14 years ago ...
"Can I have a hall pass?" Mr. Kundra looked annoyed. Yash took a hall pass for a bathroom break everyday. "I'm done with the assignment." The teacher's shoulders dropped and he waved Yash to the front of the room.
On the way to the bathroom, his eye was caught by a bulletin board set up in front of the English room. It wasn't his English class that was on display, he felt relief. He didn't want his crappy write up to be put up on display for the entire school. He read an uninspired, regurgitated essay and rolled his eyes. He glanced up at the title in bold, pink and blue letters, "My Future Plans."
He was going to move away, go back to class, but another poster drew his eye. The writer had meticulous handwriting and had written far more than anyone else. He glanced at the attached picture of a young girl with a pile of stuffed animals on her bed. She was holding a stick and pointing at something out of the picture behind her. Intrigued by the story behind the picture and what someone could be planning so thoroughly, Yash began to read.
"My Future Plans" by Aarti Sharma. My great grandmother was a teacher. I didn't know her, unfortunately. But, my grandmother still tells me stories her mother told her about teaching in a one room school house. That sounded really great to me and I set up my own one room school house in my bedroom.
Ever since I was five I wanted to be a teacher. I used to line up my stuffed animals in rows and teach them whatever it was I happened to be studying. But, I always tried to make it more exciting than my teachers had. I don't know if I succeeded, but it did succeed in making me a better student. Thus, proving that teaching someone else something is the best way to learn.
Throughout my school career, as a student, I've had exciting teachers and I've had boring teachers. The teachers who are excited are the ones who care about the students and the subject matter.
I once had a teacher who didn't just teach us subject lessons. Her lessons went beyond the classroom. Her caring went beyond the school yard. She helped many of her students out of what felt like hopeless situations. She gave us confidence to tackle our lessons inside the classroom. We carried that confidence into the world. I want to pass her spirit onto others as it was given to me.
I had another teacher who made lessons come alive. If we were studying fractions in math, we were measuring. If we were studying a story, we were making it into a play. I want to teach children that even the most boring of subjects, like History, can be exciting.
These are just some of the reasons I am going to be a teacher. I want to show someone all their potential as it has been shown to me".
Yash stood stunned, staring at the poster. He drew his eyes away from the words back to the accompanying picture. It was a girl about eight years old, the stuffed animals lined up in neat rows, while she held up a book in front of them. This was a young Aarti Sharma, teaching her stuffed animal class in her own one room school house.
Yash read two more posters, finding them both similar drivel. They wanted to follow in the footsteps of their parents or aunts or uncles, because the job was rewarding and fun. Yash rolled his eyes, moving to the side. The English teacher opened his door and came out into the hallway. "Back to class before I report you for loitering."
Yash was going to hold up his hall pass, but then decided it was easier to just agree with the self-important English teacher. "Going," Yash said, heading off.
He was still slightly stunned by the conviction in the essay by Aarti Sharma. Not one of the others he'd read had half her passion. She was singularly focused on the goal of being a teacher, on inspiring others.
He returned to his class and picked his pencil up, pretending to study the math text that was on his desk still.
What would he answer if he was asked about his future plans? He could only think of two things that he had any long term interest in, bones and hockey. There was nothing he was particularly interested in, other than being an orthopaedic surgeon and hockey has been his passion. He had a natural talent for playing hockey and scoring goals and there was nothing more he loved than being on the ice. Too bad hockey season ended three weeks before. Football was gearing up, that was his second favourite thing to do.
He scrawled down the answer for a question on the page following the current assignment. Sitting here sucked, he could be outside playing catch. He couldn't imagine working at some boring desk job for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine working with his heads stuck into a computer either, any of those jobs didn't seem like enough of a challenge to him. He had to make a career out of fixing human bones or playing hockey, because there was nothing else he could do best.
He startled the moment Mr.Kundra raised his head and his chair made a squeaking sound. "Aarti Sharma, come here please?"
AARTI SHARMA!!. Holy crap! His new heroine was in his math class?. She must be completely beautiful and full of life. Smirking, he made a mental note...he'd have his chance to introduce himself after class. He slowly turned, watching openly, who was the girl with the beautiful name.
He blinked as he saw a tall, slightly overweight girl stand up next to him. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He recognized her as the girl with the best test scores in the eleventh grade. He'd thought about trying to beat her test scores, which always came very close to hers but never crossed. But, playing hockey was far more interesting than studying. Plus, he'd been dating Sheetal Chand most of the hockey season, who was considered the prettiest girl in eleventh. Yash managed to keep the relationship going for that sake, but eventually he grew tired of her due to her lack of interest in anything besides priding herself of him among her friends. Sheetal had no interest in Yash except for being seen with him and his Ferrari. Why wouldn't she, he's the most desirable and popular guy in school, Yash thought smirking to himself. Despite that, he'd let Sheetal take up a large portion of his time.
When Aarti returned to her desk beside him, he looked at her openly. Underneath her glasses she had dark brown eyes. Her hair was long and stylishly done, soft curls falling around her face. She was intently writing on her paper and he could see that she wasn't working on her math. Her paper was half filled with the same meticulous handwriting that was on the hallway essay.
She must have felt his eyes and looked up at him. When she saw he was staring at her, she looked away quickly, flipping her page until she was back on her math work.
Yash tapped his pencil on his page. Her body size didn't show on her face. Under those terrible glasses that were a few years out of date, she was lovely.
After class he was going to introduce himself, but his friend, Rakesh, was calling for him for whatever reason. By the time he pulled himself away from that conversation, she was gone.
He passed her in the hallway as she stood at her locker. She glanced his way, but when she noticed he was looking at her, she buried her head deep in her locker.
Okay, Aarti Sharma was painfully shy. That made sense, since no one knew if she had any friends at all. Most of what he knew of her, he had heard from his friends making fun of her. It was hard not to, the way she sat in the library at lunch periods alone.
And, then he knew how he was going to approach her.
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