To The Teacher Who Ruined My Life

Anonymous Anonymous in Your Story on 18 August, 2017

It’s me. Didn’t recognize me? It’s okay. I never occupied that first bench to get your attention either. I never gave you my expensive pens and did not ask for it later. I never conveyed your message to other staff members ever. I was bound to be unrecognized. Or should I say, I was never allowed to be recognized.

The academic session began with that first lecture when you showed up and asked to introduce ourselves along with the “PERCENTAGE" we passed with. Henceforth, I learned to judge people by their academic capability. Not to mention, your changes in courtesy towards students according to their marks.

That “IMPRESSIVE” look to the 90% guy and that “GOOD FOR NOTHING” look to the student with 50%. If only you had considered to ask them what other things they were good at.
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Then came the time when you were supposed to make us sit because of course, we were too novice to decide what’s our best position in the class and you knew the right bench we deserved to sit in. If you haven't got the idea by now, I was made to sit in the last bench because what good was someone who had scored just 60%?

Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You taught us since the beginning that education is important. Education as in history, science and maths, you meant. Not sports, arts and drama. That is just for the sake of our extra-curricular activity right? And probably for the annual function. For the rest of the year, we are just back benchers.

By the time I somehow managed to reach up to the level of your expectations, you said maybe I was being too hard on my brains and I should just focus in getting the passing marks. My simple perception on achieving knowledge outside the books was hence nullified by your fact that it can get me nothing if it isn't achieved from the book itself. Like any other taunt, I decided to not let it get under my skin.

“Your kid is a loner. Tell him to sit along with the first benchers so that he can get some help.” Those were the exact words you said during the parents-teacher counseling session.
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But obviously, you wouldn’t tell them that making me sit on the last bench was indeed your idea in the first place. And hence, it was finally shoved down my throat that my love for writing won’t get me far enough but an A+ on my report card would. I had to give up on my diary and had to switch it with the assignment book. Not that I was never interested in studies but making me do that at the expense of my passion somehow made me lose interest in it.

I finally ended up studying. And fortunately scored decently too. Of course, not well enough in your eyes, but it will do, right? So a few years from then, I decided to take up a stream where I could secure a good future.

And as for writing, it can be done anytime right? Maybe, after school, or after graduation, or after getting a job? Okay after settling down? Oh come on, are you still a kid that you need to own a diary and write down stuff that comes to your mind? You should have done it when you were younger.

Sir, your education system made me quit that extra-curricular activity and now the society asks me why I didn’t do it at the time when I was supposed to. Yet, I am still trying to justify my degree which wasn’t even my own choice in the beginning. And what about writing? Well, not a diary anymore but the writing somehow found its place in the trash folder in my computer.

Yours respectfully,
Back Bencher.

Editor's Note:

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