

I can't help mentioning a few faces that will remain with me all my life.

Jayashree Chechi- whom we all went to for every single issue we had - be it with lunch boxes to being ill, to every single thing in the school office.

Sr Beatrice - our Hindi teacher who was the epitome of dedication, punctuality and discipline.  Even as I manage conversations here in the US with my North Indian friends, I always attribute that to the foundation that she gave each one of us.

Ms Sumithra and her wonderful English class. Nobody in our generation or my seniors or even juniors can forget "Daffodils!"- poem by William Wordsworth. My love for English literature started there. Every spring I see the yellow flowers, I wish I could do a time travel and be in that class once again.

Ms Teresa -  Not being a science enthusiast, I learnt it so well only because of her style of teaching.

There are many more names that are not mentioned, but then it would seem like the school directory - but I carry and relish all those memories, people who were very instrumental in shaping the person I am today.

Thank you Presentation.