By- Parika Singh
Clad in a pink georgette sari on the special request of her students, the Head Mistress of Government Middle School No. 51, Kulkarni Nagar, Indore, reluctantly agreed to celebrate Teacher’s Day this year. “The students should be celebrated”, Ms. Anulata Singh would say whenever accolades were bestowed upon her. Awarded with Rajya Stariya Shaikshik Samman (State level Education Trophy) and chosen among 100 inspirational educators in the book Meri Shaikshik Yatra (My Educational Journey) after 31 years of exemplary service, Anulata had never imagined being part of the teaching profession in her youth.
A school topper and university gold medallist, young Anu had dreams of clearing the medical entrance exam. But lack of resources impeded those ambitions and her marriage brought in further challenges. Her in-laws felt a government teaching job was the only respectable avenue for their daughter-in-law. Despite her crumbled aims, a newly married Anu took upon the only opportunity available to her and began educating young minds. Initially posted in a distant village, Anu balanced the commute with a joint family and a newborn, but only considered it an unexpected gift.
“If you have come into this world, try not to leave it without doing everything you can to make it a better place”, she would often say, while slowly transforming the dilapidated image of government schools in the country.
Often disregarded for representing empty tin sheds, disinterested teachers, and minimal students, the gleaming white building in an impoverished area of the city stands as a shining beacon of what government schools can aspire to be. By 10 in the morning, GMS No. 51 bustled with activity as the teachers called upon over 400 students playing in front of the entrance which declared, Jahan Bachhe Haste Hain, Vahan Bhagwan Baste Hain (Where children laugh, there God resides).
Divided into four houses, a tradition more commonly practiced in private schools, young kids proudly don their house t-shirts while sitting in interactive classes, taking part in sports or co-curricular activities, reading the morning assembly news, working in the science lab or debating topical issues in the Bal Cabinet, i.e., the student parliament. Unsurprisingly, these unique initiatives were often covered by various media correspondents as they unanimously agreed, Kuch Alag Hai Ye Government School (This Government School is quite different).
Now two years before retirement, their Head Mistress was still the first person to reach at 9:30, only to get quickly surrounded by a throng of students all speaking to her at the same time. “The success of these kids is the only reward I want in life”, she would reaffirm each time someone wanted to invite her to an award or felicitation ceremony. She felt those students were deprived of all the privileges easily accorded to children of affluent backgrounds and knew they deserved additional care, compassion, and aid to overcome their difficult circumstances.
Belonging to broken, abusive, or destitute homes, their teacher and this school became the only safe place many of them had ever known. “These children bring so much joy to my life, the least I can do is create some in their life”, Anu would say as she implored parents to send their girls to school, paid for their higher education when they cleared entrances and dismantled the stigma attached with their social status. However, she faced one of her biggest challenges when she could not access these kids during the COVID lockdown.
While students in private schools adapted to virtual classes on their laptops, students of GMS No. 51 in Kulkarni Nagar, walked thousands of kilometers across the length and breadth of the country as most belonged to families of migrant workers suddenly laid off from their jobs. Uncertain of their return, many of them carried their entire belongings and walked toward remote villages without schools, adequate lighting, or daily wages. Anu could see the future she envisioned for them slipping away, helpless in her inability to protect them.
She spent the lockdown period tracking them down and created WhatsApp groups for each class. Without smartphones or laptops, virtual classes were unthinkable so Anu decided to utilize their limited data packs for reading material. She then began recording small audio files to explain the lesson plans and urged her students to share their phones with those without them. Soon they began telling her about their friends/ neighbours/ cousins in the village whose schools had completely shut down and even those who had never been to school. That was all it took for her to enfold them under her wing.
Hundreds of kids with no connection to her school or state were added to those groups throughout the lockdown months as Anu relentlessly tried to teach children who could merely listen to short audio clips or read lessons huddled together over a 2-inch screen.
“I will only get officially retired”, she would always insist. “My work will not end at 62. The only difference will be the retirement of my official title and salary account. I will then be free to teach anyone from anywhere who wants to get an education and break the generational cycle. Their parents, their society, even their destiny could not be there for them. But they look up to me to be there. I cannot let them down.”
And thus, ‘Singh ma’am’, as she was fondly known, relented to her students’ demands the previous day and agreed to accept their heartfelt wishes while wearing their favourite sari today. Looking at their unrestrained glee and enthusiasm, she couldn’t help but smile. Anu could see their future again.
Her journey exemplifies the story of every teacher who came into our lives, nurtured us, and made us into who we are today. As Henry Adams had wisely said,
“A teacher affects eternity; one can never tell where their influence stops”.
Wishing all our revered teachers a very Happy Teachers’ Day!
