We Had No Geometry

When you think of our future together, what do you see?

Parallel lines.

Oh.

What do you see?

A pair of sine and cosine waves.

See. Parallel lines.

The Mystery of the Shrunken Jeans

Filed under: Conversations I never imagined I'd have.

R: This is yum. What did you put in this?

A: Dark chocolate, white chocolate, a bit of milk, unsalted butter, cream and sugar.

R: This is so good!

A: Also, explains why the jeans don't fit anymore.

R: Dat ass!

A Love Song For No One

Memories are meant to fade; sooner or later, they vanish without a trace. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, something happens and the memory plays in your head so clearly that for a moment, it feels like it was just happening. 

It can be anything; a passage from a book you're reading, the sudden whiff of a familiar perfume, driving down a once forgotten road.

And sometimes, a song.

Bittersweet, like intense dark hot chocolate with whipped cream.

Music that resonates in the deepest recesses of your heart.

Lyrics that make your knees weak.

A duet that makes your eyes well up.

You're back on that hill watching the city light up as the sun sets. There is laughter, someone pushes your hair to the side. You smile, you look away.

You think this is forever.

But nothing is forever. 

And then the song stops playing, but life goes on.

http://sound2.mp3pk.com/indian/rdb/rdb10(www.songs.pk).mp3

The Promise Of A Brave New World

Any goodbye could be our last goodbye.

But never is this a more glaring possibility than when saying it to family and friends who live really far away. 

And even more difficult to bear is their lingering presence in the small things they might leave behind; a single sock, a hair clip, the scent of their perfume in the pillows and sheets. 

You feel their absence at the empty dinner table, in the silence of your once chaotic meals.

You hear their voices in those semi-conscious moments before you fall asleep.

You even miss their "wisdom"; those hours they spent in your room reminding you of how every decision you took led you down a path of self-destruction and then trying to tell you how to live your life.

I am just emotional today.

Nevermind. 

Goodbye, blue sky.

The Bobby Pin Dentist

I once mentioned that the job of a primary school teacher is the amalgamation of many different jobs. This proved to be true yet again. Today, I was an emergency dentist and my tool of choice, the bobby pin. Yes, indeed. I honestly felt like one of those Army doctors in the middle of a battle field trying to use whatever they can find to help the soldiers.

To be honest, school during lunch break isn't any less than a war zone. Students trying to finish everything as fast as they can, running around, chattering like monkeys, throwing water at each other, crying because they don't like their food with the poor teacher on duty making sure no one gets hurt, everyone finishes their lunch, no one falls into the trash bins, opening packets of biscuits and chips for all and sundry all the while trying to finish their own food. I don't know how most of us are not alcoholics. 

Today, I was trying to quickly gobble down my pizza when one student started wailing. Why was he wailing? Did someone hit him? No. Did someone spit in his lunch? No. Did he fall down and hurt himself? No. 

He was crying because there was a guava seed stuck in his teeth. 

Welcome to the world of a primary school teacher.

I first thought I should tell him to man up. It was just a damn seed in his cavity. What are those fingernails for anyway?

Then I looked at his big, fat chubby face. Those sad eyes full of pain, looking up to me to save the day. 

So I put on my Wonder Woman costume and decided to be the savior of all mankind once more.

Okay...I'm exaggerating. There is no costume.

I pulled out a bobby pin from a student's hair and got alcohol swabs from the first aid to sanitize it. Then I washed it to remove traces of the swab and with one flick, out came the seed. The kid looked at me like I had just saved his life. And if you really think about it, I had.

So whoever said "Those who can't do, teach",  all I have to say is, "Bitch, Please".

The Opportunity Cost

Disclaimer: I love my job.

Before reading further, please commit to memory the above mentioned disclaimer. 

Good. 

Now.

This post is about how much I hate my job.

I really shouldn't say this, but I will because parents need to know what monsters they are raising. I mean for the sake of sanity of people everywhere, please stop spoiling your child. STOP. The next time your kid throws a tantrum at a toy shop about some shit expensive toy they want and you think "I'll just buy this so he shuts up" STOP. Turn around. Look your kid straight in the eye, smile and then SMACK THAT LITTLE TWERP UPSIDE THEIR HEAD. Then turn around and walk away.

No child, no matter how filthy rich their parents, should be brought up believing they can get away with everything. Teach your kids the value of hard earned money. And if your child has that kind of retarded idea about life, then you are to blame. You were too lazy to raise them right. So smack yourself upside the head. Or better yet. Let me do it.

But this isn't really what this post is about.

This is about the most basic right a person gives up when they decide to become a teacher. The one right every human should have to express their pain, their anger, their frustration. 

The right to swear like a sailor.

Or a trucker.

I mean what am I supposed to do if my finger gets caught in the cupboard door? How can one NOT scream out obscenities when in such utter pain? But no. I am just expected to eat, drink and be merry. How is that fair? 

Sometimes I feel like a nun.

I Spy

I am convinced that the job of a primary school teacher is one of the toughest in the world. And I'm not saying this just because I am one myself. You are basically a substitute parent with the added responsibility of educating these wild things. You are also constantly switching roles from bad cop to good cop, from friend to foe, from an entertainer to a serious, frown bearing, glasses wearing, nose wrinkling lecturer all the while functioning as a dictionary, an encyclopedia, a mentor, a model and well...the list doesn't end. I mean, there is a reason I take four hour naps after coming home from work. But with all this drama, you get to have these incredible moments that only childhood innocence can give you. 

The school where I work, the faculty bathrooms share a common wall with the students' bathroom except, since ours has its entrance from the faculty room, most students have no idea that we are so close. We can pretty much hear every single conversation that goes on in there because of the air vents. Some of these conversations are hilarious. Six to eight year old children convene to complain about their day, or how harsh their teacher is or what they got for lunch and what they are willing to exchange (they actually have a proper barter system in place: one brownie for two bananas and a chicken nugget, two cookies for four nuggets, the list goes on) 

A couple of days ago I was chilling in the faculty bathroom, trying to get away from an incredibly boring teacher who loves to give religious talks to all and sundry. I was sitting and reading when suddenly, one of my student's voice drifts in through the air vent. She was basically bossing the first graders around, telling them off for not using soap, discussing lunch break with one of her friends...the usual. I was just listening to her when I had one of my "Edison" moments. I stood under the air vent and called out

"Umamah, get back to class this instant. This is a bathroom, not a club."

For a few seconds there was complete silence. And then..

"How does she know everything?!"

"Told you. She's a witch."