Years passed like days, friends came and went, kids metamorphosed into citizens, but this place has been constant. Like everyone else, I too had a roller-coaster ride and swerved my share of highs and not so highs, through the school life.
The backbone of a good school is not made from fancy classrooms and large campuses. It is made from the excellent education imparted by teachers, and I owe a sincere gratitude to all the teachers who have taught me through these years. I don’t think there is a single teacher in the school who hasn’t scolded me in a fit of rage but it all seems worthwhile.
Saying goodbye engulfs me in a tornado of emotions.
I remember my first day in the school. A shy little kid stepping onto unfamiliar territory but while stepping out, public speaking is the best part of my skill set.
Went from being a raw retrospective renegade, to a refined retrospective renegade and iconoclast. Despite joint efforts the outspoken renegade part didn’t change through these years. (Stubborn?)
The three years I spent in our computer clan DynamiX, from noob to President, will be a cherished time and I can say that I’m proud of all the work we have done as a unit. The basic objective was to elevate ourselves and I think we managed to do that. It was wonderful being a part of the tech circuit. All the last minute chaos, procrastinated preparations, technical handling, pushing the team to work harder and systematically organising a computer symposium of our own is really something greater than education can preach in practical experiences.
Being the Deputy Head Boy and House Captain for one year each, and on the hindsight also being suspended from school four times in four years, maintaining it an annual ritual (thankfully none last year) was a contrast like no other.
I have been suspended for from the stupidest of reasons, which include uploading photos of a school trip to Facebook without the consent of teacher, abusing a teacher in class, to supposed cyber crimes and slapping a fellow classmate who oh so handsomely deserved it (read: evil teachers taking revenge on brilliant students).
I doubt if anyone has been late to school more times than me. Having an average of 9 times a month in the last two years, I have been told its something to be not proud of. But the supposed walk of shame when you enter after 9am everyday is definitely memorable.
Every person in the school right from the sweeper to the principal felt like family.
I will miss the brown furniture, the broken chairs, the scribbled desks, the walls I wrote on that said ‘Do not write here’. I will miss the grounds, the corridors where I tripped way too many times, the bunkers spot stairs where I learned more than by attending classes. I will miss the guard Bhaiya who would always let me in even when I entered at 10am, the sweeper Bhaiya who was perennially annoyed by our filthy classroom. I will miss the chemicals we most daringly experimented with minus the adult supervision, the apparatus we always damaged in the lab, the computer systems we crashed out of frustration, the books we issued from the library but never returned. I will miss the Principal’s room where I have received appraisals as well as rebukes countless times, the classrooms where the foundation of the person I am today was laid. I will miss the morning assemblies in high temperatures, where we are supposed to sing the same stupid song each day and then listen to a not so wonderful clichéd story. I will miss the overpriced canteen food, the pakoras and spring roll and that awful chutney. I will miss the chaotic rush through the swings while you are bunking and someone shouts that the principal is on round, the times I have been made to unnecessarily tuck in my shirt, threatened to get a haircut and forced to cut my nails. I will miss the teachers, the students, the building, the classrooms, the washrooms, the corridors.
Ramjas, I will miss you.