My Birthdays

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned twenty-seven. “Twenty-seven? Really?” paused my mind, “Are you sure?” Not very long ago my mother and sisters at home would often start a discussion about me. They would wonder whether I really grew up, and whether I could really take care of myself. “He’s just older on paper”, some would jokingly conclude, “Our kids need to be told and shown and reminded of everything. So does their great uncle!” I am sure that they would differ today. My life has changed a lot in the last three and a half years of studying abroad. Birthdays, too, have become a lot different. Today when I recollect the series of twenty seven birthdays I have had so far, I feel strange. There was a time when I used to feel upset that I had no stories to tell. Today I am amazed to see so many little stories born out of only twenty seven days of my life.

I am blessed to have a family that turned many of my birthdays into grand celebrations. Whether a get-together at home or travel, my family made sure that I never run out of fond memories to cherish. I was too young to remember anything from my first birthday. However, when I was a little older, one day I found an old invitation card behind a wooden bench at home. The invitation sounded like a nursery rhyme. It was worded as if I, a one-year old, was asking everyone to come join us. It felt special. The first time I distinctly remember cutting a birthday cake was when I turned five. In the middle of the cake I saw a candle shaped like a ‘5’. I was told to blow it out, and suddenly everyone in the room started clapping and singing. Amidst the noise, I was prompted to cut the cake and pose for pictures. I was overwhelmed. However, I felt at ease as the story repeated two years later, in front of another candle shaped like a ‘7’.  By this time decorations made of balloons and colored papers began to fascinate me.

From then on I always wanted get-togethers whenever I stayed at home during birthdays. My sixteenth birthday was unique. There was nothing planned the day before, but I was adamant on inviting at least a few family members. To be fair, we ended up ringing almost everyone we were close to. Those who could show up the next day, did so. There was no special decoration, but honestly I did not need any, thanks to the quality time we enjoyed. On my nineteenth birthday there was a reunion of a few very good friends from high school. I am fortunate that we could be together at my place on a few more birthdays. By the time I entered my twenties, my nephews and nieces grew up. My birthday became their day of celebration. The day I turned twenty-five is a day I will never forget. Having arrived home from the other side of the world two days ago, I was still jet-lagged. In the early morning, my drowsy eyes lit up as I watched my children busy at work. They spent hours to make me a collage that said, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUTTIMAMA’ (Happy Birthday Little Uncle). Waiting in the queue to surprise me further were their beautiful hand-made cards. I heard that they had been planning all of those for months. Inspired, I let the camera of my new smartphone speak for me as long as I could keep my eyes open.

  The first time I remember traveling to my aunt’s place at Dainhat in the Burdwan district of Bengal was when I turned three. It remained for years – and it still is – a special train journey through the greenery of rural Bengal. This repeated in the years I turned six and nine. From my aunt’s place we went to visit the ISKCON temple at Mayapur when I turned six, and the royal palaces, mosques, gardens and tombs of the Nawabs of Bengal at Murshidabad when I turned nine. On my eighth birthday my mother was recovering from typhoid, but I was too young and stubborn to accept that there would be no celebration. To calm me down, my father took me for a brief visit to the Bandel Church, even though his health was not good either. We could, however, make up for it during my twelfth birthday as we toured Rajgir, Deoghar and Chittaranjan. My most cherished memory from this trip is the visit to the ruins of the Nalanda University near Rajgir. The structure, the bricks, the stairs, the places that were ancient student halls and the surroundings of one of the oldest universities in the world made me speechless. In hindsight, this was perhaps what sowed in me the desire to be part of a university one day. The other beautiful memories that stay with me came from the visits to the Victoria Memorial in Kolkata, the Maithon Dam in Jharkhand and a tour to Tarapith, Massanjore and Santiniketan during my thirteenth, eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays respectively.

Some birthdays were not that pleasant, but they forced me to learn and grow as a person. One of my maternal uncles died of a train accident two days before my tenth birthday. We were all set to travel when the news came as a terrible shock. In a house with everyone mourning the untimely loss of one of the most talented artists in the family, I learnt on my own not to demand anything on my birthday. My fifteenth and seventeenth birthdays were close to my board exams. I had to take one mock test on each of those days: a three-hour Biology test on the former, and a three-hour Math test on the latter. Known to be a studious boy, I was afraid to speak my mind back then, but it took me quite a while to break the shackles of ‘why me’ and ‘why today’. Eventually it occurred to me that a bad exam would mean a bad memory. So I became determined to write my best exams on both the days.

Over the last few years I had to stay away from my family on quite a few birthdays. The large family gatherings gave way to only a few close friends; some of them could not be there even if they badly wanted to. The once all-day events started to wrap up quicker. The once never-ending chatter started to leave room for quiet reflections. I am slowly getting accustomed to it, but I must say that I needed this experience. This made me learn what I could never see otherwise. If I really want to celebrate, I can; it is just that I may need to be active. If I want someone to join me, it is up to me to ask them. If I really want to have delicious home-cooked food, I can; it is just that I might need to cook. If I really want to go somewhere, I can; it is just that I might need to plan and execute. It is always fantastic when family and friends can do things for me, but sometimes I need to do things for myself so I can enjoy birthdays. I am fully capable of the latter. It feels scary at first, but with time it becomes empowering.

One of my favorite TV commercials as a child was a Complan ad. A mother looks at her son’s abandoned toy cycle. She wonders how quickly he has grown up. To her great surprise he takes her out for a ride on his real bicycle. When I think of how I used to be during my birthdays in childhood and how I am now, I feel that I have come a long way. However, inside me lives a little child in the world of dreams, hopes and fantasies. He likes to be mischievous; he notices little things; he feels deeply; he gets excited at every opportunity; he is still very much alive. I treasure him. He makes me who I am. I want to keep him alive, no matter how old I get!

Introduction to Teaching

         The golden moments of the first seven years of my life still live in the album “Aamaar Shoishob” (My Childhood). Thanks to my mom’s meticulous work, I have the privilege to open the album and look back on my childhood whenever I wish. On one of its pages there is a question: “What did my elders say I would be when I grow up?” Mom left it blank. Perhaps it bothered me as a kid. One day in her absence I wrote an answer myself. The answer was ‘master’. I guess that I was about five years old at that time. ‘Master’ was the best word I could come up with to describe a teacher. I did not ask anyone. No one suggested either. Anyway, the answer got written, and it never changed. To become a teacher has always been my dream.

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          It was around the time I got introduced to the compound letters of the Bengali script when my dad brought home a blackboard. I saw my primary teachers writing on blackboards; I tried to do it myself. I quickly realized that the good old slate-pencils do not work on a blackboard. Dad got me a box of chalks. I started writing letters and words, and reading them aloud to the empty room – just the way my teacher would do to a full class. It was a unique experience. I felt energized, delighted and a lot lighter inside. What surprised me was that I was able to comprehend and retain a lot more than how much I usually could without having anyone by my side.

This was the very first time I acted as a teacher. It was great fun. I wanted the fun to continue. I had no clue back then that two decades later the fun would turn into something very special. This Spring I got an offer to teach an undergrad Flight Mechanics class. My section would be a small one with nine students, which is a good size to begin with. As a Graduate Teaching Fellow, I would be the instructor of record and responsible for all the lectures, homework assignments, quizzes, final exam and the letter grades. This would be completely real. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster as the first day of class got closer. As I met my advisor the day before, he said, “Dipanjan, tomorrow’s your Big Day!”

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During school days, one of my favorite topics to write an essay on was ‘Your Aim in Life’. I used to write that a life without a goal is like a boat without a sailor, and that my goal is to become a great teacher. As I grew older, acting as a teacher in front of an imaginary class became one of my favorite hobbies. When we stumbled to recall our Biology lessons, our favorite Biology teacher used to say, “Simply reading isn’t good enough; you need to ponder over what you’ve read.” I figured out that switching to the teacher mode automatically gave me the scope to ponder. The mock-teaching greatly boosted clarity and confidence. The excitement was overwhelming till I realized one day that I needed to control my voice. One day our ex-neighbor said to my mom, “I heard him. I thought he must be tutoring someone. Then I saw through the window. There was no one else. He just kept talking with animated gestures!” I understood that they were concerned, but I was too crazy to stop.

My life at IIT brought me one step closer towards my dream. My friends recognized my aptitude and asked me to tutor them on many occasions. I could not help feeling enormous joy and satisfaction at every such opportunity. It was through these sessions I began to experience what it takes to teach well. In addition, I taught high school students as a National Service Scheme volunteer for a year. Towards the end I got the chance to work as a teaching assistant. By the time I came to grad school I became confident in my potential to teach well. Grad school gave me the platform to learn the essentials of effective college teaching and practice the same. According to my advisor’s plan, I took the Flight Mechanics class from him last Spring and worked as the teaching assistant last Fall, and thus had a full year to master the subject material. All these prepared me for the Big Day.

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The night before the Big Day I sent out my very first email to the class. I introduced myself and told my students to relax and sleep well before they would show up at 8 o’clock the next morning. In hindsight it was in fact what I needed for myself to calm down. I scheduled the activities in the first class in my head, but it turned out that I had underestimated the time. It took me a week to realize that 50 minutes, which at times seemed never-ending as a student, fly at the speed of light when I am the teacher. I learnt that there is only so much material I can go over in one class. I also learnt how to assess students while helping them develop a better understanding of the material. I cherished the freedom of teaching in my very own style. I tried to encourage my students to think critically and ask questions. I enjoyed keeping the class as interactive and conceptually rich as possible.

I could never imagine how long and intense the behind-the-scenes work could be for a teacher. It required me to focus on the course, think through and research all the topics I felt difficult as a student, and stay away gracefully from all possible distractions. It was hard. However, when the early student evaluations came in March, I knew that I was doing a good job, and that students were enjoying my class. I raised the bar quite high. The rest of the semester was all about doing what it takes to live up to the expectations of my own, my advisor and my students. The semester ended on a high note. The class size will increase from nine this Spring to about seventy the coming Fall. Let us see how it goes. I am all set for the challenge.

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        One of the major takeaways I had from the training on teaching is to never leave students without telling them three major takeaways from the day’s class. Readers, before I let you go today, I want to share with you three very important things I have learnt during my journey – a tiny glimpse of which you just saw.

One. Follow your passion. Nurture it. Let it grow big. It is a process full of bliss that someday will serve the world. It is the direction in which you take constant baby steps no matter how hard life gets. It is your own story to inspire millions of people. Circumstances that overwhelm you appear just to add colors to your story. What if you do not know your passion yet? Keep exploring. It will just occur to you.

Two. Never stop learning. Muster the courage to step up and start doing the hard job that you once thought you could never do. Do not worry about making mistakes. Your mistakes are your biggest teachers. I had a Math teacher who during our first meeting said, “Look, I don’t teach Math. Students can learn Math just by studying the examples in the book. All I do is to open their eyes.” For the next year and a half I saw him constantly pushing us to work out problems that we thought were beyond our reach. He showed us how they could be within our reach should we be willing to go the extra mile. This is how we become wiser in every sphere of life.

Three. Everyone is a teacher. To become a good teacher you do not need a degree. All you need is a strong desire and determination to make a difference in the lives of your fellow humans. You teach by the way you carry yourself, the way you nurture relationships, the way you set and respect healthy boundaries, the way you share and execute ideas. You teach all the time through your actions. "Actions speak louder than words".

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The success of a teacher lies in the success of their students. I hope that listening to my story has enriched your reservoir of positive energy to keep going. That's all I had for today. Thank you, love and good luck! :)