First Day of School

Dear Paul,

Can you believe this fall I will begin my fifth year of teaching? I remember my first day of teaching at Frazer, truthfully, I only remember the first lesson, with the eighth graders, who will graduate this year. This morning mirrored some of that nervousness and panic, and somehow ended with awe.
First thing, my mentor teacher (I doubt I will ever out grow the need for mentors) sent me a text "Mrs. Kajori Biswas will pick you up in the lobby at 8:45". I readied myself and promptly at 8:45 Mrs. Biswas picked me up in the school car. A short, exciting (every car ride in Kolkata is exciting)car ride later, we arrived at a lime green school building that, for some reasons evoked comparisons to Savannah or Charleston. The school is behind a high wall that muffles the chaos of the street.
Three girls in standard blue and white uniform were there to greet me, as well as Subhalakshmi. They placed a heavy, fragrant garland of tube roses around my neck and formally welcomed me to the school. I was briefly introduced to the head teacher, and then Subha gave me a tour of the school.
The oldest buildings on the grounds were built in the 1850s and the school has been added on to ever since. Right now, they are in the process of adding elevators to the tallest buildings.
Next, we went to meet the director of the pre-primary school. There I learned that girls enter St. Johns as early as 3, many of them having spent a year prior to that in Montessori school. One the observations that the headmistress made was that when parents pushed their children to begin writing at two or three, the child's penmanship suffered later on. Here is a perfect example of why developmentally appropriate instruction is crucial in the early years.
Middle class parents in India really seem to push their children when it comes to getting an education. It is seen as a primary path to success, so exams and tests are exceptionally important. This week is mid-term exam week at St. John's which means students are in exams from 8 until 12. These exams are not as important as finals, but parents and students treat them with a rigor that is unseen in any US class I've been in.
Subha takes me next to the faculty lounge where teachers keep their things and gather to grade an chat between classes or on breaks. At St. Johns the students stay in the classrooms and the teachers move around instructing. I chat with three teachers for a bit while Subha teaches a class, then it's fourth period and I'm on!
The eleventh grade girls are all patiently waiting for Subha and I when we arrive in a narrow crowded room. There are about 18 girls, a very small class for an Indian school, but about average for me. There is only a chalk board hanging at the front of the class, and a small chair and desk. I have about twelve or fourteen feet at the front of the class in which to move about, and there is no air conditioning. That's ok though. Standing in front of a class of teenagers is my natural calling.
After Subha introduces me she leaves and the girls and I begin to ge to know one another.
I'm so busy telling the girls about life in America and answering their questions that I only get to the assignment in the last five minutes of class. I tell the girls to have the assignment prepared the next time I see them and then dismiss them for break. They don't leave. We stand there talking some more, then I tell them again that they should go for their break. They still continue to stand around as if waiting for something. Finally I begin to move through the girls to the door and they all move with me.
The next period after our lunch break, is twelfth grade and a double period. This time I am able to move through introductions and assign the essay.
The girls write about their names telling me it's meaning, who named them, and whether they think their name defines them well. I give them about twenty five minutes to write, and they do a good job of finishing the assignment.
We end class with a discussion of essay organization, and then a very short Q & A about America. It's pouring outside, a noisy penetrating rain that seems to smother and distract me as I monitor class. One of the girls offers me her umbrellla and this time when the bell rings, I know I'm supposed to move outside right away.
I head back to the teacher's lounge when I spend the final period grading the essays the class wrote.
Subha takes me back to the hotel, and I arrive back at the Oberoi elated and tired.
There is more, much more to say about my first day at St. John's, but later. More than anything right now, I am grateful to all of the mentor teachers I've had.