As children, we are almost always being taught something from others, usually our elders. Be it our culture, Mathematics, language or any other topic, children are often at the receiving end of the knowledge. It was therefore a very unique experience when I was put into the shoes of a teacher.
It was turning out to be a very ordinary weekend. I had finished all my homework and was slouching on the sofa, watching a television programme to relax. My grandmother had come over just last month. Back then, we were bubbling with excitement but now, her presence no longer seemed special. Feeling bored, I switched off the television and decided to read one of the new Reader’s Digest issues. Just then, my grandmother came walking out with a wrinkled face as she turned over her new mobile phone to understand how it works. After trying for a few minutes, she finally gave up and asked, “Shorya, I can’t understand how this mobile phone works. I need someone to tell me how to use it.”
At once, my eyes lit up. I thought, “At last, something interesting to do!” Chucking the Reader’s Digest copy aside, I invited her to sit and began to explain the functions in the mobile phone with the aid of some gestures, “When you click the left button, the menu will appear. On the menu, you will see some pictures.” In this manner, I demonstrated the device’s functions.
It was during this demonstration that she inquired me not once but several times in our Mother Tongue. For instance, she asked, “How do you view the photos that you have taken?” or even requested, “Could you repeat what you did just now?” These questions suddenly prompted me to look at her. I could see from her eyes that she was really making an effort to understand and learn what I was teaching her. I was the teacher and she was the student. I also realised, “This is so easy to me but for her, this is a special skill just because she belonged to an older generation.”
However, this was not the first time that I had taught other people certain skills. I have taught my younger brothers and even my father some skills. Yet, this experience was special. Despite her gray hair and diabetes, my grandmother reflected an admirable zeal for learning. Her brown face battered by age showed earnestness, not shame, even when she asked questions whose answers seemed all too obvious. She would even say, “Let me try. Correct me if I am wrong.”
In her, I saw a pupil ever willing to learn. She was a sponge in a sea of knowledge that kept soaking up what was around her. She had just provided empirical evidence for what my parents’ kept saying, “Nobody knows everything. Even we are constantly learning. Sometimes, we also earn things from you, our children.”
That unique experience ended with her simply smiling and saying, “You sure make a good teacher. Try applying for a job in a school some day.” From that day onwards, that radiant smile has and always will remind me of this wonderful experience.