Her Teacher

She looked back at the old yet attractive building, the last time before she stepped into her car. She stared at the black gown again, it was the symbol of her profound victory. She was extremely proud because, today, she has achieved something. She has turned into a different girl. A confident, achieving and to an extent pride of her parents. She stepped inside the building without a clue what she was about to do.

She went inside. Everything was same. The children. The swings. The classes. The soft boards. Nothing had changed because she was going. She knew it will never. She gazed around. She smiled an closed her eyes, quite for some time. Events started to flicker on her mind screen. She was in the past.

Click

She was still a 7 years old girl and she was dragged to a new better school as her parents said. The better school seemed more like a hell to her. She was thrown into the new world of “Beaconhouse School System.” She entered into the class. Her first sight catcher a bunch of well-dressed students singing their school-anthem “we students of Beaconhouse” at top of their voices. She stood there for quite some moments and then moved to sit at the back of the class where she always used to sit.

Click

She was promoted to Sixth Class. That was a miracle. She passed and that seemed something impossible had happened. No change has developed in her ever-same personality. She was still shy, quiet and afraid. Her class fellows had treated her badly. She had faced everything; she was excluded from games, she had gone through repeated targeting, she was a subject of colour discrimination and she wasn’t brave enough to protest all that to anyone. She had made no friends. The years would pass like this, she was sure.

Click

A new English teacher had taken up their class in 6th grade. Ma’am Ayesha Mazhar wasn’t ordinary. She was beautiful. She had perfect dressing. She always had a smile on her face. She looked kind.. Very kind.

Click

A diary writing project was announced. Students were told to keep a diary for 15 days and then it will be viewed by Ma’am Ayesha and returned to the students at the end of the academic year.

Click

The girl stood still in front of Ma’am Ayesha. She was probably her favorite teacher but she had never said that to her. She was too shy to express what she feels. She returned her dairy giving her an intense gaze but only saying; “I have written a lot for you, read this”.

Click

The dairy was still with her. She read it. She read every word written in that diary. She read it hundreds of time. And she cried. Maybe for the last time, she wiped the tears after she had cried enough. Ma’am Ayesha said; “If you want to cry, cry it out”. She was sick of only crying for 4 years of facing things… of always facing criticism. She was sick and she was done. Done of all.

Click

It was the prize distribution ceremony of her seventh grade. She was so happy. She couldn’t even resist smiling for a second. Her mother was so happy. She had stood first in her class. She had scored highest of all in 7 of 8 subjects. She smashed it with a massive 98%. This was not her only achievement. She had won multiple debate competitions, poetry competitions and participated actively in assemblies. She was actually one of the most confident students of her class, known by almost every teacher. She had come out as a leader. Someone who told her mates what to do. Nobody knew, how has this revolution taken place. But she knew. The dairy. Her teacher “Ayesha Mazhar” standing near the corridor, not even knowing how she had changed a student’s life was still smiling, she was perfect it. The girl looked at her. Giving all her credits and praying she teach her over in 8th as well went off.

Click

It was today. It was her graduation. She had been even a stronger student in the passing years. She had achieved well in her Matric as well and she had seen the joy of her victory over her teacher’s face. She remembered waiting for her result and when it finally came out, ma’am Ayesha was the first one to clap for her. To smile and to express her happiness over her victory. She was reformed.

I opened my eyes. It took me only five minutes to travel from that Girl to “Me”. I wasn’t this since ever. I had been too different. Who knew that depressed girl will become the happiest person. That ignored soul will be the most known student of her school. The girl who could hardly speak a few lines in English will turn out the school debater and speak person. The girl who was always habitual of obeying would “rule” in a such a way that even teachers called her the “USA” of her class. The girl has CHANGED. Everybody knew she had. But nobody knew HOW.

“A Teacher” we all read up quotes related to respect a teacher, obey her and all. But they stay quotes in our life. Nothing else. A teacher is someone who knows us. My teacher had done something to me I can’t thank her enough for. She had got out of me, what I would have searched for billion years. She has always been so humble that even after giving me this much she always said; “what have I done?” She has helped me to read. Write. Speak. She gave me LIFE. I never had the opportunity to express to her, how much I admire her, adore her, want to be like her. Smash gave me the biggest opportunity to tribute my teacher In front of thousands. Teacher Ayesha, all I can say is THANK YOU.

Dear Readers,

My purpose of sharing my story with you all was to make you realize the importance of a teacher. We all sometimes disrespect our teachers. We don’t give them the right importance. We take their scolds as offensive. Please everyone, cherish your teachers. They are absolutely the people who are the most kind. Share your problems with them. They’ll solve. I am sure. Every teacher has a heart of gold. Because Allah Almighty has selected her to preach what’s right.

You might also like More from author

Leave A Reply

Your email address will not be published.