Teachers are human beings too. And being human, they share in the fears that human beings live with. But what specific kinds of fears might colour the lives of teachers? The following ‘imagined’ first person vignettes attempt to portray an interior view of situations that could give rise to anxieties, worries and fears among teachers.

****

‘Why did I become a teacher?’ is a question that haunts me every now and then. I am told that it is a ‘noble profession’, and that I would be contributing to building the future generation. I know that for me the impulse to teach came from a simpler feeling: I wanted to share in the life of growing young people. And I must admit that after a few years of teaching I do still enjoy much of the daily interactions I have with my students. However, when I look around me, and hear what people actually have to say about schools and teachers, I worry that I may be in the wrong place. The pace of life is so fast today. Many people I know are moving from job to job, gathering experiences, getting quantum jumps in their pay-packets, building their careers. Am I getting ‘left behind’? Am I stagnating? What will my future be? With a few more years of teaching the same subject in the same school, will I be typecast as the ‘school master’ who never ‘progressed’ in life? Will I be seen as a failure? Perhaps even by my parents and relatives? I know that they worry about my marriage prospects. Whenever such thoughts come to my mind, I try to push them away, just put my head down and try to think of the next day with my students. It is they who keep me going.

****

I have completed one more round of revision with my students for the upcoming terminal exams. But some of them still seem worried. I can see it in their faces, and in the way they ask me, ‘Sir, will such and such come for the exam’, ‘Can you show me how to do this once again’ etc. And this in turn worries me. I have often grappled with this problem: how to teach the subject well and yet meet the demands of an overloaded syllabus, and also prepare them for the types of questions that are expected to come in the exam. It seems nearly impossible in the limited time available. When I have tried to have a fuller discussion and explore the topic at hand, a few students become impatient and request me to ‘stick to the syllabus’. They seem mainly keen on increasing their exam scores. I enjoy my subject and through my teaching I have wanted to share my own interest in it with students. But given the type of syllabus and exams, and the attitude of these students (I know I cannot blame them; the parents and the school administrators are also pushing them with their expectations) I feel that I am caught between the devil and the deep sea. Often I have had to call my weaker students home to help them catch up with topics that I have had to rush through in class. During this pre-exam phase, along with some of my students, I too end up having sleepless nights. I am also worried about their exam results, about what their parents will think, and how the administrators will judge me.

****

I had my first class with a new batch of Class X students. It was unnerving. I know that these are young adolescents. I have known several previous batches of adolescents, and there were always some who were a little wayward or naughty. I would figure them out soon enough and manage to befriend them, or at least handle them adequately. But this group was ‘something else’!

I could sense a kind of hostility behind their impassive faces and refusal to be drawn into a ‘friendly discussion’. There seems to be a ‘gang’ among them which calls the shots and for some reason they had decided that they were not going to cooperate with me. I have known of chits being passed among students in class, but here I could sense that mobile phones in silent mode were being used to communicate messages. They seemed to be very clever and practised at this. I was hardly prepared for something like this. Since I could not penetrate their stony silence, I was left with no choice but to adopt a lecture mode for most of my class, and ended by asking them to copy instructions I wrote on the board. I am left with a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Should I discuss this with my colleagues (who I know have always spoken negatively of this batch!)? Or should I wait a while and make my own efforts at establishing some kind of a relationship first? Will I be able to reach out to them? When I think of that blur of faces in front of me, it makes me nervous even now.

****

Last week I had an upsetting encounter with a parent and my principal, which made me want to quit my job! Yes, I know that I was angry with Suresh for his behaviour in the class. He is one of our bright students and generally comes first in most tests and examinations. Having been made much of by many teachers, he had become rather cocky and sometimes even rude. I was concerned that not only was he making his own personality rather offensive, but also affecting the atmosphere of the group. I had it in mind that he needed to be toned down and made to feel more responsible. On that particular day, I noticed ripples of disturbance—suppressed giggles and annoyed glances—emanating from him. I realized that he was surreptitiously playing with a mobile and passing around some jokes or comments. I walked over to him and took his mobile away (these are not allowed in our school and are meant to be confiscated). He turned on me and rudely demanded to have it back. I told him to see the principal if he wanted it back, and asked him to leave the class. He left fuming. Later in the day, when I went to speak to the principal, I saw Suresh’s father in his office. The man looked accusingly at me, and told me that Suresh had special permission to bring a mobile to school since he was going for IIT coaching classes soon after school and had to travel alone by bus. When I tried to explain what Suresh had been up to, the principal cut me short and asked me to restore the mobile to the father. He also told me that I should have first checked with Suresh why he had a mobile, before taking action. I felt unheard, humiliated, and deeply sad that Suresh would now become even more unresponsive to correction. I did not know how I would face him or this class ever again. If it had not been for a repentant Suresh, who later came quietly and sincerely apologized to me, I would probably have been forced to give in my resignation letter. I feel severely let down by the authorities. They seem to view parents as ‘clients’ who are not to be displeased.

****

I was passing by the staff room when I overheard these comment, ‘He is a bit too sincere … or maybe just a workaholic … I don’t know why he spends all his time with his books or with students.’ Someone responded, ‘I think he is just anti-social … thinks he is a bit superior … does not like to chat or gossip with us. What would be the harm if he could let his hair down once in a while?’ Another added, ‘I think he is just adding up ‘brownie points’ with the administration … has ambitions of becoming an HOD perhaps.’ They all laughed and the conversation moved on. But I was left wondering, ‘Who are they referring to? Could it be me? But don’t I talk to most of my colleagues … though I do prefer the company of students … I know I am perhaps a bit shy with some of my colleagues, especially those who go on endlessly complaining about this or that.’ I was now certain that they meant me. But what did they mean by the ambition of becoming an HOD? I was disturbed and uneasy by what seemed to me as ungracious images that these colleagues held about me. Again I asked myself, ‘Why did I become a teacher?’

****

On the bus going home, it was raining and darkness was descending early. A lot of disconnected images and emotions were going through my mind. All around me was the chatter and occasional squeals of students, glad to be going home after a long day at school. I too had had a busy day: five teaching periods, a staff meeting, one meeting with a parent, supervision of the after-school games period. Images of various students, a sheaf of test papers to be corrected, a worksheet half completed, flashed through my mind. I looked out of the window, seeing streaks of neon and yellow sodium lights flash by, briefly illuminating hurrying figures under umbrellas and huddled shapes under shelters. My thoughts shot forward home, and images of my father lying sick in bed floated in … my mother fussing by his side, waiting for me to return and relieve her … I was anxious now to reach. But the bus, with the students and me ensconced within, whined and jerked at its own pace through the wet streets. Looking out at the jangling jigsaw of this urban world, my mind suddenly wondered about the disconnected meanings of our lives together. Though we held by same the structure and shared some daily communication in school … what were they and I learning? What was the purpose of this education? How did it relate to our lives outside of school? How did it make a difference to the social world which they and I are part of? Did we care about living our lives well? Did we consider these other people out in the rain and wind? What connection did we have with wider world? What is our own place in the scheme of things? The sorrow of unanswered questions welled up inside, as I wondered ‘Was this the way a future generation would come into being?’ My world suddenly seemed a dark and lonely place.