It was a rainy day and it was the eighth period of the day. I was in standard VII. It was the English hour. My English teacher, Miss Loretta Solomon, was in charge of that hour. All of us liked Miss Solomon (as we called her). Unlike other teachers, she had her own box, just like we had one. A short foot ruler, a pencil, an ink eraser, a pencil eraser, a ballpoint pen, one each of blue and red, were always there in her box. An Anglo-Indian, she did not like a hair out of place. She used to wear knee-length skirts, do her shoulder-length hair with two hairpins behind her ears and be as fresh in the eighth period as she was in the first. She was and is the role model for many of my school students, including me. She came into the class, wearing her usual smile. We were tired, but never did we fail to smile back at her.
Usually, she used to check our homework for the first 5-10 minutes and start the day's lessons. Those of us who had not completed the homework would be asked to stand until we were done with it. The same happened that day, but unfortunately only one boy, Sam (name changed) had not completed his homework. Sam had very few friends. He was the most rebellious and rudest person of the class; he never cared for other's emotions. His day, as we thought, would not be complete without his making at least one girl or boy cry. Hence, as a victim of his bullies, I hated him to the core, just as all others did.
When Sam was asked to stand, there were short chuckles among us. This was quite enough to infuriate him: we could make out that he was at the height of his anger throughout the hour. When our teacher left, we were busy packing to leave for home. My place in the class was only one seat behind his. So as I was putting my books in my bag, I heard him say to another boy: “What does she think of herself? Did she forget how rich I am? Now, she tops my hit list; Watch out what happens hereafter!”
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The next day, as soon as Miss Solomon came in, another boy rushed to her and said everything that Sam had told him the day before. All of us were dumbfounded, including Sam. Being an Anglo-Indian School, discipline was strictly followed. We thought it was the judgment day for Sam and he was going to be punished and given TC. The class was in hushed silence; Miss Solomon summoned Sam. He went to her hesitantly, shivering from head to toe; she drew him close to her and raised his hung face.
We expected a tight slap and so did he. But to our surprise, Ms. Solomon smiled gently at him! We looked at each other in complete confusion and he stared at her blankly! She smiled again and said in a gentle voice: “Sam, is this the way you behave to someone who cares for you and does things for your own benefit? Will your parents be happy if they come to know of your behaviour? Listen son! We are all children of God; what makes each one of us different is how good or bad we are. What do you think you will be remembered for? Your money? Your car? Your smartness? No son! You will be remembered only for your character and goodness. Some time in future, when any of your classmates thinks of you, they should feel, ‘What a guy!' and not ‘What a wretched ass!' Decide for yourself! God bless you! Now go to your place.”
The class was still in absolute silence; I saw Sam weeping. She started the day's lessons — but none of us listened! We were in an emotional turmoil deeply musing on what we will be remembered for.
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A few days ago, I met one of my classmates. I heard from her that someone who we thought would flunk in his board exams is doing his engineering in a very good college with a good score. The credit for turning a bully into a human being goes to Ms. Solomon! Wonder how many teachers can take such credit!
(The writer's email: droptoyamuna@gmail.com)