Out on my front lawns of a sprawling government bungalow, today morning, I saw roses in full bloom and the bottle brush tree laden with enticing reds. It struck me that this is indeed the time for a myriad of colours of roses to blossom. And I recalled I had not seen so many roses together in my little garden for many years. There is a government school about a hundred metres from my house, and a majority of the students use the lane in front of my house to reach the school. There is also a smaller convent school close by.
March is the time when junior schools announce their results with parents and children flocking in colourful dresses. On the way to collect the report cards, some daring children would sneak in the half-open gate of our house and pluck a few roses to gift to their class teachers. It is an unspoken language of gratitude and thanks-giving. All the reprimands and punishments would be forgotten by both the teacher and the pupil. A fortnight later they would do the same when the new session would start with a new class teacher.
That’s where our roses would disappear. I never had the heart to stop the enthusiastic children from making use of my garden to thank their teachers. I remembered my children too doing the same, except that their mother would buy them a bouquet each on March 31.
The coronavirus had shut all schools, and online classes even for five year olds became the norm. The charm of the pranks played on classmates, playful interaction with other students, reprimands from teachers and then a brief vacation after the exams is gone. The students would be quietly moving on to a higher grade without the thrill of it. With a decline in COVID cases and the vaccination drive, students may soon get a chance to reclaim the fun of schooling.
dr_kochhar@hotmail.com
