Teacher Teacher

There I was all of five years old, with my newest buddies and co boarders, Brian Edwards, and Bedford. We all looked similar, or so I thought. Except that I had straight hair define my cranium, Brian had this wierd red brown hair with a fancy curl on top and Bedford had a puff. I really can’t remember the teacher, yet all I can remember of teachers upto the fourth class is cowboy teacher. Boy, she was the prettiest thing I saw and I fell in love for the first time. I guess she got the nickname ‘Cowboy’ because at a picnic she wore a tight pant with a checks shirt. You have to admit it suited her. Another reason for that name was that our popular Joe who in those days had an additional task, that of running the projector on thursdays up in the big hall, and showed us a lot of Westerns. In those black and white movies we saw a ot of cowboys and cowgirls. And the cowgirls wore jeans and check shirts.

Then I think in class seven there was Daphne, who was plump and motherly. She was always firm but also kind. Later there was Master Aranha, and here is where I fade out. Why on earth can’t I remember any other teacher thereafter? Ahh, hold on! Fr Bulchand our prefect in the boarding and a maths teacher. By the 9th class, I had no interest in studies. So he advised me to give up my studies and join a garage as an apprentice. (of course he put it rather badly) so I did not take his advice.

By this time I was the bad boy in the boarding. Who would not be so after spending so many years in the boarding? Well anyway, after teachers and prefects telling me I had no brains and would be better off carrying luggage or helping in a garage, I had to go and dissapoint them. I became a Clinical Anaplastologist instead. The only one who would laugh at this one would be my favorite prefect, Fr. Freddie, because he loved practical jokes. By the way Fr. Aleo could not stand me, and if anyone remembers the day he and myself had a chase in the corridors during class time, right into the office of Fr Cassale who was the vice Principal.

Finally it was Fr Fabregard who spoke up on my behalf. But they were all right. I was dysfunctional in my final years and rarely attended class or wore the uniform. Finally after Fr Barjao called my mother all the way from Ahmedabad and after my darling mothers pleas, I decided to give it a go. But on my very last day in the boarding, I was sad, very sad, since I spent my youth there and left many memories behind.