I must say that it is a rather unusual name to have Verghee Wind, but then again that isn’t a name. It is the nickname of my History teacher back in school, Mrs. Verghese. Back then, we weren’t imaginative enough to think of such a name. My sister’s class coined this, five years, after I left school. During one of our insane conversations, my sister revealed the secret name and I’ve been fascinated by it ever since.
I began to think of the three years during which I had to be in that History class. When Mrs. Verghese came into the class (or any other teacher for that matter) came into class, we had to stand up and wish the teacher. Boy, how I hated to say “Good morning Mrs.Verghese”. As often as possible, I mumbled the greeting looking down at my desk, know fully well, that the fifty others in the class kept looking at me through the corner of their eyes. I was conscious; conscious of myself, of my teacher and of my peers.
I had the unique distinction of being the naughtiest girl in class(I still could be, but I’ve mellowed down with age). And Mrs.Verghese was one who stood no nonsense. The result was that I stood outside her class most of the time. Sometimes, she’d send others too, to give me company, other times I was all alone on the corridor, left to myself. And waiting for the bell to ring… I’ve never completed my class work or my map book, these are some of the reasons I used to get thrown out of her class. The days when I was inside, I loved to fool around and saw to it that every body around was distracted by something other than History. Quite naturally, the teacher did not appreciate this, and I found myself back on the corridor.
As I moved from class eight to nine and eventually class ten, I became more responsible, more used to the History classes and less conscious of myself. I began to love the classes and enjoyed the brain storming sessions. I kept looking forward to them. It no longer mattered to me what my friends thought of me, or how my teacher felt about me. I had to learn, no matter what, and learn I did. The endless dates, the innumerable kings, wars, battles, treaties, maps(never scored a perfect ten), places, names, princes, states, regions, and most of all acceptance. Acceptance of REALITY.
I began to think of the three years during which I had to be in that History class. When Mrs. Verghese came into the class (or any other teacher for that matter) came into class, we had to stand up and wish the teacher. Boy, how I hated to say “Good morning Mrs.Verghese”. As often as possible, I mumbled the greeting looking down at my desk, know fully well, that the fifty others in the class kept looking at me through the corner of their eyes. I was conscious; conscious of myself, of my teacher and of my peers.
I had the unique distinction of being the naughtiest girl in class(I still could be, but I’ve mellowed down with age). And Mrs.Verghese was one who stood no nonsense. The result was that I stood outside her class most of the time. Sometimes, she’d send others too, to give me company, other times I was all alone on the corridor, left to myself. And waiting for the bell to ring… I’ve never completed my class work or my map book, these are some of the reasons I used to get thrown out of her class. The days when I was inside, I loved to fool around and saw to it that every body around was distracted by something other than History. Quite naturally, the teacher did not appreciate this, and I found myself back on the corridor.
As I moved from class eight to nine and eventually class ten, I became more responsible, more used to the History classes and less conscious of myself. I began to love the classes and enjoyed the brain storming sessions. I kept looking forward to them. It no longer mattered to me what my friends thought of me, or how my teacher felt about me. I had to learn, no matter what, and learn I did. The endless dates, the innumerable kings, wars, battles, treaties, maps(never scored a perfect ten), places, names, princes, states, regions, and most of all acceptance. Acceptance of REALITY.
Mrs. Verghese, my History teacher is my mum.
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