Celebrating teachers, our OG influencers, through the years

Any resemblance to teachers you might know is purely coincidental and predictable!

Picture this: You pack up your books for the day, strip yourself of the necktie, slip into a loud shirt and head down to the local pub to play the guitar onstage when some older kids walk up and say, “Hi Sir!” with a knowing wink. There are few professions that are “always on” like good WiFi — one is the doctor and the other the teacher. It’s a profession you can’t escape but we have designated just one day in a year to celebrate it — the birthday of Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, philosopher, scholar, politician, President of India, Vice Chancellor of two Universities and Bharat Ratna. His students had requested to celebrate his birthday but he instituted Teachers’ Day instead, to acknowledge the invaluable contribution of teachers to society.

To be fair, I hadn’t really heard of Dr Radhakrishnan before becoming a teacher in the last millennium. Once I decided to teach, I got to see his half-smile on a large photograph in my B. Ed classroom and could almost sense the knowing wink — you don’t know what you’re in for, young man!

Of course, I do. It’s for my pen collection. For many teachers, September 5 is a day when the pen collection swells. For obscure reasons, kids come up with pens of many types and hand them over with an enthusiastic “Happy Teachers’ Day!”. My suspicion that kids relate corrections to teachers was confirmed when a few of those pens turned out to be red.

In my early days of teaching there were no restrictions on gifting and so, for some in the profession, it was like Christmas. For others too, it was like Christmas — they sent in their Santa’s wish list a little earlier with subtle comments like “I could really use this…” It then became a free-for-all among parents hoping to curry favour. Most of us were glad when over-the-counter gifting was declared illegal.

What teachers really appreciated was the handmade personalised cards that were then the only permitted currency! I recall a group of kids outside the staffroom frantically putting teachers’ names onto prefabricated cards whenever they glimpsed them — personal enough. And then social media took over with templates and GIFs that could be sent to all the teachers in one fell swoop. Till date I get a few dozen WhatsApps with identical creatives and messages — it’s the thought that counts. Paid space in specially curated sections of the newspaper ensures that personal messages are published for all to see and for the newspaper to sell a few additional copies!

My first recollection of participating as a student in Teachers’ Day celebrations was when my enthusiastic class teacher decided that we all had talents and needed to display them. He called it Parents’ Day, in deference to the common knowledge that parents are a child’s first teachers anyway — they were all invited. I was given the knocking-knees task of singing To Sir, with Love on stage — solo, no karaoke to help me through. As a young, teenage boy, I struggled through the lines about “those schoolgirl days … crayons to perfume” and withstood the sniggers from the back benchers. But it stayed with me as every September 5, as teachers, we were entertained in our classrooms by amazing shows of talent. I recall karate exhibitions where tiles and wooden boards were broken — desks were regularly broken on other days; tabla recitals which left us spellbound — desks stood in for tablas on other days; and magic shows where things disappeared and reappeared — things disappeared from desks too, but never reappeared. Food was brought from home and that too disappeared as soon as containers were opened. The unavoidable classroom one-act play was literally one-act, the same one every year. It allowed the students to impersonate the teachers (lovingly, I’m told) with all their quaint characteristic phrases and mannerisms, raising nervous laughs from the watching educators. I believe it was during these shows that the truth was out — true feedback disguised in jest. Classrooms were tastefully decorated with low cost or recycled materials brought from home. I believe it gave a large number of children the opportunity to exercise responsibility, creativity and skills that are generally lost in larger groups. But all that changed — and much before Covid, which is usually blamed for everything.

While the class teachers got to be feted and entertained in their own classrooms, many of those who taught in multiple classes could not visit each room resulting in disappointment on both sides. So, it became more like the Three Musketeers — All for One and One for All. Carefully selected and curated stage shows took the place of raw talent, making it the exclusive domain of the gifted or favoured. The yet-to-be-gifted students never got to sing To Sir With Love, nor display their mom’s culinary prowess, and decor was contracted out to the school’s vendor! And it continues, in most schools, to this day.

These shows are held for a brief part of the morning in the assembly hall or auditorium. Teachers run the gauntlet of school captains and other dignitaries lining the avenue they walk through while nodding their appreciation on both sides, waving and smiling broadly. A single buttonhole rose pinned on at the entrance and a tilak on the forehead, completes the picture. The show begins, usually with an introductory speech by a senior or the principal, followed by the selected few whose performances stand in for the rest of the unsung talent, now relegated to clapping rhythmically after each item. The short programme ends with pre-written speeches of gratitude expressed from the heart — as we didn’t have ChatGPT back then! This might be followed by a Teachers’ Lunch, managed by a trusted caterer, ensuring that the diners are not exposed to multiple cuisines. Bygone days! The private evenings, with teachers grouped around aptly named Scottish liquids, continue to this day.

My memories would be incomplete if I did not mention one major change in the way we celebrated Teachers’ Day. We used to have a section of employees who were known as “non-teaching staff” — the office staff, the malis, the peons, the darwans. Enlightenment dawned and one Teachers’ Day they were brought to the fore and it was explained that they were now redesignated as the “support staff” as they too teach. In multiple ways as an extension of their work. This piece would be too long to explain the several touch points at which these people teach our kids, but it’s something to think about. They were feted and gifted along with the classroom teachers that day, and hopefully every Teachers’ Day thereafter.

Of course, for every student there will be that one teacher who made a huge difference in their lives. And the debate will rage on. Should it be Teachers’ Day or Teacher’s Day — all for one or one for all?

The author is a Goan living in Kolkata and a learning and development consultant who plays music, writes blogs and teaches whenever he can.