To Teach and Learn

Before, 12 Sci C, 2010 What stood tall for thirty years or more is now being hammered down. A new traditional gate will soon welcome all who come to the school. As a student I walked under the old gate ten years ago and today I am witnessing it getting demolished. I feel a profound loss or else I would not be writing this. This gate stood mighty and firm for so many years. It was often the favourite spot for the students to take photographs before it - souvenirs after graduation. The gate proudly posed behind many to grace the people in the photographs. And people knew it was Punakha HSS because of the Gate, it was Phunakha’s face for so many years. Demolition  A Buddhist Gate. Courtesy Google image The Gate didn’t have our traditional architectural feature but it had deeper expressions of what is rooted in us as Buddhist, The Wheel of Dharma. The Dharmacakra on three flying banners adorned the Gate and it took the school to many a great heights bles

Western or foreign students in movies and books are interesting. Movies like Dangerous Minds, Coach Carter , and books like To Sir with Love or The Water is Wide  portray students who are challenging. These stories are about ordinary teachers who love their job. Imagining these movies and books I cannot help but feel lucky to be teach my students.  I feel lucky to have students who are genuine in their effort to learn.  I am thankful to have students who put up with me during hot sweaty Punakha afternoons.  I am proud to have students who work hard to do their best. I am thankful to have students who are genuine in the respect and I am grateful for the friendship we share. Though I share jokes with them, they know that there is a line between us which we should respect.  My classroom is safe because there are no guns or knives. Students are not high or intoxicated. And they listen to me when I reason with them. They challenge me and the book when it is required but do it

I love English, I always loved English even as a child and through English I define myself as a teacher. It has only been four years as an English language teacher but I want to see myself growing old with this subject. With every lesson I teach in the class there are new words to learn, new phrases to understand and new excitements to enjoy every time I read lines that come with powerful spontaneous over flow of the writers’ emotions. I envy theses writers for having so many words and so much skill at their disposal to express themselves and their surrounding with so much clarity and coherence. Every word mingles with other words to create pictures in the readers’ mind, images that are rich and provoke one’s imagination to wander and reach for new horizons. I love English and by expressing my love for this subject I want my students to also love this rich subject of literature and language. Today in our country the quality of education is questioned and with this the standard of

I was once visiting a cobbler in Thimphu and when ever I am with a cobbler or a barber I always speak Hindi and try to have a conversation so that I get to practice my Hindi. I love this language to the extent that I envy it when I compare it to our Dzongkha. It is so rich with vocabulary. But I my writing is not about praises for Hindi, it is something totally different which I came to realize only later when I got the time to think about the conversation I had with the cobbler. The cobbler was from the Indian state of Bihar like most cobblers and barbers in our country. I asked him about our country and the prize of getting shoes repaired in Bihar and there were many other topics that came up. Of all the topics what I remember very clearly is about telling the cobbler that I visited Bodhgaya three times in my life untill now. Then I told him that he must have visited Bodhgaya as he was from Bihar but to my surprise he said he did not though he lived only few kilometers away from

In any venture in life there has to be something to fuel one’s persistence and dedication in following the goals that are to be realized. The morning assembly speech by one of my students did exactly that. Over the years as a teacher I have heard numerous speeches on various topics but never have I been more inspired to continue on my journey as a teacher. The topic of the speech as posted earlier was, ‘the best source we have to make our tomorrow bright, are our teachers’. I would like to thank this boy for his kind words. That particular morning was an enlightening moment for me as a teacher. In a time when the quality of education is questioned and criticism burdens heavy on every teacher’s shoulder, the words of the boy was like the fresh spring showers in a season of drought. In the hard work of his principal the boy came to appreciate and believe in the essence and reward of working hard.    In the sacrifice of his warden the boy realized the joy of dedicat

We can do something! One afternoon after finishing a story in class 12, we discussed the theme of the story, ‘Ethics of modern science and its impact on human lives’. The story was about a teenager who undergoes a brain transplant but the operation rather than doing well only affects the main character who undergoes the operation.  The affect is emotional damage rather than the after effects of a scientific venture gone wrong.  The brain transplant also affects the other characters who are related or involved with the main character. So, we were discussing the theme at a broader level and talking about the effects of science on our planet and our lives. Global warming was the hottest topic that flared instantly. I said that global warming was a real threat to our survival as it threatened the very life of our planet, may be the life of our planet would end during our lifetime because the Earth is becoming hotter and the polar icecaps and the glaciers are melting s

3 men caught with 284 grams of hashish Hash Possession 27 September, 2010 - Thimphu police have seized 7 three men, suspected to be involved in the illegal transactions of controlled substance. This is not the latest news regarding hash, the recent was young people in Punakha caught by police(BBS 4 th Oct). Hash or also known to some as maal or to some others as Laerim has come a long way. From what I read in Dasho Kinley Dorji’s ‘ Within the Realm of Happiness’ , Karma was one of the first who introduced smoking hash in the country. People didn’t know what the smokers were doing rubbing the plant on their palm then. And now the story between hash and young people is growing numerous, most of the time taking the front page or making the headlines. Most tourists I hear are amazed to see the abundance of marijuana growing freely in our country. Now, the reason why I write what I write is to support Has

I was relived to find that he did not blame people like me who took very little interest in our national language. According to him, the national language suffered and could not develop because of the situations and conditions which were unavoidable. One key reason being the late modernization of our country. It was only in the early 1970s that modern developments started taking place in our country. Now in the tenth five-year developmental plan, our country is still not developed enough to produce goods in our country. Now, you may wonder like I did, what has this got do with the national language. According to Dasho Sherub for the development of any language, nouns/names are important but in our country since everything is imported from outside and have their own names, we need to invent new names in Dzongkhag. But, even after inventing names it is important to keep pace with the advancement that the technologies and developmental aspects are maki

On the 24th of September my school was visited by the Secretary of the Dzongkha Development Commission, Dasho Sherub Gyeltshen. The objectives of the visit were clear as I know our national language is important but listening to the Dasho’s presentation, I came to know I never really realized how important it was to me as a Bhutanese. I had been clouded by ignorance and had been carried away by my English. How I was good and better in English had me never really be bothered with how poor I was or am in Dzongkha. I never thought about the impact it would have on my country’s future if there were more people like me. People like me who prefer to use English over Dzongkha and only look at the national language as crude and not rich enough to express ourselves. Language in any society is of utmost importance, the language that weaves the social fabric is the identity of that particular society. With globalization in place, every country is striving to promote their identity. One should

My most vivid memory of a Dzongkha class in my primary level is the Dzongkha teacher’s stick. I remember one incident in class three when our Dzongkha teacher smacked one of my mates so hard that the boy shit in his gho. I can’t forget the teacher or the painful ashen face of the boy with whom I studied for six years.  As for me I can’t remember getting any serious beatings, may be because I was always on the guard, as I always managed to copy my homework on time and struggled to memorize my text though I always received little beatings every now and then but they were not considered beating as everyone got them. I escaped the serious beatings because I managed one way or the other. I was not good in Dzongkha. In fact I hated the subject. I am not proud to say that but as a child Dzongkha period was the longest period of the day for me. I remember how the clock ticked by painfully slow. I use to pray my Dzongkha lopen would meet with an accident.

Bhutan , the land of Drukpas, blessed with the hereditary kings since 1907, has always remained  a happy, independent and proud country. People in our country wear our unique national dress and take pride in doing things differently with the foremost goal of “Gross National Happiness” the royal vision that the whole world respects and appreciates today. Bhutan was continuously blessed with benevolent kings and the process of modernization came to this last “Shangri-La” in the 1970s and with modernization Democracy began to step in. A Century of Monarchy brought Democracy. Democracy is young in Bhutan, but it is greatly praised for its unique origin. Democracy has come to this country in the most unusual way. The people were happy and were unwilling to creep out of the monarchical wonderland. People did not demand for democracy but it came as a gift from the Golden Throne despite the peoples’ reluctance. Therefore, the irony here is t

If you ask a tourist how easy is it to get directions in Bhutan, he or she will tell you they never got  lost in Bhutan, not because our towns and cities are small but because most people living in the urban area understand or speak English. However, the situation in the classroom is different and belongs to a completely different context. Though we learn English right from our elementary classes and though English is the medium through which other subjects are taught still only three or four students in a class of thirty five are good in English in most classes in most schools. Now when I say good in English you may wonder the scale with which I am measuring my students and qualifying them as good. My standards are shamefully humble and I have to do this not because I want to but because I have to. If a student is in class nine and doesn’t know the difference between ‘there’ and ‘their’ or if a student is in class eleven and doesn’t know the

I studied my favorite poem when I was in class ten, back then it was not my favorite. Not because I didn’t like it or didn’t understand it but because there were not many poems I read or took interest in. But still there was something about the poem, few lines imprinted in my memory.  ‘ How dull it is to make a pause, to make an end, to rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use’ , ‘To follow knowledge like a sinking star, beyond the utmost reach of human thought’. May be it was because of the stylish way in which my teacher read the poem to us or may be because it was my teacher’s favorite poem, so that’s why the interest in teaching the poem came to him so naturally. And later on when I had to teach the same poem to my class 12 students I was excited with a nostalgic atmosphere surrounding me in the class. I tried to replicate the lesson like I experienced it ten years a go but my memory failed me and I knew I was too ambitious. But when I too

I have not written anything for sometime now and this feeling is suddenly making me afraid; what if I can no longer write what I feel, what if the words that I use can no longer give shape to my feelings. If this happens, I might lose a precious part of my life. The part that helps me reinvigorate my senses to the happenings around me. It helps me not to act on my impulse but gather a ground from where I can contemplate my doings and bring about maintenance to the life I am living. Writing has opened my soul and made it ready for me to look at myself through critical eyes to bring better changes. The things that I write have made me aware of my own feelings that I record in words to revisit them later. Sometimes I relive them. In reliving those moments, I gain control over in studying, understanding, and realizing myself in a much better and sometimes improved way. Thus, I am thankful for this gift, which helps me understand myself and the life that I am living. I want to write p

A teacher is known to mould, The young minds as told. We give but don’t take, For theirs and our conscious’ sake. The tasks are mighty high, But still the limits are like sky. We toil on the trace, Keeping our face. We are said to be the light, That shine through the darkest night. But people don’t know a teacher’s a mule, Working and burning his fuel. Day and night, Fighting like a brave knight. We follow the tiring tread, To earn the future bread. We give but not know to fake, To serve and to make. The future with our touch, But it is only this much. Sad it is to know, That every one is a foe. Every voice is cruel, Forwarded to a crazy duel. It is not warm, Like a barren farm. Every thing is strange, Which needs a swift change. To lift up the spirit of a teacher, Like a filmed feature. Motivate and raise desire, Like the warm bright fire. Thus I urge, To let my soul merge. With the heavenly dove, To bestow love. Not bothered with critics,

It is said that, ‘walls have ears’ but its hard to believe that today they even have ‘mouths’ . The toilet walls in every school in Bhutan are scribbled with words and pictures of all kinds, which make them, speak. The first thing that the newcomers experience in their first day at school, is the difference in rules and regulations, environment and the feelings. However, one thing remains the same. The Toilet Walls. No surprise! The toilet walls always remain the same. They are scribbled with dirty words, filthy pictures and used to express aggressive feelings. The true nature of a wall, which is to be clean, is never maintained. The change in the time has also led to many changes on the toilet walls. They are not ordinary walls as students refer them with different names now. Some call it “slam wall” because the walls are filled with bio-data and criticizing words just like in a slam book. Others call it “wall net” derived from internet since one can find in

You flow with a mighty roar, Yet you sooth my tired ears. Songs you sing to me of the past, present, and future As I watch and flow with you. You are immortal like the Life you sing of, and You will continue to sing after I am gone. So please sing, sing with joy And let my poem be your song.

Exam hour, A Different Experience It is a beautiful day. The sun is shinning. The birds are chirping. The sun’s ray flicker on the leaves as they rustle in the gentle breeze that gushes softly from the river below. Inside the class, the fan swings its hands slicing the air like a warrior in a heated battle. The fan’s rotating sound is disturbing. Other than the soft flipping of the pages, falling pencils and pens and a little cough here and there, nothing is heard in the room. A pin dropping on the floor can be heard. Naïve but stern faces over papers are a spectacle to observe as each individual face has a story to tell. First, there are the ‘no-nothing’ faces that are the easiest to spot in the group. It is amusing to watch them as they sweat and scratch their heads as if doing that will make the answers fall out of their jammed heads. Their eyes linger in mid-air thinking about what they should write just for the sake of not leaving the answer scripts blank. But at the same ti

'Follow Knowledge like a sinking star beyond the utmost limit of human thought' Tennyson. I hope they do, my prayers are with them.

Green air fresh the mind, together we learn, moments to remember.

Increaser of Merit, Ocean of Wisdom. Apprehensive torrents purge my bay, The once tranquil atmosphere now fades Like the morning mist giving way to the day When I behold this pure creature, I made. Pure he is, like the heavenly dove Born into this unforgiving time Where you can feel the cry of ravished love Tainted with cruelty prime. Therefore, this is an honest prayer From an honest father for his new son Like the true words of a soothsayer Let my words shine like the bright sun. May he grow strong and tall Become wise with fulfilling stern May he never fall But when he does let him learn May he live up to his name “Gephel Rigdhen” the increaser of merit, ocean of wisdom Let his path be laden with fame And bring merit to all beings with freedom Freedom of the spiritual kind In this tired times of crazy gale With a rich matured wise mind Let him in his purpose never fail May he grow like the vast ocean Bearing a fulfilling rich face Dedicated to hu

The Rain. The Rain plays on the steel roof, The Rain claps on the cemented floor, and The Rain beats on the leaves broad. ‘Tip, Trap, Trap, Tip…’ it sounds. Singing away with the worldly hue. It sings of a season new. ‘Tip, Trap, Trap, Tip…’ It says to the withering flower, ‘Worry not for here I am ‘. It promises to the waiting farmers, A hearty and prosperous season. It sings to the mellowed grasses, and Dances on the roof tops, Kissing away the heated Earth, Promising life and to nourish it.

Afternoon class. Drowsiness hangs heavy in the air, and The fan tries to do justice to its purpose. It swings it arms like a mad man. Below the students linger, With heads supported with pillar-arms. They try to pay heed to what I say. I send two of them to wash away their sleep, A joke brings back their consciousness, I continue my lesson but they receive, Every word like a lullaby Trying not to droop like rich red poppies, They hang on. Their eyes gain weight, Drawing all the energy from their body, They try to hold it open, But with hopelessness, strive. I pity them and myself, so I call it a day.

It was an illuminating incident and now when I look back at it and I smile. I smile at the joy of teaching and realize that it is not one sided, I teach but more than that I learn every time when I am with my students. It was an afternoon class and an afternoon class in Punakha when summer is at its peak it a difficult class for any teacher to keep his students awake. It is a challenge. So on that faithful afternoon I found my students not so eager for the story I had for them. We talked about career and since it was in science, I talked about their career choices and how choices are important in our lives to make us better human beings. Then I talked about the choice I made, to become a teacher and the choices my friends made. I expressed my unhappiness about not getting opportunities to go abroad for short trainings or workshops, while my friends who are in positions lower than me get to visit many places that I only hear about in books and see in movies. Moreover, that particular

Modern day Knight I call myself a modern day knight for they call me ‘Sir’, The sword of knowledge do I hold To chop off ignorance in those naïve faces, Their heads, which lie on their shoulder. My purpose is noble and civilised manners do I nurture In their young mind the honesty of truth. I teach them how to shield themselves From the apprehensive torrent of this unforgiving world. The armour that I wear is stronger than the toughest metal For it is smitten by love and care. And it shines even in the darkest hour Reminiscence of the goodness that it bestowed upon humanity. Every day I shout in the class as if I am crying out a Battle Cry. Every day I toil, sleepless nights do I spend To prepare for polishing my young warriors to face life This seems no less than a battle. I give, I take, I teach and learn, I toil, I suffer, I enforce, I care And at the end of each day my reward is being called ‘Sir’. There is a profound expression On th