A TFI quick look at L-2: Murphy’s law comes alive at school

It was my third last day (L-2), and I couldn’t have been more excited about it. I slept late after watching the world cup semis in all my over-confidence and woke up in grogginess and daze after 5 hours of sleep to learn that my TFI Fellow had urgent work to get to outside school and that she would be taking permission for half the day. I returned to sleep.

I woke up an hour later, almost exactly with the time necessary to get to school before the gates shut me out with a bunch of late-comers (mostly wailing kindergarten kids whose parents- relieved in seeing a teacher, promptly drop them off with us outside and leave us surrounded by bawling red-faced babies). Luckily today- a phrase you will not come across again in this article, I got to school on time.

1) Cold, a sore throat and walking in a rained over Chennai neighborhood is never a great idea. I got to school with my sandals drenched, but hey! I got there in time.

2) I’d hardly had the time or the mental composure to think of a solid work plan for the class, so I had to wing most of the day out.

3) My usually quiet class decides today to take full advantage of my growing softness (attributed to my emotions of leaving school that I’d mentioned in an earlier post) and the absence of their Fellow. Let’s take a moment to give them due credit for their smartness here.

4) My Fellow couldn’t make it to school at all today, a news I received in bits and pieces and had had no contingency plans made for.

5) Two kids I’d chided for misbehavior in class gave me a late reaction during lunch. One refused to eat his food, moped in class in front of me and ignored my stream of pleas, threats, shouts and jokes.

6) The other sat outside with her friends and cried her way through lunch.

7) Smart and starving me decided to blackmail the first kid in a way that in hindsight makes no sense. I declared to skip my lunch unless he ate his. He didn’t.

8) After ten minutes of apologizing to the crying kid about telling her off for her misbehaviour, I came to learn that she was in fact not crying about my actions at all. She had a headache, which she coughed up between her long weeps and moans that had misled me in the first place.

9) The first kid often tries to eavesdrop on conversations, which I had to chide him for doing right now. He returned to his state of sulking.

10) The class-teacher for 3rd grade (the class next to mine) was on leave and their substitute teacher had left her class of 40 happy kids alone to eat. Every five minutes, I checked in on that class to more often than not find a cluster of tiny creatures rolling on the floor in their fights.

11) Any attempts at screaming at the 3rd standard kids were severely hampered by the little large eyed, black-ribboned girl (that I mentioned in my previous article) staring at me with her eyes wide and curious. I didn’t want to become her devil…

12) My fasting kid finally decided to give up on his threats and left to eat- 5 minutes before lunch was to end. I opened my box in a sigh of relief.

13) I’d always tried to play the nice teacher while my Fellow handles all the cruelties demanded of this job. Shifting roles is incredibly difficult. A kid of mine who usually keeps his head down at work began making complaints at every 5 minute interval, and strangely denied any complaints against him. Even the ones made by me.

Student 1: Miss! This boy is kicking me miss.
Kid in question: No miss…I didn’t do anything. Ask X if you have doubts on me.
Student 2: Miss! This boy is singing.
Kid in question: No miss…I didn’t do anything. Ask X if you have doubts on me.
Me: Santhosh! Why is your leg on the table?!
Kid in question: No miss…I didn’t do anything. Ask X if you have doubts on me.
Me: But I just saw your legs on the table Santhosh…
Kid in question: No miss…I didn’t do anything. Ask X if you have doubts on me.

This looped around for the entire day.

The day ended with a highly fatigued me giving over 200 tired high 5s to half the school, dragging kids by their bags to get them to leave after dispersal, answering irate permanent staff questions on administration work I had no clue about and in a general cloud of confusion, noise and turbulent emotions ranging from a despair of leaving to the relief of finding the outside world bereft of high pitched screams of ‘Misssss’.

 

– Swathi Chandrasekaran
Once again, here’s a real tiny clue on how you can help!

Another TFI experience: A gesture of heart-melting tenderness- from an 8 year old

My TFI intern experience ends this Friday, and while there are dozens and dozens of precious instances I will cherish forever, there’s one particular event that made me recognize the potential of children to knock me off my feet through their compassion. That a moment of tenderness from an eight year old could make me want to buckle at my knees and cry. This is an event I couldn’t not write about, and I hope I do due justice in this piece so you can understand the gravity of this simple gesture.

I have a kid in my class whose younger sister studies in grade 3 (7-8 years old). On my first day of school when I met this sweetheart, she was a cute, dark skinned, wide-eyed beauty with black ribbons that matched the depth of the black in her innocent eyes. Her hair is double braided and tied up and she carries a schoolbag that always looks too heavy on her. She was, in most ways, indistinguishable from the other 30 odd kids in her class at first glance.

Over the course of the thirty days I spent at this school, I grew to learn more about her. I learnt to love her reservedness and kindness, and grew intensely distraught over her ailment that is so far untreated. In just about two weeks, this beautiful sweetheart of an angel developed a limp that’s been becoming further and further pronounced. Today, it might just be the first thing you notice about her. Before the depth of her black eyes, the immaculateness of the tied ribbons or how the weight of her bag looks like it might just topple her over any moment now.

That isn’t the crux of this narrative, though. That was just the background of this little eight year old I am going to talk about here.

Kids in school seem to have a lot of birthdays. Since the day I joined, there has hardly been a day that I haven’t received a chocolate from a student. As dictated by my own version of a diet, I promptly set the candy aside to be forgotten about, and later hand it over to whichever kid I see first after school.

It so happened that on three consecutive days, I had handed over my bounty to this little kutti of mine. These chocolates ranged from Eclairs to larger Perk and expensive looking truffles, and each time I held the chocolate in my arm out for her, she’d shake her head in a quiet no- rejecting my offer until I offered it again. While this always touched me, I never paid too much heed to it. This kid had always been shy.

On the fourth day, she seemed shyer than ever. She’d come to my class right at dispersal and was looking for me with a tiny smile on her lips and her innocent eyes peering up at me with a delight I hadn’t yet understood. I reached to pull out a tiny Caramel chocolate I had in my purse. When I looked at her, she was holding something out in her hand for me. Out on her tiny little open palm was a large Dairy Milk. I didn’t understand at first.

“Is it your birthday today kutti!”
She smiled a little more, never saying a word. She shook her head to imply her characteristic quiet no.
“She bought it for you, miss” came a voice from her sister. My kid nodded in acceptance, in her quiet, mesmerizing way.

It was a twenty rupees chocolate, from a kid who doesn’t get chocolates often at home. From a kid whose classmate searched in agony for her missing slipper for over an hour after school, knowing that without it she’d not have shoes for a month. From a kid who walks home everyday with a slight limp in her leg that hasn’t been checked by a doctor yet. She held out the chocolate with her eyes wide open, melting my heart in one moment of acute agony, gut wrenching ache and immense pride all at once. I had to ask her to treat herself with tears in my eyes, watch as she advanced to join her father at the portico of school and point me out to him with a beam on her face. She left me so easily with an incident I will hauntingly remember with an ache each time I look back at this month.

I buy chocolates for her now everyday. I probably shouldn’t, but I have just a week left with this angel and I can’t not see the beam on her little face everyday.

– Swathi Chandrasekaran

June, 2018

Where? CMS Arumbakkam Corporation School

A lot of these kids struggle with basic amenities that we take for granted, and anything you contribute towards their education will definitely go a tremendous way through the immense care taken by TFI and other similarly amazing NGOs. If you’re even a tiny bit interested, do check out their website to find out how you can help!