A Visit To My School....

Yesterday, I was in Whitefield for some work. As I was passing by my school, I could not help but visit it, as most of my childhood memories are connected to it. It was the time the students were walking out of the school gates at their own pace, eagerly heading for home after a hectic day in school. As I stood on the path I had practiced my running, prodded and encouraged by P.T. Sir, I felt an urge to walk down that path once again.

 Without any effort from my side, my legs were carrying me down the path, as at the same time I started down the memory lane which was connected to every spot in the school premises. This was the place, which looked almost the same even after 30 years. There were changes, but not much.

The school where I studied up to VII std. means a lot to me, because here is where I picked up a lot of confidence, overcame the disability called club foot, learned to express myself in a right way, in addition to finding unconditional love and support from few of my teachers. I cannot recall any negative impact the school has left of me, but luckily it left a lot of positive effects on my life. This was the place where I had first tasted success.

As I walked down the road, I saw two of my teachers (one of them was my class teacher for Std. VI) walking down towards me. Even as I strained my eyes to recognize them, they had recognized me, welcoming me with a warm smile. That was incredibly unbelievable for me. Here I was an ex student of the student of the school, who had left school nearly 30 years ago, who had gained weight, aged, dressed differently, but they could recognize me immediately. Before I reached and greeted them, my heart said, all those Indian movies where people do not recognize their own kids or kith and kin, until they sing a song, see a tattoo, or wear a typical locket is bullshit. Every teacher has nearly 45-55 students in their class, who keep changing every year, yet they could recognize me. Back then I was 13, scrawny thin girl, with two plaits, thick eyebrows and dark complexion (which has lightened up a lot due to my staying indoors after my teen years), nothing like I am today. It warmed my heart.

They remembered my family, and asked about my dad and mom. With a heavy heart I informed them that I had lost my sister, mother and father. One of the teachers also remembered how my sister had guided her to school when she had come to join for her duty. I walked around the premises for sometime; before walking out and coming back from the reverie to my present life.

I can proudly say once again, I am proud of my teachers and my school - St. Joseph’s Convent School, Whitefield. 

Other posts related to my school days:

Who Should Be Punished? Changing the Rules

Discovering the sportsperson in me

Praise slipping out accidently

This was my most favorite spot in the whole world...

The path I ran down training for running competitions

This was another favorite spot where I would sit and read
under the shade of the tree.. 

How often I had climbed those steps to have a direct talk
the H,M. herself... ;)

The part of the school that overlooks a hill...