<p>Many of us in the ‘academic’ medical world often sense the undue pressure of the need for continuing superlative performance, demonstration of proficiency, peer pressure, frequent and stringent appraisals, and assessment metrics that are often flawed.</p>.<p>Especially with the advent of social media, self-proclamations and self-praise, both covert and overt, have now become a pervasive norm. A picture that I stumbled upon recently took me back to another world. A world of <span class="italic">namma</span> Bengaluru in the late 90s, of my three precious high school years, which changed me in more ways than I realised. It was a picture with many of my school teachers, taken when they had perhaps gathered in the school recently for an event and brought with it a sense of intense nostalgia. I could recognise most of them in the picture and felt a closeness though I haven’t been in touch with any of them.</p>.<p>Facebook and WhatsApp, which now seem as vital to our lives as our hearts, were non-existent, then. We had no social media groups to help us stay in touch long after we graduated. Words like groups, likes, dislikes, forwards, and shares had different connotations. Unlike today, where CBSE, ICSE and international curricula are much sought after, the state syllabus was good enough. Bragging maximum ranks in the SSLC exam every year made our principal’s heart swell with pride! </p>.<p>Now, when my students wish me on Teachers’ Day, I long to meet mine, to wish them the same. I tried to look for them. But Internet searches, in my teachers’ names and my school’s name, were futile. A generation before us are not on the virtual world even though they are still with us. So when I saw their picture, I was overwhelmed. To most of the world they are unknown. But to many of us, they had made a world of difference in our crucial growing up years.</p>.<p>Their passion for work, selflessness, simplicity and humility were exceptional and unmatched. Our wise, old principal, the founder, had nurtured the institute like his own child. A far cry from today’s ‘international schools’ with their grandiose buildings, and boastful advertisements.</p>.<p>I wonder how many of today’s children will be blessed with the genuine warmth, infectious zeal, and profound values of the teachers that we had. They were in a league of their own, a cut above the rest. The indelible mark they have left on thousands of students is priceless. </p>.<p>Their obscurity only compounds our eternal sense of indebtedness and keeps our admiration and humility alive!</p>
<p>Many of us in the ‘academic’ medical world often sense the undue pressure of the need for continuing superlative performance, demonstration of proficiency, peer pressure, frequent and stringent appraisals, and assessment metrics that are often flawed.</p>.<p>Especially with the advent of social media, self-proclamations and self-praise, both covert and overt, have now become a pervasive norm. A picture that I stumbled upon recently took me back to another world. A world of <span class="italic">namma</span> Bengaluru in the late 90s, of my three precious high school years, which changed me in more ways than I realised. It was a picture with many of my school teachers, taken when they had perhaps gathered in the school recently for an event and brought with it a sense of intense nostalgia. I could recognise most of them in the picture and felt a closeness though I haven’t been in touch with any of them.</p>.<p>Facebook and WhatsApp, which now seem as vital to our lives as our hearts, were non-existent, then. We had no social media groups to help us stay in touch long after we graduated. Words like groups, likes, dislikes, forwards, and shares had different connotations. Unlike today, where CBSE, ICSE and international curricula are much sought after, the state syllabus was good enough. Bragging maximum ranks in the SSLC exam every year made our principal’s heart swell with pride! </p>.<p>Now, when my students wish me on Teachers’ Day, I long to meet mine, to wish them the same. I tried to look for them. But Internet searches, in my teachers’ names and my school’s name, were futile. A generation before us are not on the virtual world even though they are still with us. So when I saw their picture, I was overwhelmed. To most of the world they are unknown. But to many of us, they had made a world of difference in our crucial growing up years.</p>.<p>Their passion for work, selflessness, simplicity and humility were exceptional and unmatched. Our wise, old principal, the founder, had nurtured the institute like his own child. A far cry from today’s ‘international schools’ with their grandiose buildings, and boastful advertisements.</p>.<p>I wonder how many of today’s children will be blessed with the genuine warmth, infectious zeal, and profound values of the teachers that we had. They were in a league of their own, a cut above the rest. The indelible mark they have left on thousands of students is priceless. </p>.<p>Their obscurity only compounds our eternal sense of indebtedness and keeps our admiration and humility alive!</p>