TEACHER!  The word conjures up a number of nostalgic memories. We are a family of teachers. My father was one. He lectured in the Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore.
Many of his students would come home for help when they had to face an Examination or an interview. He would help them out, but never took a pie from them. ‘They are my students, I have to help them get along in life’, was his motto. His words, ‘A teacher may not have a big bank balance, but he can always boast of ‘abundance of love and respect from the students.’ – This statement reverberates in my mind even today.
I am an ancient person. I graduated in 1960. My results were out in May and from June 1st of that year, I started teaching. Not that I was trained; but I just slotted myself into the place of a ‘substitute teacher’. I was just 20. Even when I knew that all the other teachers in the school were trained, I never felt out of place in the staff room. I learnt by observation and had hands on experience with the students. What touched me most was the students’ attitude towards me. They welcomed me with open arms and I could create a rapport with them instantly.
One day, while I was sitting in the corridor of the school correcting books, an eight year old girl came to me and told me that her teacher told her that she was stupid and an LD. ‘What is an LD, Ma’am?’ she asked. During the sixties, we were not exposed to many of the educational jargon of today. Being a novice myself, I did not know what she was trying to tell me. I told her that I would find out and tell her the next day. I had my own reservations and did not want to ask the teacher who had so labelled her. I had just stepped into the school and the teacher who had called her so was an experienced teacher.
Now, my ‘true’ learning started. LD means Learning Disability. From that day, I turned the pages of many educational books and encyclopedias to find out many of the technical words associated with LD. Dyslexia, Disgraphia, Discalculia, ADD, ADHD.  ‘O God! Teaching is not a bed of roses!’ I became all the more interested in teaching. A few days later, I called the girl who had told me about LD and asked her to sit next to me after lunch and asked her one question. ‘Would you like to write and show me something?
‘Sure Ma’am, I’d love to’, she said.
I gave her a piece of paper and a pencil and told her to write a few lines of what she wanted to write.
‘I want to write a letter to God! she said very innocently.
‘That’s very nice. Do it’, I said.
While I was doing my correction work, I observed her from the corner of my eye. I could see her struggling with the pencil and the paper, trying to write. Yes, she was writing, but it was a struggle.
The bell rang. She gave me the piece of paper and said. ‘Thank you Ma’am’ and went to her class.
I went through what she had written. I reproduce it as it was written:

Deere good,
I Kiel skull but my etchers don’t Kiel me. Why? I vaunt to rite a lot of things, but I Kant. My Brian thinkes fast. But my fingrs do not move. My tcher say I am a stupd LD. I don vont to teel my prantes abut thees. (I like school; but my teachers don’t like me. Why? I want to write a lot of things, but I can’t. My brain thinks fast. But my fingers do not move. My teacher says I am a stupid LD. I dot want to tell my parents about this)
I luv u maam.
Suneela.

I could understand what she wanted to write. There was a lump in my throat. This child who needed help was just labelled as LD and the teachers just did not worry about her innermost feelings! What do I do? It was the year 1960 and I was just an untrained substitute teacher. I would be leaving the school very soon.
I was such a coward that I did not bring this to the notice of anyone in that school. There was a mother superior in the school who was a terror! Even veterans who were in the school for a number of years did not go to talk to her unless they were called. If anyone was called in, it was for a ‘tirade’. No one ever dared to go into that forbidden room.
As the teacher I stood substitute for was to come back the next day, I just said good-bye to a few friends in the staff room and made it a point to meet Suneela, kissed her and said, ‘You are a Lovely Doll. That’s what LD means.’
That was the day I decided to become a teacher. Unfortunately during those years not many people knew anything about LD. We could get materials only in books from the West. It was just theory without practice or training. I read a number of books that I borrowed from the British Library and American Library. But, no school would let me practice what I knew. ‘You are not even a B Ed. You cannot be employed as a regular teacher.’ If I tried to discuss it with some teachers in some schools they would pooh, pooh it saying, ‘we have enough work on hand, don’t you make it more difficult for us with your ideas from the West!
Of course I kept teaching in various schools and later did my B Ed and also M Ed. Whenever a student failed because of bad spellings and grammar, it wrenched my heart. Within my heart and soul I knew that the child was intelligent but was not able to write what she wanted to. I am talking about the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. As we stepped into the 90’s a few eyes opened. Educational authorities realised that there were students who had problems with learning. I have gone through a number of years of teaching and am now a seasoned person who has retired from hectic teaching schedules. Now, as many schools and educators are aware of Learning Disabilities and how to deal with them, many schools do have remedial centres and other special schools where these children are helped.
But Alas! I still cannot forget my Suneela who made me a teacher. A teacher I am even now. Not just a teacher. At the core of my heart I am a real compassionate one and it is little Suneela who made me so. Her bright eyes but sullen face sometimes haunts me at nights.
I am glad that now I have taken up serious work with LD students. I even worked to become an LD ‘Guide’ by taking up a course under the guidance of an expert and got a certificate. I would not like to expand the acronym LD as Learning Disability. I would rather call it Learning Differences.