Chapter 3: Sacrifice and Scorn

Two years of high-intensity work had seriously damaged my back and neck. The pain kept me up every night. I’d wake at 2 a.m., massaging my neck, listening to the ceiling fan’s rhythmic whir.

The doctor strongly advised me to take a long break.

But it was final year. I worried that a new class teacher would disrupt the students’ rhythm. The thought of another teacher handling my class made me restless, like missing the last local home train.

So I only squeezed out time on weekends for hospital treatment.

As for a break? Maybe after the students graduated.

Never expected the parents to report me for this. It felt like being betrayed by your own family during Diwali.

I replied patiently: “Kabir’s mother, class teachers are people too. Bimaar padna toh normal hai. I only go to the hospital on weekends, in my personal time. It hasn’t affected my work.”

But her next words were even more infuriating:

“Personal time? Kya personal time? Teacher ho, class teacher ho—24/7 available rehna chahiye.”

At this point, other parents joined in:

Sneha’s father: “Kabir’s mom is right. Class teacher banna hai toh awareness chahiye. Nahi sambhal sakte toh mat bano.”

Amit’s father: “Last semester you got married, teen din chhutti li thi. Mujhe laga yeh sahi nahi tha.”

Ritika’s mother: “We agreed to let you be class teacher because of your experience. Agar pata hota ki itni problems hain, toh young teacher le lete.”

I couldn’t help but push back:

“Dear parents, haan, mujhe health issues hain, but I’ve never let it interfere with the class. No matter how tough these two years were, I stuck it out for the students. If I wanted an easy life, I could have stepped down anytime.” I tried to sound steady, even as my hand hovered over the phone, wondering if they’d ever understand.

Kabir’s mother snapped: “Bas acting mat karo. Noble banne ki zarurat nahi hai. Sab paison ke liye hi karte ho na? Sabko pata hai class teachers ko extra milta hai.”

Right then, another parent sent a barrage of angry emojis, while a forwarded meme about ‘greedy teachers’ popped up, as if WhatsApp group drama was now mandatory.