Learning and laughter

‘The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.’ Every 5th of September, many of us in the teaching profession receive high praise in the form of this meaningful message by William Arthur Ward. Another popular quotation that goes around this time of the year is Alexandra Trenfor’s perceptive observation: ‘The best teachers are those who show you where to look but do not tell you what to see.’

As a long-serving teacher, I emphatically endorse these sublime sentiments, for they are as profound as they are poetic. The ideal educator is not an illusory icon that exists only in a student’s wistful imagination. At school in Delhi, my brother and I had the privilege of being tutored by excellent, even exceptional, teachers. They not only enabled us to develop our academic potential but also encouraged us to discover our extracurricular talents.

Apart from imparting knowledge and wisdom, our teachers were repositories of patience and kindness. Besides, they possessed that admirable attribute — a cheerful disposition. The few peevish members of the faculty were outnumbered by our merry mentors, who related amusing anecdotes and smiled indulgently at our jokes and pranks. Consequently, although the instruction back then was governed by the ‘chalk and talk’ method, which is now deeply deplored, it was an enlightening and enjoyable experience.

While infusing our scholastic sessions with warmth and congeniality, our teachers enthusiastically entertained us outside school as well. Our excursions to places of interest, such as Agra, Gwalior, Dehradun, Mussoorie, Haridwar and Rishikesh, were marked by singing as well as sightseeing. During the journeys between one stop and the next, we would urge our teachers to regale us with the Hindi-movie hits of the day.

In October, 1969, on a trip to Nainital, we asked our chemistry teacher for a ‘Rajesh Khanna song’. He was ready to oblige but pointed out that the song wo­uld actually be a ‘Kishore Kumar song’, since the actor had a playback singer. For us girls on the bus, however, it was the superstar we idolised, rather than the melodious voice behind him, who embodied the lilting lyrics of ‘Aradhana’.

‘Roop tera mastana/ Pyaar mera deewana,’ intoned Mathur soulfully, sailing through the first verse with unerring ease. A moment later, he stumbled over the words, and my friends and I were quick to prompt him. We were listening in solemn silence when I was suddenly overcome by a fit of giggles. As I chortled uncontrollably, I was afraid that I had upset our favourite teacher. I need not have worried. The soloist sportingly stopped mid-stanza and joined me with loud guffaws.

A sense of humour should find mention in tributes to teachers on Teachers’ Day. Recalling my schooldays, decades after, I cherish the learning laced with laughter!