Ode To My Teachers

Ode To My Teachers ode

I had joined the school when I was in Prep

My feet were still small to take a bold step

But the daily morning Assemblies gave me confidence and happiness in tons,

For it was well steered by the most admirable headmistress Mrs. Broughton

I learnt my lessons of curtsies from her,

Later on lessons of discipline were added on by our Principal Sir,

I never found anything mundane about the morning prayers,

For I loved to see the sight of Mr. Mayers,

Standing tall and dignified,

He would daily address us

And admonish gently but sternly those who missed the bus,

If he saw a class without a teacher,

He would readily don the garb of a preacher,

Picking up any subject book,

To the lessons he will have us hook,

Our dread would convert into happiness,

And no longer we would wait for the recess.

But frankly speaking I feared the Headmaster,

His gait used to become faster,

When he spotted someone up to mischief,

His voice thundered and he looked more like a Police Chief,

I wondered then about his personal life,

Was he like this to his sweet wife?

For she was diametrically opposite to him.

When she spoke her voice sounded like a soothing hymn,

For Mrs. Kennedy was mother like figure to all of us,

If Mr. Kennedy would be stern she was all there loving and making a fuss,

Till one day I happened to see the softer side of my Headmaster,

I saw him sharing with his wife probably a joke and heard his laughter,

Though I continued to be by him intimidated,

I found him less heavy weighted

Though an English medium school,

It was one of its kind to make a rule,

To give primacy to hindi too,

When dear Mrs. Millicans taught me this subject,

I stood tall and erect,

Receiving my award

that made my parents proud

Classroom seating can play havoc,

That is how I felt when I was in the second grade,

Perched between two boys who always took the pleasure to mock,

When I solved Maths at snail pace,

Left no stone to degrade,

And to leave me with a crying face,

But Mrs. Nanda seemed to understand,

I saw her helping hand,

When she made the two pranksters see the Star chart,

Which I had topped,

That day their mocking stopped,

When my teacher relieved me of the stress,

Though thankful to her I could not express

Now friends I will like to reveal,

A memorable episode,

There was a girl tall for grade three,

Who would not leave the habit of sucking her thumb,

Mrs. Mayers our class teacher then did goad.

Her to get rid of a habit so annoying,

Till one day Ma’am brought to the class a thing,

That left us amazed ,

While we were left to wonder !!!!

Mrs. Mayers looked unfazed,

She walked yonder ,

Where our tall classmate was asked to stand,

She was asked to stretch out her hand,

And lo there she placed the pacifiers used by toddlers

She asked her to place it in her mouth,

You know ????this girl from South,

Discarded the habit of hers,

Such ingenious makeover,

I can narrate over and over!!!,

Fourth grade was like thorns laid on the ground,

For I shuddered like everyone else when we heard her sound,

Curly peppery white hair,

She would prefer to stand rather than sit on a chair,

Her eyes looked menacing,

That we would forget the lines we had to sing,

She was a teacher who would not fuss,

By the way do you all remember this teacher by the name of Mrs. Wallace????

I remember for the first time I chose,

To lie to my mother about a stomach ache

By Jove I realized how well I faked ,

That gave birth to my passion ,

Of drama and theatre,

Yes that reminds me of this play that caused a lot of stir,

Luckily I bagged a role too,

Mrs. Wallace was our director,

Her voice used to thunder,

Enough to make us shudder

When she saw us lazying or on a loiter,

Many years on a foggy wintry morning I saw a person walking with steps so slow,

She was cowering and her head was kept low,

On one hand she had held her walking stick,

She looked visibly sick

As I came near ,

It all became clear,

Filled I was with those hateful memories,

My mind began to freeze,

Time seemed to stand still,

As I went on a flashback,

What a cruel joke age had played ,

Though this Mrs. Wallace I no longer feared,

I could not help giving her a helping hand,

For how could I forget that once upon a time she had led us,

Never mind if she did not make a fuss,

For that day I saw her in all tenderness,

My heart melted when she addressed me as “my dear”

that removed all my fears,

Even as from my eyes slowly trickled tears

So friends lest your eyes start to pain

I end my Junior school saga,

But I will come with a bang,

To tell you tales of how we got a holiday when it used to rain,

Or how hopelessly we all sang,

“happy Budday ” for our Founder Mr. Anthony,

At the end of the day that’s what makes me a proud Alumni of school named Frank Anthony!!!!!

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Shobha Sundharam

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Like to write.....poems, short plays, screenplay.wish to make a film with a good script written by me and would like to have Big B on board...just a dream
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