Tag: school

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10 wonderful things I learnt at school

Like for most others, schooldays were perhaps the best days of my life. However, I like to think that my school was better than everyone elses. Yeah! yeah! you can say what you like and argue all you want but ours really was just that tad bit better. Today on Teacher’s Day I’m sharing some priceless lessons that I got at my school. 

1. The joy of singing in a choir

The skill and energy that the nuns put into teaching us hymns at school will stay with me forever. In fact when I had the twins I found myself singing ‘Joy to the world‘ while putting them to sleep. And later when my son took up music and came home humming ‘Give me oil in my lamp‘ I felt such a sense of home coming. Others might think of Rajesh Khanna at the mention of the piano but I will always remember Sister Alice Mary.

2. To say it with cards

We made cards for everything. invitation cards, thank you cards, sorry cards, get well soon cards! A habit that has stayed with me and one I’ve tried tirelessly to pass on to the children.

3. That punishment could be given creatively

We got some of the most creative punishments in school. We’ve been paraded before our younger siblings (‘Look how careless your OLDER sister is!’), made to sing Edelweiss, made to hold our tongues, quite literally (just trying doing that for a while), made to stand inside a waste paper basket.

4. That books are to be respected

‘No bookmarks no books’, was the rule in our library and I remain compulsive about bookmarks. The other day I’d gone to get a passage from a book photocopied and as the lady there turned down the corner of the page I winced so audibly she thought I’d hurt myself.

5. That girlfriends are the best friends

Aren’t they? That comfortable feeling of being completely yourself, of being able to talk about ‘anything’ under the sun. Yeah girlfriends are special.

6. That cricket isn’t the only game in town

Along with basketball, throwball and volleyball we played games like French Cricket and Danish Rounders. Heard of them? Anyone? For the record: We played no cricket.

7. That all religions are to be respected

I think it’s a great idea to study in a school of a faith different from yours. It gives not just tolerance but love for that other religion. Growing up in Lucknow in a Hindu household, with Muslim culture all around and a Christian school. It can’t get better.

8. That it was perfectly normal for girls to play boys’ parts in school plays

… and hilariously funny for boys to play girls’ parts in all-boys schools.

 

9. That kids with raffle sheets deserve kindness

Those weren’t the times of multi-storied societies. Only I know how many times I have roamed around houses brandishing raffle sheets and trying to explain to people (very far removed from raffle sheets) what it was all about!

10. To keep my knees together when I sit

Right from my earliest memory of school, I was never a girl – always a young lady. And there were some things that ladies never did. They never shuffled their feet when they walked, they kept their shoulders back and heads up, they always spoke politely and they kept their knees together when they sat.

So tell me what’s special about your school people.

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G is for ‘Something Good in everything’

H has a mentally challenged child in his class, A. H often talks about him and enjoys being with him because, “A is most fun to be with. His brain works differently ma,” he explained to me (No doubt as explained to him by his teacher).

A few days back he said it was A’s birthday and asked for a gift for him. I’m not big on gifts, (I prefer cards), but when H insisted I wrapped a small one for him.

I forgot about it till this Saturday when I went for the Parent-Teacher meet. During the conversation his teacher said, “A’s mum has asked specially to convey her regards to you. She had tears in her eyes, so touched was she with H’s gift for A…..:,”. I was beginning to puzzle over, what I thought was, a bit of an overreaction, for a small gift. Then, continued H’s teacher, “…specially after A had attacked him a day earlier”.

That made me sit up. How come H didn’t mentioned this? H, who shows me every tiny hurt.

I took it up with him. “Did A hurt you?” I asked.
“Yes mama. He didn’t want me to sit at his desk but teacher had asked me to, so when I went and sat he got angry. But then teacher came and helped me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because it was only A. He doesn’t mean to be bad. He gets angry sometimes. I’ve told you na, his brain works differently,” was his reply.

This was H
– who remembers every single real or perceived injury and insult for ages.
– who doesn’t pause to think before landing a punch at his sister.
– for whom I went to a counsellor when he was 3, because he couldn’t control his anger.

Oh he’s come a long long way. I was so proud….
…of H for not holding a grudge, for being so mature.
.. and of their school for practising ‘inclusive education’ in its true sense.

It cannot be easy. I’ve heard other parents complaining and do perhaps understand their concerns for their children. However, now I see how positive it can be to have A in the same class, not just for him but for the other children as well. (What is required, is perhaps a little more help and vigilance from caretakers).

Isn’t this what differently abled children need? Not pity, not special schools, not special treatment.. Just a matter of fact understanding that they do things differently, react differently, that they are ‘different’, not less not more, than the other kids.

And a HUGE HUGE thank you to A for bringing out the best in my son and for introducing me to a whole new side of him.

There really is “Something Good in everything”.

*********

Linking to ABC Wednesday . Do click on the link for more great entries.

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People on the playground

I’m obsessivemom remember? So today in search of ‘People’ I go to my favourite playing field – the children’s school… on Sports Day.. and I’ll see what ‘people’ I find. So are you with me folks? This is going to be fun. 

Even as we saunter in.. “Excuse me, please,” says someone and breezes ahead without a backward glance. 

This is a lady in a hurry for she’s the 
Eager-beaver mum
She’s the first to arrive, first to find the best seat. She’s the one who will crane her neck and strain her eye to spot her kid in the crowd. She will wave and blow kisses as soon as she does so and will continue to wave long after the child’s melted away in the sea of uniforms. But hey what’s this pushing at her chair, poking at her feet blocking her view of her darling daughter? 

Move over.. he’s the
Photo-fanatic dad
He is armed with multiple cameras and that’s his tripod. He will set it up with great care (for the tripod not for other parents who are mere obstacles in his photographic journey). Oh he will smile out a perfunctory sorry, for he is a gentleman. But it’s advisable to keep your distance as he tries some fifty camera angles until finally he finds the perfect one. Then he will proceed to video the entire show. Entire! All the while he will issue instructions to the wife to keep clicking stills. He’s not merely clicking pictures, he’s making memories for his dear darling. If she wins the race he’ll pluck out his camera from the tripod and race to the victory stand to zoom in onto that winning smile. It has to be captured in all it’s nuances, right? Aargh… what’s this in front of his camera?

Oooh don’t mess with her for she’s the 
You-gotta-win mum
You’ve got to hand it to her for her focus. She’s here only for that one single race, the one in which her Rohan is running. Once the whistle blows she is in their element. “Come on Rohan.. Come on .. Faster baby..faster… We’ve done faster at home.. No no no.. DO NOT look back.. I TOLD you not to look back EVER.. Eyes at the finish line.. Come on..”. She has the strongest lungs and the loudest claps. Oops Rohan slipped.. “Get up Rohan.. you can still do it,” says she. No matter that it was she who distracted him in the first place, no matter that little Rohan couldn’t care less. No sir.. She’s unstoppable. If Rohan doesn’t win there’s bound to have been foul play. “Didn’t you see the winner started off before the whistle?” Or “The judges didn’t look properly. I SAW Rohan cross the line first. Yes I did.“

“Relax lady will you? I am trying to hold a conversation here,” says the gentleman in the suit. He’s the 
when-will-this-be-over dad
He’s the busy executive always on his iPhone. At the same time he is trying to study some figures on his iPad. He’s probably been dragged there by the kids and his wife. (Lord save him if he has to deal with an eager-beaver mum or worse a you-gotta-win mum). He’ll shut his iPad for a moment when his son’s race comes on. Even as young Vedant runs to the finish line he’s probably thinking..’Gosh I forgot to tell Smriti to send off that fax’. The crowd, the noise don’t much register. However there’s one person who’s really studying the crowd. 

She’s our fashionista mum
She’s impeccably dressed. Her straight dark black hair fall to her shoulders in one shiny wave. As she settles the d&g glares on her head she flashes meticulously applied coral nail paint on her perfectly manicured fingers. Her shoes are Jimmy Choos and her bag is Gucci. A delicate umbrella shields her from the sun. She cannot risk the tan. She scours the crowd rating the men and women. “Blue denims everywhere.. boring, boring! Oooh burgundy trousers.. must get one of those. That fuchsia’s great. But teaming it with black? Nope doesn’t do anything for it, white’s the colour. Yeah fuchsia and white. Ugh.. sneakers.. orange sneakers..”

Don’t balk fashionista mum, meet the 
Super-sporty mum
She’s the one who’ll gladly spend her life in sports shoes and a tee that says ‘I PLAY TO WIN’. She’s the one who cannot wait for the kids’ races to end so that it’s the parents’ turn. Woe be to her if she’s saddled with a when-will-this–be-over dad or even a photo-fanatic dad who doesn’t want to partner her. But she’s a sport right? She doesn’t give up. So she’ll look around asking everyone with a smile you cannot resist .. “will you be my partner,” till she strikes gold. If you partner her make sure you have running shoes on for Boy! can she run!

A confession…
I’d put myself in the eager-beaver mum class.. well I have to be that since The Husband is the quintessential when-will-this-be-over dad. Oh the arguments we have! It’s good for the kids, though. We do manage to even each other out a bit and strike a balance. What kind are you?

It’s Day 6 at the Write Tribe Festival of Words. The prompt for today is ‘People’. For some great takes from Write Tribers go here.

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Blockbuster Weekend

What a weekend this has been and N has been the undisputed leading lady of the week. We had some high octane sports, lots of dance, some drama and a bit of action thrown in too.

On Friday the kids had their Sports Day 
The Husband excused himself, citing “unavoidable official work” (Lest the quotes don’t convey my disbelief, let me say it out “I didn’t believe him”). He’s a heartless man to leave me alone to witness two dozen races all on my own. After finding a place in the first row (some consolation) and trying fruitlessly to strike up a conversation with the two ladies (also alone) on either side I opened my BlackBerry and settled down for the wait. One of the women had brought along a book and I thought that was a great idea. I idly clicked some pics of the empty victory stand and the grounds, thinking that was all what I would take home.

There couldn’t have been a day more perfect… clear, breezy and cool

The introductory walk started and H passed by me looking exactly over my head waving to God knows who. Then N came along and spotted me right away. She waved so hard and blew so many kisses that the commentator remarked on it. Muah.. to expressive daughters.

And then she went and won a medal.. yay!! It would not have been a big deal if it hadn’t been N. She has been longing for one for the longest time. It was truly a ‘dream come true’ moment for her. Each Sports Day I handle a deluge of tears so I was just glad she was the one who got it. While H, doesn’t normally bother he was a trifle put out with all the attention N was getting.

Still can’t quite believe it

That’s the trouble with having twins. However, to his credit, he handled it pretty well. He promptly cooked up an imaginary injury (on his hand) because of which he couldn’t win!

Saturday morning was the kanjak and N was all thrilled with the morning partying till I burst her bubble a bit with my lecturing. Mums need to do that sometimes.

Saturday evening it was dandiya time, N’s forte through and through. The dressing up and the dancing… what more can a girl ask for? Take a look..

Sunday morning it was Dussehra and the kids made a rangoli thanks to Shruti’s help from Artsy Craftsy Mum. Of course she’d promised it would take 15 minutes flat but they spent much more time – drawing, wiping, bickering, fighting – it took them all morning. A case of two-many-cooks!

Sunday evening we enrolled N for Bharatnatyam class 
Although I was a bit apprehensive about putting her in but I completely loved the atmosphere – the puja before the enrollment, the Krishna bhajan that won over N instantly – the Indianness of it all was very very heart warming. Such a sweet contrast to the Bollywood dancing I see everywhere. I need to clarify though, that I have nothing against Bollywood dancing, moreso since I’m no good at any dancing at all! But this was just different. I do hope N takes to it and keeps at it.

And finally to end the day ..
H punched N on the mouth and she came home all bloodied. The cuts inside her lip and cheek seemed too deep so we rushed to the hospital where mercifully she didn’t need stitches. On antibiotics for the week.

Whew!!

So how was your weekend?

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Independence…

.. is a good thing right? That’s what I thought till H came back from school and decided he would do his homework all on his own. So what’s wrong with that you’re thinking. The thing is H suffers from ‘I know everything’ syndrome. I’ve blogged about this earlier and that’s the only complaint his teachers have had from him over the years.Just so you get the depth of the problem…

He would spell words phonetically and refuse to believe his teacher when corrected (as if the English language had any logic!).

Till very recently he believed genuinely, truly that he could swim, (without ever having gone in water more than two feet deep) and that he could breath under water (Mercifully, he was convinced otherwise when I put him for swimming lessons!).

He believes cooking is the easiest thing in the world (all you do is chop, add stuff and wait and it’s done).

He believes making a dosa is a piece of cake (spread the batter, put oil, turn it over and it’s done).

He believes driving is easy (it’s the same as driving a toy car.. move the steering that’s all).

And so today he came home saying his teacher had said he should do his homework on his own so he doesn’t need my help. I was pretty happy till I saw him make a sentence..

Notion (meaning ‘idea’): I have a bright notion.. I will tell you about it.

When I tried to explain it’s usage this is what he did….

I’m realising how difficult it is for parents to watch their children making mistakes, to know they’re wrong and yet to leave them alone to learn in their own time at their own pace. Not that I have much choice.
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