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On a Morning Assembly Speech.

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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
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Becoming Bhutanese

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The Sun peeked from behind a cloud and began slanting through the windows, zeroing in on the boy who was still sleeping. “Breakfast is ready.” It was Kinley’s father. “Get dressed, you are getting late for school”. Kinley was in Class Nine at the local high school. He was an intelligent boy. He got along very well with the school “sophisticates” with their funny hairstyles, which he knew was the popular Korean cut. He studied hard and came first in his class. Soon, influenced by his stylish friends, Kinley too began copying the Korean look so he could fit in better with his friends. It started with the hairstyle but over time he became obsessed with everything Korean. Before he knew he was swept up by the new “Korean wave” that was sweeping all the young people in the country. Photo courtesy Druk Youth Fashion “Kinley, you are changing day by day”, his father told him. ” I am afraid that you will be like the funny-looking boys I see loitering in
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Exam Hour

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It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. 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 fans swing their hands slicing the air like warriors in a heated battle. The fans’ 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 time, it is painful to watch th
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