Ujjaini Roy’s essay: Can and Do We ‘Teach’?


You are a teacher. Maybe a fancier name describes you. Go all the way. Prise out the one you think makes you feel gratified (in the role that is!). The moment you walk into a classroom full of 25 (give or take) odd 'learners', you feel a sense of power. Especially if you are that tall mentor with a baritone or a tenor, yours is an immediate victory. A tangible one too. It's one that makes you stretch yourself to your entire (and enviable) height and tell the motley group of pre-teens or teens, "I am your teacher." You have your lopsided smile to add a dash to your 'being there'. You feel powerful (that's the word, just for want of a better word). Consider now what Socrates said (or is claimed to have done that, at least), "I cannot teach anyone anything. I can only make them think." Do the words have an essence of the powerlessness of a teacher? It will thus be interesting to do a quick (or fairly slow) check on what facilitators take to the class in terms of their agenda, using strategies that are carefully crafted and route-maps that are desired, and at times simply destined to take the whole lot, mentor-mentee/s to some place. 

I perhaps air-write my agenda when I step into a classroom for the first few days of a new session. That's where I set my tone for the rest of the year. God save me, if I am tone-deaf! So when I face my children, and I feel a sense of additional power when I wire and rewire my brain to consider them as just 'children', I sense that power dynamic that gives me the upper hand. Not the ideal situation (ahem!). Most definitely not! There is a quick re-strategizing that follows. And I hear myself echoing Socrates, telling them in a gentle tone, a slightly different version of Socrates. It's my version. I say, "I am just like you. I am learning to think. Let's think together. Shall we?" I wonder if the power dynamic changes for the better there.

I have never been overly fond of structures, and that's true for most things in my life. There are strategies (which I often perceive as rather rigid structures) and then there are ways and means of getting there. Oftentimes when we reach the coveted spot of 'there' we realise after a while that there is no there, there (thanks to Gertrude Stein for having gifted us this precious aperture to see beyond). There is nothing more agonising than to see the best plans and strategies running aground. There is no harm then to shelve our planned strategic moves to get into the natural (or shall we call it organic?) groove of taking our class transactions forward, the way they choose to go. A big enough risk is a beautiful one in this scenario. If it fails, it's sad, but not heart-breakingly so. And if it takes us to where we want to be (at times no specific 'where'), just maybe from point A to point B, it feels so wonderfully liberating!

Do we remember the last time we flouted a road-map? Can we recall that moment when we felt clueless about where we were? Have we ever just told ourselves with unmatched daring something like- 'This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.' (T.S Eliot)? Aren't we too drawn toward maps? Perhaps, yes! And that's a tad bit sad. If my map tells me that this is the way and there is in most probability no other, I cannot and will not wonder about the roads not taken (again borrowing an acclaimed artist's oft misinterpreted words). I want to sing with full-throated ease a much-loved Bing Crosby and say, "Don't fence me in…".

At this cusp of another ending (just the academic session) and breathing down the neck of a fresh one, it is important to take stock of things. What do we plan on doing in our classrooms? Do we have a plan or several for that matter? And most crucially (pardon my redundancy throughout), why can't we let things be and step into the roomy spaces peopled by some of the most intriguing young ones, to let ourselves be led into discovering, how to make them think. An instant plan, smartly tailor-made on the spot, sparkles brighter than most others. Let's try a different 'strategy'! It's now or never.



Ujjaini Roy is an impulsive drifter and deep (over)thinker who knows just one thing somewhat well, and that’s teaching school children. Since they say experience matters a lot when it comes to this profession/vocation, it is relevant thus to mention that more than two and a half decade of teaching has made her a better learner, explorer and researcher, than a seasoned teacher. She is still trying to master the art of evolving as a facilitator and reads keenly, re-reads enthusiastically and is extremely proud of her TBR list. She loves Mehdi Hassan as much as she adores Papon and listens to Joni Mitchell, with as much awe as she tunes in to give Coldplay a ear and more. Born and brought up in Calcutta, she carries the south-of-the-city culture vibe in her veins and arteries and is quite a true-blue Bengali wherever she goes.

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