Hurry up! before its gone. Grab the BESTSELLERS now.
Hurry up! before its gone. Grab the BESTSELLERS now.



4 mins 11K 4 mins 11K

A room full of boisterous boys and a few graceful girls, equally vivacious, arrayed in a languid disarray is what a classroom of 17-year-olds looks like to a teacher.

Their effervescence brimming with energy in every pore of their being seem to ooze out in all of their acts which are sadly mistaken by the adults (teachers) whose youth is lost on them.

Every time a class begins and what teachers do is invade their raucous disorder by forcing on them the meticulously planned rigours of life. Even through a lecture, it is only a meagre negligible percentage of their attention we hold. Their senses act as a defense mechanism, shifting for brief moments during that inevitable period of torture only to spring back with renewed vigour.

A wilderness that spreads and captures every iota of space nature has provided; breathing freely the oxygen given; soaking in the sun and greedily lapping the water to grow untamed. This is them.

A beauty of nature embellished in their clamorous approach towards life and daily activities. Lectures are but a brief spell (whether we could even call that a spell is doubtful) and teachers constantly attack their space with assignments, tests, and projects and cause a ripple. Mind it! Just a ripple as their world is too deep to even cause a wave.

Such vivacity and energy exhibited so guilelessly are what makes their character. There is a rare, unique combination of wildness and order, the order of nature, in them. I see the ubiquitous jungle that holds all and sundry plants, trees, shrubs, grass, moulds and wildflowers growing at odd places and yet creating an exclusive pattern paving space for all.

In every interaction with them, teachers feel their surging verve straining under the thin wall of rules, regulations, timetables, orders, discipline etc. Every moment is theirs.

Within the confines one can see their strength, their spirited nature exhibiting in ebullience to spill and splash outside the lines of limits; one can hear their bubbling life coming alive taking a distinct note, in tune with the nature; one can feel their warmth throbbing in their veins and charging the air around them with a wave of joie de vivre.

In this current of youth and pizazz, our intervention is but a small boulder in their path, which their river of zing simply circumvents and joins again to continue unperturbed. Strangely we are part of them too. They have accepted us in their own way again reiterating their closeness with nature.

Giving lectures, thrusting assignments, posing them challenges (tests), all are accepted norms of invasion, but checking their bags? Yes! We did that too! (how certain actions get coloured and become accepted, as a rule, the moment you call it a rule just beats me!). Some with practiced fingers, some bold and yet some hesitating fingers we bared open their bags to 'discover' unacceptable items (as it was the purpose of the search program).

What did we see? smell? feel? hear? A new facet, a new shade of their being, their personality, the same orderliness amidst the disorderly arrangement of books, crushed notebook papers, crumpled chocolate wrappers, pencil shavings with all due respect gracing the base of the various small pockets of their bags.

The moment we zipped open, a gush of their persona, a waft of their élan mingled with dirt collected by constant lugging of their bags from home to school and vice-versa and a fair amount of sweat attacked us. Undeterred we plowed through.

Slipping fingers through the layers of pouches, in between the books, we again felt their life a neat shamble and were transported to our own school days and in a zap, we felt young again.

Their cry of innocence belying all evidence against them reached our hearts, but, stopped short of reaching our brains resulting in strict disciplinary actions.

We were undoubtedly tuned to being the marshals of order; hence we bared those innocent wrappers and hooked them all to dry on the line of chastisement.

Time passed. We teachers sat and shared our findings, read in between the items and analyzed the motives with a seriousness that even outshined the purpose of that invasion.

Lo! There they were! Having sprung back to their earlier zap, they continued with the same fervour. Did anything change? No!  Our intrusion was but a small inconsequential block on the road that is just by-passed.

A raid that never overran them just happened.


Rate this content
Log in

More english story from Usha Murali

Similar english story from Inspirational