Professor Arjuna Parakrama would have been 26 or 27 of age when he completed his Masters at Pittsburgh University, Pennsylvania. I believe he submitted a collection of poems in lieu of a thesis or as part fulfilment of the thesis requirement. He dedicated it to his teachers. I have mentioned elsewhere his explanation which could be summarised as follows:
‘People don’t remember their teachers, but what they’ve given is so much of who we are.’
There are no self-made people in this world, although many make that claim or act as though their life journeys were bereft of people, (formal) teachers included.
What made me remember Arjuna’s comment, which by the way I think of often and have inspired me to keep in touch with my teachers from kindergarten to university, is a note written by a 15 year old girl to his speech and drama teacher who, almost at the age of 88, finally decided to stop her classes.
Lakshmi Jeganathan, Aunty Lakshmi to all her students and their parents, called me recently to tell me about this letter. She sounded really happy. She called me, in particular, to tell me that not all students are terrified of her (as I was and have claimed publicly!). The reference was to an article I wrote for the Sunday Island 22 years ago titled ‘Of lessons learnt on dreaded Saturdays and unlearning the mis-learnt.’
I was scared of her as a child. I was always in awe of her, back then and now. It was when I was an undergraduate and became fascinated with theatre that I first came to realise how much I owe her. And later, I realised that I couldn’t pay the debt I owed, for she more than anyone else provided the foundation for my abiding love of literature. She knows I was terrified of her, but Aunty Lakshmi also knows I am grateful and that I love her very much.
But this letter made me realise how stupid I was back then and how thoughtful, caring, appreciative and knowledgeable Salma is.
Dearest Aunty Lakshmi,
To be honest, Aunty, when I heard the news about you stopping classes I was devastated. I was so upset that I started replaying moments that I have had in this class because, Aunty, I started this class when I was 5 years old. Aunty, I’m 15 now. It went so fast and I wish I could replay all those memories over and over again. This class holds such a special place in my heart. Like all the times you told us stories about your life. Aunty, you built this confidence in me and it’s because of you that I have no fear of speaking in front of an audience. It’s because of you that I was confident to join my school’s debating club which is such a big deal in my life. Aunty, you taught me how to read with emotion and express myself. I could not be more grateful for how much you’ve helped me. Aunty, in my time in this class I hope I’ve made you proud. I hope I am [one of] those students you remember. Mondays are going to be so empty now. And Aunty, I’m really sorry for all those classes I missed because I regret it so much now. Aunty, I’m going to miss you more than words could express. You truly mean the world to me because there aren’t teachers like you; you inspire me so much. Thank you for being there for me because, Aunty, you’re practically family and it’s so tough not to see your family. This is really tough for me, Aunty, cause I’m gonna miss saying “I’m sorry I am late,’ or hearing you read poems so memorisingly or how you mime so well. Aunty’ let’s be real; there’s no one as dedicated and committed as you. Aunty, I really appreciate what you have done for me and I hope I achieve big things and tell you about it in the future. I hope I am [one of the] students you talk about because, Aunty, I am going to think about you quite often, because everything I am is because you trust me. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. And of my god, Aunty, I’m gonna miss you like really miss you because no matter what you can’t forget daily and you can’t stop loving family and Aunty, like I said, you are family. And I will truly love and miss you. And I’ll do my best and keep the legacy going.
If any of her students (those terrified of her like me and those who saw the love, dedication and nurturing like Salma) were to remember her today and think about their lives, they would no doubt acknowledge what Salma has above. She didn’t teach us the ‘A B C.’ She prepared us for lifelong and useful engagement with family, friends, colleagues and strangers. With confidence and humility.
Arjuna was right. He was young then. Salma is even younger than he was then. It took me a lot more time to understand and appreciate. Yes, today (is also) “Teachers’ Day” and, with no disrespect to the many who have taught and keep teaching me, I would dedicate this day to Lakshmi Jeganathan, our Aunty Lakshmi.
[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title ‘The Recurrent Thursday’]
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