
As I walked into the Teach For India (TFI) classroom at Government Primary School (GPS) NBT Nagar in Banjara Hills, Hyderabad, I was surprised to find that my students primarily spoke Telugu, with only three exceptions.
Among them was a little girl, short in stature and appearing malnourished, yet her bright smile revealed sparkling white teeth. Each day, as I began my class, she approached me, showing her pinky finger to indicate her need to use the restroom.
This frequently disrupted the flow of the lesson. After three months, feeling frustrated, I asked her why she couldn't use the bathroom before coming to school. She fell silent, but I noticed her disinterest in class; she often chose to draw instead of focusing on her studies.
As a conventional teacher, I tried various approaches, including speaking kindly, using Hindi and sign language, and even reprimanding her, yet nothing seemed effective. I eventually realised that her comprehension issues stemmed from her limited understanding of Hindi, leading to her disinterest in learning.
After seven months, I was surprised to hear her shouting in Hindi one day, fiercely defending her younger brother from a bully. In that moment, she transformed from a quiet girl into a tigress. I learned that she had known Hindi all along; she simply chose not to engage.
This taught me a valuable lesson: As a teacher, I had failed to encourage her to break free from her cocoon.
That day, as I contemplated what I had witnessed, I called Jayasree during her lunch break to express my admiration for her bravery. She smiled but said nothing, which encouraged me to open up about my fears regarding my son and how her strength inspired me to face my challenges.
The next day, she surprised me with a flower, marking the beginning of our bond.
One day, during my regular lunch chats with the students, I noticed Jayasree observing us. I invited her to join the conversation and asked about her home life, curious about her situation.
When I inquired why she often left for the washroom in the morning, she explained that there was no bathroom at her home, a reality I had never considered.
This revelation prompted me to learn more about her circumstances, especially regarding her nighttime needs, which involved traveling to a distant field.
Determined to understand her living conditions, I visited her home a month later. I found her family living in a makeshift house made of plastic, plywood, and cardboard in a swampy area.
Despite their struggles, they welcomed me warmly, sharing tea and stories without complaints.
Meeting them humbled me; their happiness and positive outlook, particularly Jayasree's, reminded me of the resilience of the human spirit and the importance of community.
(Pooja Bhattacharya is a Teach For India Fellow. Views expressed are her own.)