I never dreamed of being a teacher. Unlike many of my B.Ed classmates, I didn’t spend my childhood pretending to write on walls or acting like a teacher. Yet, life has its own mysterious ways of guiding us to where we truly belong. This memory is one I’ll carry with me for a long time, and I’m writing it down to relive whenever I need a reminder of why this journey matters.

• Event: Mattanchery Sub-district Shastrolsavam
• Location: SDPY Higher Secondary School, Palluruthy, Kochi

B.Ed and TTC students were assigned duties alongside other event coordinators, as there were various competitions such as volleyball net-making, chalk-making, and more.

Lizana and I were put in charge of the chalk-making competition for the lower primary, upper primary, high school, and higher secondary sections.

Participants, along with their parents and teachers, crowded the area, and we had to disperse them. Once the participants were in their designated spots, the competition began at exactly 10 AM. We started by marking attendance and collecting signatures from the registered students.

I don’t know if everyone experiences memory flashes like I do, but I often get them. While taking out the attendance sheet, I was reminded of a kind invigilator I met during my postgraduate exam. She took the time to say “All the best” to every student while checking their hall tickets. I’ve seen invigilators wish students luck collectively, usually at the end of giving instructions, and even that is rare. But her personalized wish won my heart, and I thought to myself that I would do the same if I ever got the chance. This was my chance. I said “All the best” to the first few students, but soon got caught up in the rush of registration numbers and paperwork.

Within 30 minutes, everything was sorted out, and we had enough time to marvel at the talents of these gifted kids. There were confident, confused, motivated, and stressed children among them. Although we all complained about the scorching sun and irritating heat, I was enjoying every bit of the process. It was a moment of realization. I had a comfortable environment in a magnificent, fancy building at my previous job, but it was heartless. It couldn’t bring me any joy. Here, amidst all this, I found happiness. Children and their innocence are nothing but pure joy. I know that a classroom setting isn’t all fun and joy, especially when they create messes. But some messes are way better than others.

After a while, Lizana and I took our seats, and I noticed a girl talking to one of our participants. She was in charge of the clay model-making competition, and their venue was very close to ours in the same corridor.

I went over, and she explained that the boy, a lower primary participant, was tense because his chalks were not coming out of the mold. He was almost in tears but still trying to make it work. We consoled him, telling him that he had two more hours to try again. It was my first time witnessing the chalk-making process: a mixture of chalk-making powder is filled into a mold until it sets, after which the chalks are removed and dried. I couldn’t stick around for too long because of my dust allergy, but I kept my eye on him from afar. I noticed that the girl continued to encourage the boy with her kind and reassuring words.

A few minutes later, I went back to check on them and this time struck up a conversation with the girl. She was a TTC student from a nearby college.

The boy still looked anxious as his chalks were breaking and sticking to the mold. I told him that he had plenty of time to get it right, but my words didn’t seem to ease his tension. Meanwhile, the TTC girl approached another participant to ask why the chalks were sticking and learned that it was due to the mixture and lack of practice. I noticed that she was doing everything she could to motivate the boy. She wasn’t even in charge of his competition, but here she was, doing everything possible to lift his spirits. Her attitude and words toward the child impressed me. “She’s truly meant to be a teacher,” I thought.

Time ticked by, and to my surprise, the boy started getting it right. I saw him taking out the chalks properly. By the end of the competition, he had made over 30 chalks! When the bell rang, we asked the participants to stop and present their work. The boy hurriedly cleaned up his area and got his chalks ready, with the TTC girl still helping him, holding covers as he worked. Finally, he managed to get his product ready just in time.

The external evaluators came and assessed each participant’s work. We all knew he wouldn’t win. His chalks were imperfect, and he hadn’t met all the technical requirements. But to me, there were two winners that day: that little boy and the TTC girl who never gave up on him. Both had won. Both had taught me lessons more valuable than any classroom teaching. His parents and tiny sister came to him when the gates were opened, and they were more than excited to see his chalks. That girl, who might be five or six years younger than me, and who is clearly meant to be a teacher, was the reason for the pride in those parents’ eyes.

That young boy taught me about resilience, and she showed me what it means to be a TEACHER!

This moment wasn’t about competition or grades; it was about the connections we build, the encouragement we give, and the lives we shape along the way. And that, above all else, is what teaching truly is.

Our professor often shares this definition of teaching in class, but today, she brought it to life right before my eyes! 

“Education isn’t just about delivering facts; it’s about shaping young minds to think critically and adapt to the complexities of the world.”

   Written by Aswathy P Raju