Category: #WordsMatter

Throwback Times

Throwback Times

I must begin with a warning: This one is going to be a completely all-about-me post. The thing is I am writing about twenty years ago, a time when my current twin muses weren’t even a thought. In fact, they were in full danger of not happening at all.

Twenty years ago was so long ago that I didn’t even have to use a sepia setting on my pictures.

Twenty years ago I was as far from being an Obsessivemom as I am now from not being one.

Twenty years ago I was in the process of discovering a whole different side of me, an interest, a passion I didn’t even know existed.

Do bear with me as I roll the flashback just a little further than two decades. I had given up my job in Mumbai and was headed towards a whole new life. Along with The Husband, I landed in a quiet little city that offered absolutely no opportunities in my line of work.

Blissfully unaware of the rather bleak scenario that awaited me, I fished out my resume and began my job hunt. I had a prepared a list of placement agencies and that’s where I went. I ticked off every single placement office on my list and then some more. Some were tiny one room setups, some not even that – just a man with table and chair in the verandah of his home. I read through the telephone directory (they were real things back then) and called each potential office. I even took to cold calling. I’d be treated with respect always, for that I’m grateful, offered a cold glass of water but no job.

Finally, one of the placement agents made me the offer of working with him. He was launching an employment newspaper and wanted me to help him set it up. My sales/finance background and my English speaking skills were the only factors that worked to my advantage. There was no promise of a salary just some vague mention of a commission and the promise of a partnership.

Out of sheer desperation I accepted.

And I slogged.

The name had already been decided (which I thought was all wrong, but I had no say in the matter). I sat with the artist to design the name and logo, I went to the Office of Registrar of Newspapers for the name approval, I followed up for ads and subscriptions, interviewed people, wrote the pieces, helped with the designing of the layout and finally delivered the printed papers to magazine-stores and also stuck labels and posted them to our handful of subscribers. I did it all. Along with my boss/partner and his wife. 

It was a crazy year. I got laughed at constantly for working for ‘free’. It sounds stupid even to me, in retrospect. Perhaps it sounded stupid even then but it wasn’t like I had many options. And I did get paid, occasionally, randomly as and when the money came in. Besides, I have to admit, I was beginning to enjoy myself. There was a certain thrill in creating something from absolute scratch. I polished my writing and interviewing skills, my typing speed increased, I became rather good at Quark Express, the software used back then to design newspapers. I also picked some bit of photoshop.

A year and a half later, a much more skilled me, found a way into a local daily and was given almost independent charge of a weekly Women’s magazine that went with the paper every Wednesday.

And that’s where I was twenty years ago. It was an exciting time. The paper might not have had a national presence but it commanded a certain degree of respect as it was the best known English daily of the city. Besides, since most ‘serious’ reporters focussed on the political stuff (which I wasn’t interested in anyway), as a relative newbie handling a lifestyle magazine, I had a whole large field left to me. I got to meet a host of interesting people – theatre personalities, musicians, litterateurs and sportspersons. The city had a rich cultural milieu and I spent my days watching plays in quaint amphitheatres, covering SPICMACAY music fests, attending food festivals, book fairs and book launches.

A few years later a National Daily came to the city and I found a place on the team, then moved to another city, another paper and finally to Pune.

Twenty years ago seems like a whole different lifetime and yet had that not happened, had I not taken that first ‘stupid’ assignment I wouldn’t have been the person I am now.

Everything, really does happen for a reason.

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I received this tag from Esha M Dutta at MySoulTalks . It’s my pleasure to pass on this tag to Geethica at Thoughts By Geethica. There are 29  of us on this Blog Hop and it will be spread over 3 days – 1st, 2nd and 3rd November  2019. Do follow the #WordsMatter Blog Hop and prepare to be surprised! 

My Teacher Hates Me

My Teacher Hates Me

We sit together, bent over their books.
The twins and I.
‘I hate it’, says N, throwing down her pen.
She knows I dislike the work ‘hate’ and so she says it again,
‘I hate this teacher and I hate this subject.’

For once, I refuse to rise to the bait deciding instead, that we all could do with a break. She walks off relieved and so do I.

It cannot be that time of the year without an exam post. Right? It’s a biennual ritual of sorts on the blog. This time however, there is a larger issue that’s been plaguing me for a while.

To be fair it’s been a rough year for all of us what with our move and the increased academic pressure. To make matters worse N has had it specially hard with a particular teacher who ‘hates her’, according to her. It doesn’t help that the subject is one of her least favourite ones.

I find it hard to believe that a teacher can hate a student, specially a non-trouble making, eager-to-please child like N and I’m not being partisan.

I know only too well that not being liked by a teacher can prejudice one against a subject for life. This particular teacher’s remarks range from mildly insulting to downright cruel. To be fair, none of his remarks are personal, but they’re mean nevertheless.

The thought of having a word with him has crossed my mind but I’ve been reluctant to do so. The thing is we all have had unpleasant teachers, the ones who insulted us in the worst possible ways. We learnt to handle them. We’d try get into their good books, we’d work harder or we’d simply lie low and get by.

So what has changed? Because something certainly has. I am seeing first hand how deeply it affects N. I see her already shaky teenage self-esteem being slowly chipped away by this one teacher. I know for a fact N isn’t the only one – I know of specific cases of other teachers and other children. Why are children so deeply affected these days?

Is it something to do with our parenting? Are we raising over-sensitive children? Is the idea of ‘gentle parenting’ proving to be counterproductive? If I intervene on her behalf am I taking away a learning opportunity from her? Easing her way, rather than letting her find her own?

Or

Have the teachers become less patient, more judgemental? It’s hardly a crime to not be good at a particular subject. Why be cruel? Back in our time, did we accept our teachers because we had complete faith in their impartiality and their intentions, which isn’t so now?

Or it’s none of the above

but just me, being an over anxious parent, giving too much importance to my daughter’s pain, which she might not even remember a few years hence?

 

It’s crazy how much of an overdrive my head goes into. Yeah, I’m seriously considering changing my name from obsessivemom to very-very-confused-over-thinking-mom.

I’d love to hear from you. How would you handle a situation like this?

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I am participating in the #wordsmatter bloghop. 38 of us have come together to write for this bloghop. I received the tag from Holly Jahangiri who blogs at A Fresh Perspective and I’m happy to pass on the tag to Rajlakshmi at Destiny’s ChildFollow the #WordsMatter Blog Hop for some interesting posts.

On my other blog: Beat About The Book

Who Should be Buddha? #BookBytes 21

Who Should be Buddha? #BookBytes 21

I’d read and loved Liberation of Sita by Volga so it was with high expectations that I picked up Yashodhara by the same author. Here’s a quote from the book that made me think: I can’t become a path finder though I have the desire to become one. So, I must make the path of […]