Image by Piyapong Saydaung from Pixabay 

Jim Rohn says,

"One of the greatest gifts you can ever give to anyone is attention."

And attention is the purest and rarest form of generosity. I would like to thank you all if you be generous and gift me your attention. I guess I have it now!!!!

This is the story of a Marathi medium girl who by fate got an opportunity to study in an English medium school. 15th June, she went to school for the first time holding her father's hand, rather clenching it as tight as possible, being all nervous and looking with her doe eyes at new students, new school, and new classy atmosphere that she never experienced in her previous school. Her father explained her background to her class teacher and left her in the class. That day during class assembly, every student was busy chanting prayers and she looked at all of them like a child lost in the fare. It was all new for her. At the very moment, a hand was placed on her eyes, giving her assurance, comfort, and asking those eyes to be closed. On the very first day of her school, the girl found her comfort, her safe place in her class teacher amidst those strangers.

The teacher did every possible effort to improve the girl. She made one of the smartest kids sit next to her. But, unfortunately, it did not work out. The girl was made to feel inferior by the smart kids of the class. One day in absence of the kids she somehow built the guts inside her and spoke to the teacher about the situation. Well, she didn't say it rather she literally whinnied it out just the way the third standard kid would do. At very instinct, the teacher hugged her and patted her head. The warmth in that hug meant everything to that little child's small world. And guess what?? The next day the seatmates were changed. At the end of the year, the girl could speak English just the way her third-standard colleagues could do. All due to her class teacher's efforts.

The year came to an end. It was her final exam. She asked the teacher for her photo. And as promised, the teacher gave her photo to the kid. She kept that photo in the box where she kept the only medal she had ever received. A few months passed, the girl got promoted to fourth. She met a few teachers and still, her favourite teacher was her third standard class teacher. Days went on, months went on, years went on. It was the girl's farewell function. The function went all good. After the function, the girl went to her third standard class teacher and all she said was, "Mam, I know every teacher here. Most of them have taught me. But, you are still the teacher. And I know most of the students here. A few of them are my friends. But, I will miss you the most." She again didn't say it she whinned it just the way she did it when she was in the third standard. And just like 7-8 years before, the teacher hugged her tightly and patted her head. Even after those 7-8 years, she felt the same warmth and comfort in the hug. The teacher was still in the same safe place.

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay 

The girl got promoted to college met a few more teachers but still, the third standard teacher was her favourite teacher. Ice she got an opportunity to write an article about something that fascinates her. She thought about a few topics and still chose to write about the best teacher that she ever met. You guessed it absolutely right. It was her third standard class teacher. By name Mrs. Anuja Gosavi ma'am. If you are wondering about the photo, the photo is still kept in the medal box. The number of medals has increased now but the photo is still on top. I am not good at penning, but that's what I want to say to her.

To search me in dark,

To lead me to light.
In the world that's partial,
To teach me to fight.

To show a dream,
To help me attain.
And when I went down,
To pick me up again.

To show your trust,
To work on me.
When they criticised,
To show me your glee.

To be the one,
To build the future.
Left with no words,
For thanking to nurture.

Working on dreams,
I wait for the day.
When I was your student,
Proudly you say.

Everything fades away,
You are all above.

This poem is to you mam, From a student, with love.
Since childhood, I have listened people say that a mother is the first teacher of a child. She was the one who made me realize that a teacher can truly be the second mother of a child. And maybe that's the only reason which makes her, 'THE TEACHER I REMEMBER'.

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