BENGALURU: The pandemic has, for sure, created new divisions among people, be it the raging arguments on ‘what’s safe enough’ even among family members, or the ‘masked’ vs the ‘masked-on-the-chin’ factions outdoors. It has also blurred quite a few lines – between day and night, home and office, parents and teachers… The last one struck me quite sharply recently, ahead of Teacher’s Day, when a video forward showed a Bengaluru-based doctor talking about how constant adult presence beside the child during online classes may do more harm than good, with the parents’ real-time evaluation of the teacher’s knowledge, pronunciation, and the teaching methodology adding more pressure on the faculty members. The child too is under more stress, getting coached from two sides simultaneously. So, yes, turns out, there are far more challenges for virtual learning than bad internet connectivity. 

A few weeks ago, a social media post highlighted another issue bothering teachers as they try to navigate their way about this new norm of holding classes – online bullying from students.

Youngsters today may often know more about how to position the camera the right way, or figure out in a jiffy the locations of various icons on the screen, and many of them leave no opportunity unused to undermine the teacher when it comes to tech skills. Over the decades, teachers may have got used to the idea of having nicknames like ‘red chilly’ or ‘shorty’, but nothing would have prepared them to face curt corrections from none other than their pupils. And there’s little they can do about it. 

It’s a tightrope that teachers are having to walk now -- between proving themselves kind and caring on one hand, and strict and disciplinarian on the other, all under the watchful gaze of the parents. Not so long ago, the tables used to be turned when parents visited the school for the PTM. It was the domain of the teachers. They belonged in that space. The setting was perfect, with the blackboard, not the clothes-stand in the balcony, in the background. It was easier to connect with each other, when the ambient sound was of kids’ whispering, not the dog’s barking. And those connections were strong enough to last a lifetime. 

Decades after passing out of school and college, fleeting memories of my teachers often sneak upon me at the most ordinary moments. I often think of Jagannathan sir when I cook ladies’ fingers sabzi, since that was the first one I learnt how to make, in preparation of a Scouts and Guides camp that he organised. I often wonder if Balasubramanium sir, our Maths teacher, who used to wear yellow and red trousers, and pink and purple shirts, and was mostly seen all by himself on the premises, had the courage to come out in the 1980s, when LGBTQ rights were unheard of. I have always admired the grit and resolve shown by Neelam Katara, our English teacher and one of the most soft-spoken persons I have met until now, when her son was murdered by Vikas Yadav, the son of an influential criminal-politician in Delhi. 

I am sure, it’s not just me. Most of us would want to meet our old teachers. And say thank you, and sorry. 
This Teacher’s Day, perhaps we should let the realisation hit home, that the pandemic has changed equations, and that we really need to stretch ourselves to respect the gurus, across the computer screen too.