Monday, February 25, 2013

Always Tuned In To Preacherwave

Today was supposed to be a very difficult day. And, as expected, it wasn't easy. The institution people made me teach in the ex-Preacherwave room for a short while due to the unavailability of my usual classroom, and it almost brought tears.
But I had waken up to a text from the Preacherman, asking me the usual "Buri, ekta gaan shunbi?".
And I knew that it would be okay. He was at the airport, past immigration, yet he was preaching his music to me, just like he always did. It was all good. For now, no change. The rest I'll deal with slowly. Baby steps.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Because You Teach, Preach and Reach.

There comes a time when people just have to part ways, turn around and walk in a different direction. And this, I mean literally. Despite always having known this, it is inexplicably heartbreaking to part ways with the Preacherman - a philosopher, a mentor, an idol in whose hands I could lay my life down without hesitation, completely trusting him with it. Of course, this is no final goodbye, because, it's a small world after all (and God bless technology). But, to be oceans apart, to know that I will no longer have to spend (tolerate) at least six hours of him every week, to accept that I will not be seeing that lovable, bearded face and those animated eyebrows raised at me, claiming homework - Now how is that easy in any way?
And, every time I let my thoughts flow freely in this direction, it always had the same affect, I still cannot get past the throbbing in my head and the blurred vision.

But I know that he just has to go to the other side of the world, pick up the new building blocks and design for himself the next stage of his life full of hard work, success and happiness. And with the amount of faith I have in this man, I know that he will try his best to retain as much of his current life as possible. And that includes us.
I also know that I will never be able to accept any other Physics or Chemistry teacher. Ever. It will always be him, no matter who I'm officially taking lessons from. I will always be a student of the Preacherman. This man not only taught me science, but also life. And how can anyone else ever beat that?

The least we could do for the person who has given us so very much was to bid him a cherishable (and hopefully temporary) farewell, letting him know that he is loved beyond measure. And the most we could do in such a limited amount of time was, well, not as much as we would have liked to. But it was worth everything, though it included some of us working our asses off.

It was a beautiful evening. A large crowd of people, thirty-seven of his eleventh-graders and one very helpful, involved tenth-grader, gathered to make the occasion truly memorable for him. Suddenly, it didn't matter which school you went to, which friend circle you belonged in, what kind of student you were, how long you had been around, how different (or how uncomfortably similar) you were to whomever - People were brought together by that one thing in common: A wish to make it special for the beloved Preacherman. Of course, everyone's degree of urgency was nowhere near equal, but its mere existence within each individual was enough.

And, as we gave him things to remember us by and reasons not to leave, he shed tears out of sentiments I cannot even explain. But we knew that he knew. He knew that he was going to be permanent part of us. And, in that infinite moment, it was enough. But, then again, almost.




Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Reaching Out

Throughout the years, I have been close to quite a few of my teachers, but I had never imagined such a level of propinquity. The Preacherman takes this to a whole new level. In times of severe distress and/or stupefaction, when nobody else seems to make much sense, or some people just keep telling me things I don't want to hear while others choose to say nothing at all, it is this Preacherman I resort to, for help and advice. He never tells me what and what not to do, but simply asks me questions that lead me to where I should be headed. Initially, his direct questions infuriate me and I begin to feel that I have made a mistake by talking to him about things. But then the answers are right there, flowing from my own mind, and I'm thinking in the right direction once again. At the end of the day, when my troubles are under control and I've figured out what I have to do for the moment, I take some time to thank him.
And, to that, he always says, "These are the intrinsic rewards of teaching. The tuition fees, the classes and the notes may all be materialistic, but it feels priceless to reach out to someone at a completely personal level."

I probably never understood completely the degree of truth behind those words before. But when a student of my own fidgets during class, waiting for a chance to speak to me, and approaches me right after the lesson to share with me some of the hurdles she has been facing in life - it really starts to make sense. When she pours her heart out, listens intently to what I have to say to it and claims that she feels a lot better after speaking to me, I feel truly blessed. And I fully understand the meaning of the words the Preacherman tells me every time I show my gratitude towards him. I can finally comprehend the sheer magnitude of it. It all falls into place and I feel unquestionably rewarded.