<p>Most of us realise, late in life, that there was this one teacher in school or college that had a profound influence in shaping our personality. To me and to most of us in my school, that teacher was Bahadur Sheshagiri Rao, our national award-winning headmaster at Municipal High School, Bellary, in the early 1970s. Old-timers of Bellary will vouch for that.</p>.<p>Apparently, when he joined the school, like many other government schools, its reputation was at its nadir, being called a doddi school. But by the time I joined it, Bahadur was already well known as a strict disciplinarian and had made the school the first choice for parents and students.</p>.<p><strong>All round development</strong></p>.<p>Bahadur encouraged all students to achieve more. He had chosen ten of the brightest students and arranged additional coaching for them from the best teacher in each subject. I still remember how we had to religiously study a new word-a-day, use it in different sentences, and share the new word with others. We were also given extra books from the library to read beyond the syllabus. He wanted to see these students achieve a district or state-level rank. I now wonder how he was able to motivate government teachers to conduct additional classes at their homes on weekends without <br />compensation.</p>.<p>He also identified academically weak students and arranged for ‘tutorials’ during evenings by the best of teachers. This helped improve overall results and the school’s reputation.</p>.<p>While such was his focus on academics, there was plenty we learnt in extra-curricular activities, too. Mondays were for essay writing, Tuesdays and Thursdays for NCC, Wednesdays for debates. Friday was reserved for light activities like magic shows, mimicry and acting. Saturdays were for drill. It is only much later in life that we realised how far these things have laid the foundations of our personalities.</p>.<p><strong>Annual Day</strong></p>.<p>The annual school day planning and preparation turned out to be a lesson in coordination and operations. Our school had a large field, probably a few acres, where the stage would be set up. The walk to the stage from the classroom was a good five minutes. To accommodate the huge crowd (a good part of Bellary used to attend the event), we had to carry our benches from class to the field on the morning of the annual day. Two from the bench to carry it out and the other two to carry it back in. And the whole exercise started from the first classroom near the main door, going anticlockwise round the school. And within the classroom, we knew the order in which to take the benches out. There was no confusion and no chaos whatever while moving nearly 400 benches. After the function, we would follow the exact reverse order and each bench would be back in its place.</p>.<p>The function itself was planned meticulously. The list of prize-winners was known in advance and the order in which they would be called was known. The prize was always in the form of books – dictionaries, mythologies, Shakespeare’s works, English essays and so on. The name of the student and the reason for the prize was written on a label and pasted to the inside cover of the book. I don’t know a single case where a student’s prize got interchanged with another. The teachers in charge of prizes worked that closely, under Bahadur’s leadership.</p>.<p>Bahadur always selected a student to read the annual report of the school. He would make the student rehearse it a number of times, correct every pronunciation and every pause until he was satisfied. Even the chief guest for the function was always an old student who rose to a high position. This was a matter of great motivation for us and we would dream that one day even we could rise high in society.</p>.<p><strong>Booming Voice</strong></p>.<p>He used technology effectively, however primitive it may look from today’s perspective. We had loud speakers and microphones in every classroom. The headmaster could ‘switch’ to any room and ‘listen’ from his chamber. We would suddenly hear his booming voice, ‘Hey Vedavyasa, what mischief are you up to now?’ Then, there would be a deathly silence in class. This would usually be followed by summons to his chamber, and a couple of juicy ones on the knuckles. A small sermon would follow about the school’s expectations, duty to nation and duty to parents.</p>.<p> We loved our headmaster. He was impartial and always very encouraging. Good deeds were appreciated, bad ones punished. But never did he judge or label a student. When he berated them, it was for their good; when he praised them, it was to encourage them. And he lived what he preached.</p>.<p><strong>Always our ‘Sir’</strong></p>.<p>After high school, I left Bellary. I went back for a visit with family after some 35 years. It was gratifying to see my old headmaster, the man who had shaped generations of students, their attitudes and values. He was old and frail, but his words and thoughts were as sharp as ever. Hesitatingly, I expressed my desire to present him a purse of not insignificant money, as a mark of my respect for him. He flatly refused, saying he has never and will never take money from students. He recommended that I donate it to a needy school of his choice, in a small place near Sringeri. Later, when I went and donated the money to the school, I had an indescribable feeling of satisfaction.</p>.<p> I hope every student is lucky enough to have a Bahadur Sir in one’s life during the formative years. When Bahadur passed away a couple of years ago, aged 94, the whole town of Bellary shed a tear for its ‘Sir’. Schools were closed and shops were shut as a mark of respect.</p>.<p> I am sure there are many Bahadurs in many schools doing the commendable job of raising civilised citizens. On behalf of all students, on the occasion of Teachers’ Day, here is a respectful love-filled salute to all teachers.</p>.<p><em>(The writer is a Visiting Professor at PES University)</em></p>
<p>Most of us realise, late in life, that there was this one teacher in school or college that had a profound influence in shaping our personality. To me and to most of us in my school, that teacher was Bahadur Sheshagiri Rao, our national award-winning headmaster at Municipal High School, Bellary, in the early 1970s. Old-timers of Bellary will vouch for that.</p>.<p>Apparently, when he joined the school, like many other government schools, its reputation was at its nadir, being called a doddi school. But by the time I joined it, Bahadur was already well known as a strict disciplinarian and had made the school the first choice for parents and students.</p>.<p><strong>All round development</strong></p>.<p>Bahadur encouraged all students to achieve more. He had chosen ten of the brightest students and arranged additional coaching for them from the best teacher in each subject. I still remember how we had to religiously study a new word-a-day, use it in different sentences, and share the new word with others. We were also given extra books from the library to read beyond the syllabus. He wanted to see these students achieve a district or state-level rank. I now wonder how he was able to motivate government teachers to conduct additional classes at their homes on weekends without <br />compensation.</p>.<p>He also identified academically weak students and arranged for ‘tutorials’ during evenings by the best of teachers. This helped improve overall results and the school’s reputation.</p>.<p>While such was his focus on academics, there was plenty we learnt in extra-curricular activities, too. Mondays were for essay writing, Tuesdays and Thursdays for NCC, Wednesdays for debates. Friday was reserved for light activities like magic shows, mimicry and acting. Saturdays were for drill. It is only much later in life that we realised how far these things have laid the foundations of our personalities.</p>.<p><strong>Annual Day</strong></p>.<p>The annual school day planning and preparation turned out to be a lesson in coordination and operations. Our school had a large field, probably a few acres, where the stage would be set up. The walk to the stage from the classroom was a good five minutes. To accommodate the huge crowd (a good part of Bellary used to attend the event), we had to carry our benches from class to the field on the morning of the annual day. Two from the bench to carry it out and the other two to carry it back in. And the whole exercise started from the first classroom near the main door, going anticlockwise round the school. And within the classroom, we knew the order in which to take the benches out. There was no confusion and no chaos whatever while moving nearly 400 benches. After the function, we would follow the exact reverse order and each bench would be back in its place.</p>.<p>The function itself was planned meticulously. The list of prize-winners was known in advance and the order in which they would be called was known. The prize was always in the form of books – dictionaries, mythologies, Shakespeare’s works, English essays and so on. The name of the student and the reason for the prize was written on a label and pasted to the inside cover of the book. I don’t know a single case where a student’s prize got interchanged with another. The teachers in charge of prizes worked that closely, under Bahadur’s leadership.</p>.<p>Bahadur always selected a student to read the annual report of the school. He would make the student rehearse it a number of times, correct every pronunciation and every pause until he was satisfied. Even the chief guest for the function was always an old student who rose to a high position. This was a matter of great motivation for us and we would dream that one day even we could rise high in society.</p>.<p><strong>Booming Voice</strong></p>.<p>He used technology effectively, however primitive it may look from today’s perspective. We had loud speakers and microphones in every classroom. The headmaster could ‘switch’ to any room and ‘listen’ from his chamber. We would suddenly hear his booming voice, ‘Hey Vedavyasa, what mischief are you up to now?’ Then, there would be a deathly silence in class. This would usually be followed by summons to his chamber, and a couple of juicy ones on the knuckles. A small sermon would follow about the school’s expectations, duty to nation and duty to parents.</p>.<p> We loved our headmaster. He was impartial and always very encouraging. Good deeds were appreciated, bad ones punished. But never did he judge or label a student. When he berated them, it was for their good; when he praised them, it was to encourage them. And he lived what he preached.</p>.<p><strong>Always our ‘Sir’</strong></p>.<p>After high school, I left Bellary. I went back for a visit with family after some 35 years. It was gratifying to see my old headmaster, the man who had shaped generations of students, their attitudes and values. He was old and frail, but his words and thoughts were as sharp as ever. Hesitatingly, I expressed my desire to present him a purse of not insignificant money, as a mark of my respect for him. He flatly refused, saying he has never and will never take money from students. He recommended that I donate it to a needy school of his choice, in a small place near Sringeri. Later, when I went and donated the money to the school, I had an indescribable feeling of satisfaction.</p>.<p> I hope every student is lucky enough to have a Bahadur Sir in one’s life during the formative years. When Bahadur passed away a couple of years ago, aged 94, the whole town of Bellary shed a tear for its ‘Sir’. Schools were closed and shops were shut as a mark of respect.</p>.<p> I am sure there are many Bahadurs in many schools doing the commendable job of raising civilised citizens. On behalf of all students, on the occasion of Teachers’ Day, here is a respectful love-filled salute to all teachers.</p>.<p><em>(The writer is a Visiting Professor at PES University)</em></p>