-: The Last PTM:-

-: The Last PTM:-

I lost my control and as if it was a reflex and habit for me… I slapped the teacher…I slapped her hard…! The sound of it made me realize what I had done and the future implications of the same…I shouldn’t have done that… I said “sorry” I joined my hands and touched her feet and I left…

It was the sound of slap that brought me out of the trans … I was shivering, cold feet, and did not know what to do next…. teacher in front of me was now surrounded by team members and they were trying to figure out what happened… for them they had just heard the “shot” before they walked inside….and amidst the chaos I left fuming… people around me were too stunned and were not even in a position to move, may be they wanted to catch/ capture me and hand me over to police… but could not take any actions nor could they decide what to do next.

I went up to my vehicle and drove endlessly…. I was lost, disillusioned by life – the society-school, teacher and the way they were treating parents… parents like me… SO what if we were not so educated like others, like other parents of school… so what if we were not highly qualified…and well placed in society… but we too are an integral part of the society.. It’s all kinds that make the world and we are not?? “Dangerous people” my mind was brewing with thoughts and head was about to explode…. I just parked my vehicle in the parking lot and rested my head on the steering wheel… this is what I remember of that day….Is this how a school should treat a parent who drives Ambulances, or to say specifically carries “dead” to crematorium?

How I reached home is still not known to me, but when I reached home… a crowd welcomed me… there were Press reporters and Police… I was arrested for slapping a teacher and I knew the headlines in the news paper next morning…

· Do we deserve this for building the future leaders of the society?

· Is this what the society has to offer to the noblest profession on this earth?

· What has this society come to??
Policing needed in the school PTM?

· Now a parent assaults a teacher!! As if students playing truant was not enough

My neighbor’s were shocked and so were my co workers… my boss was there at the police station and he was the one who helped me most in getting the bail… ….

Everybody asked me the same question… again and again…with increasing disbelief “Did you really hit the teacher….” and “I cannot believe that you hit the teacher….”

I tried to recall what had happened prior to my actions on that day…

I was called for a parent teacher meeting. My child was not doing so well in studies; he went to a private school. This was his fourth year in this school. When we shifted in this area, he was enrolled to school in grade 2 that particular year. I had briefed the Principal, Teachers and Support Staff about the trauma that my child had been through… and I also shared that “our’s was a single parent home”. I had lost my spouse in a fire mishap that had gutted so many homes in our locality and may be our’s was the only house where there was minimum of loss, only one life…. While all others had a story to tell rather, horror nightmare to share …I had gone out with my child for a movie, may be that saved us both. My wife was not interested in the movie and preferred to stay at home to treat us later with a surprise meal. When we reached home what we saw was just ashes. Fire/ flames still haunt my child. My child remained dazed for months missing his mother; “trauma” is what his case paper said. I too was disturbed and together, we were trying to build our home again…in a new locality; Away from the Past. All this was told/ informed to school and school promised to support us, to rebuilds our lives.

On that day, when a tanker with petrol collided with an electrical pole near our locality, people could barely escape the uncontrollable fire caused by spilled petrol spreading everywhere…almost 80 people were roasted alive that day… My child felt guilty, guilty that he agreed to the fact that two of us would go for the movie, he wished/ longed to be with his mother…he was barely 8 years old then … I too suffered the guilt feeling…….But all that is past

I worked with “emergency dept” as driver who carried people from accident sites to hospitals and emergency wards, or the dead, dead bodies to crematorium. I was on emergency call….as Always…I wonder why and how these many accidents take place everyday. With these many safety norms and rules, why people still manage to be in these situations…. Also how these accidents and mishap change the lives of people involved. I see dead, nearly dead, crippled or sufferings everyday.

My child most of the time was alone, he now was lonely and was into a shell which was becoming like back of a turtle…appeared strong from outside but soft from inside. He knew my job was differently demanding … most of the times… I reached home to leave again… one never knows when will an accident take place and one never knows if that person will make it to the hospital or not…

During each funeral processions, the road seems never ending, though its the same, same lanes, same busy traffic…most of the times as we wait at the corner of the lane for the dead body to be brought to the vehicle…we hear the “cause of death” and it’s the metallic thin wall that separates the driver and the cabin, us from the emotive family…But do we really drive the vehicle, without emotions? Specially when people with us are so charged up with emotions, the journey through these eyes and in ambulances are very different on otherwise busy roads… Does one ever think of all these things? Maybe grieving is very personal…

That day, when I reached school, I was late by 20 min. I was on duty, the funeral procession was delayed… the person dead, was a very young man who was not even married, was the only son… and mother did not want to part with the son… it was heart breaking……. to see the poor father trying to keep his wife away from the dead body…who himself was not aware as to what should he be doing, being with spouse who needed him most or… we were mute witness to these episodes almost everyday. I could not tell anyone that “please hurry up” – I need to be there in school for my child…

I reached school 20 min late, the conversation started on a negative note… no one asked me the reason for my being late, this teacher showed in all possible ways, that she was unhappy as the meeting was delayed and now it would overlap with another appointment and the list of “issues” with my child were endless… I was meeting this teacher for the first time, she had joined the school recently…the way she looked at me, I understood that she was trying to be as polite as possible, she was uncomfortable talking to a person who was not even dressed like other parents, who looked, uneducated and was rather too simple,,, the security guards in school appeared smart partially because of the uniform that was given to them.. I was not haggard but style, I could not even afford…. may be she did not even know my profession… I felt, had she known that… she would not even talk to me…

She started in an authoritarian voice, taking charge of the situation; very confident… she ensured that my apology for being late was not even heard. Before I could complete… “I am sorry for being late…” She just said, “Don’t waste my time in these formalities” I have to complete this today and the list is too long…

“I am aware that your son was given admission to this school on humanitarian grounds, your son gets concession in fees, while others in his class pay much more than what is paid by him… mind you this is not scholarship…” …the way she said this… lowered my self esteem. I was thinking of my child now… what he must be going through in class everyday... She continued with same tone/ speed… was this empathetic? Was this said as concern or mere fact? She continued; about how my child has ‘…. still not come up to the mark in his class, and how he is the only one lagging behind in the class….how because of him the class average was going down and may be school results would get affected…’ She said, ‘...it was a school meant for performers…’.the monologue still continued now on my child’s behaviour ‘…How he stares blankly at the teachers… who are unaware whether he understood the concept or is lost…’

I was not much worried, till last year there were not many issue, in fact all teachers, if they had to say something for him was, “loner- with poor- average academics” His class teacher was a gentleman and spoke affectionately. I doubt if he too knew me/ my profession, but he was like this to almost everyone; re-assuring to everyone about their own wards.

This teacher and her observations were different, I wanted to ask what were teachers doing to help him, wasn’t this precisely is the job of the teacher, to help student to learn, work on his weaknesses and … but I could not open my mouth, her confidence rather non empathetic stance overpowered… she continued... “..He sits in the class like a statue, lifeless… she said… but that’s no excuse to “just sit”…. She was getting angry now… I wonder why he comes to school. I doubt if she had detailed history of my child. She was talking about “now and then” situation. Everything was right in its own perception yet was not true, mere factual; it did not gel with the larger picture. I was listening quietly… almost lost in my own world, not aware of what to do, say and help my child.

She started asking me questions like, ‘… do you teach him, do you spend time with him, do you take him out, do you…’…it was more of accusation than that of question, also it was more of monologue… wherein my answers were not needed … I gathered courage and said , almost ordering her to stop…

She was taken aback; she sat uncomfortably in her chair and said

“Ok…” what is it that you want to say…

I wanted to start from the beginning, how my child came to this school, what kind of trauma was he going through, how I was able to spend more time with him…I wanted to talk about the van that I drive- Ambulance , as driver, how we drive carefully yet filled with hopes from the site of accident sites, how on reaching hospitals, doctors and professionals take care, deal with the grave situations before, “ No Hopes”- “dead” or …for every critical case… irrespective of cause of accident, mistakes, mishaps… we never drive slowly or do our best if a driver who was speeding and meets with accident… we are no one to decide, we do our best in any given situation…

.My child, certainly was not so critical, he met with an accident long back, trauma of that event was shadowing him… but he needed time, more time to recover, may be he was different than other kids of his age…or what I go through when other in the lanes of the city drive for fun, joy, when I carry dead to crematorium… or when a marriage processions stops, for van to go further… gives way…to life….all these were in my mind but all I could say was

“Please try and understand him… may be he is weak but ….”

Before I completed my sentence she took charge of the conversation, again “you know your child cannot perform, he cannot be in this school, class, and he must change the school… he is bad influence on others… we do not want others to get affected by him…. he does not understand, what we teach…” she was again on her monologue trip…

My child was not so bad, I knew about his academic weaknesses, but behaviorally he was kind, gentle and emotional with friends; though he had fewer; they loved him. In no way he was bad influence on any one…. I felt strongly to protect my child… I asked her again, what made her say “he was a bad influence”….

She could not just take this… she felt challenged, she was at loss of words, she took a pause… waited for some time and said… firmly… arrogantly

“Ok, I will explain… it’s like every one is running, you are in a race, race in your class, and he is slow, slow as dead , he is like dead body … you have to be with him…wait for him to reach a point, while others are already there…. its not possible to hand hold all the time…it’s like, one has to be with the dead body… to take care …till disposed…you feel sorry…”

I could not hear further…rather I did not allow her to complete, may be she wanted to say something different, may she would come to a different point and may be she was genuinely trying to help me and my child….but the disgust and the way in which she started talking about my child and comparing him with dead…my reflexes were sharp and rest is known to you all….