Splash Water On His Head

"You're such a badass, my sunflower."

...

"The growth of world population is another factor distorting the future of our children. Development is not possible if population increases. The writer says that fertility falls as incomes rise and health improves. Thus, development is the best contraceptive," I tell my students.

The classroom is wide enough that my voice can reach till the back of the class. Along each row, small wooden desks with attached chairs are placed. Many of the desks are etched with scribbles of bored and inattentive students. The windows cast squares of white upon the wall.

I hear the students from an adjacent classroom forming a line outside, perhaps for their games period. My students, especially the boys have their eyes glued outside the classroom, longing for a chance to go out. I hear someone at the back of the room, tapping the ruler on the desk, absentmindedly. I glare at him and he stops his annoying tapping.

All the students seated in the front are busy making notes of what I'm saying but it's the backbenchers who are distracted. One of my students maintains eye contact with me and occasionally nods at me to let me know she's paying attention but I know she isn't. She must be busy daydreaming. I can tell that because I used to do the same when I was a student. Then there's my favourite student, Ryan, who doesn't even bother to hide the fact that he's sleepy. He yawns and then places his head on the table, dozing off. He has always been the one to create scenes in the class. If I was a student, I would have loved his shenanigans but since I'm not, it's hard to pretend to be angry at him when he brightens up everyone's day with his antics.

I let him sleep for a while. I'll disturb his slumber afterwards.

"Okay children, you can close your books now. We're going to do something else." They don't need me to say anything else and everybody is already shutting their books and have kept them in their bags. I guess, children really hate studying. I shake my head at them.

"So I've been wanting to do this for a while now. I want you all to come to the front of the class and speak. You can share anything. You can speak about whatever you want to, narrate a poem you might have written or you can even talk about your feelings. I just want to provide a safe place for you all. I'll be grading you all on it. All those who take part will score full but those who don't, won't be graded at all. So all you have to do is participate."

Trisha raises her hand. I nod at her to let her know she can continue. "May I go first?"

She usually stays quiet in the class and doesn't answer unless she's spoken to. So, when she raises her hand, I'm surprised.

"Yes. I was going to let everyone prepare for five minutes but you can go first if that's what you want." I smile at her.

I go and stand at the back, next to Ryan's seat. I chose to ignore him and the students' curious eyes. I shake my head at Ryan's partner who is about to wake him up. He halts his movement.

I direct my attention to Trisha who is visibly nervous. She's shifting her weight from one foot to another and is holding a piece of paper so tightly that it might tear up any second. I give her a thumbs up hoping that might stop her from feeling jittery.

"I want to read something that I found at my house a few days ago. Umm... my mother left me when I was ten years old. She never gave me an explanation. This is a poem she wrote. I just want to read this aloud so that I can move on and forgive her. Is that okay?" She looks at me for permission.

"Of course, sweetie."

She takes a long breath and starts reading.

"I opened the door

and stumbled across the old memories

But I ran and ran,

away from my problems,

away from the people who betrayed me,

away from the bits and pieces of my broken heart."

Her voice breaks. I hand her my water bottle and pat her hair. She gulps down a mouthful of water.

"You can stop if you want to. You don't have to continue," I tell her.

"No, it's okay." She smiles at me. I admire her strength and I feel fortunate that I get to teach her.

"Ran past the old me to the future me,

away from the expectations which were never fulfilled,

away from the wild thoughts that made me insane,

I ran and ran

until I reached the exit

and then,

I collapsed."

She folds her paper, curls it into a ball and dumps it in the dustbin.

"I'm so proud of you, girl." I smile widely at her. The entire class, except Ryan claps for her.

On her way to her seat, a lot of students praise her and fist-bump her. I take out a chocolate from my bag and give it to her.

"For being the first one to speak up." I touch her shoulder. She thanks me.

After her, many of my students express themselves. We get to see a stand-up act and listen to many rants, poems, essays written by my dear students.

I promise them that I'll give all of them chocolates tomorrow. The period is about to get over so I decide to wake up Ryan.

"Ryan," I shout. He doesn't even stir.

I shake him up but he doesn't budge. How do people sleep deeply? I've always been a light sleeper.

I shake him again.

"Get the hell away from me bro," he mutters but keeps his eyes shut. I sigh.

"Splash water on his head," I tell Amit, his partner. He looks at me wide-eyed but opens his water bottle and shakily, pours water on Ryan's head. Water drops on his shoulder, spoiling his shirt as well.

"Ahh!!!" Ryan moves and his arm hits Amit causing him to spill water on their desk.

I give him a look of disapproval.

"You're staying back after school today."

He pouts.