As weird as teachers go

My psychology teacher believes that I am somewhat special, not a student who she’ll see each year. Maybe she didn’t say it but I can feel her sentiments toward me. To our class, she hates me for I ask silly questions and create a very disturbing atmosphere in an otherwise quaint classroom. For her, interaction means binary answers such as yes or no. She is not as interactive as she should’ve been. I ain’t complaining but a subject which is so vast and interesting must be taught in a more open way. As humans vary, the psychological analyses will vary too. You should see how silent the class gets when she makes a stand. She’ll enamor you with her precise theories and vivid observations of life. She isn’t frank or friendly. Her approach is formal; no nonsense. I remember being expelled out of the class for yawning. On my defence, I didn’t yawn in the first place. But she somehow saw me doing it. I’m not questioning her (which I do, very often) but as menacing as teachers go, she’s on top. She has that prime bird’s eye view which will make the most conscious of girls tremble with fear. Not one student dares to open his mouth. But I take my chances, be it rational or stupid. I remember Kasvi remarking on how I make the psychology period more entertaining than not. That compliment didn’t appeal to me at all. Since, I am the only one who has the guts to speak up and interrupt the mighty Gemini (that’s another story), I feel a lot more confident. It’s funny how she keeps on telling me how ‘unnecessary’ and ‘stupid’ my questions are. I always reply with a statement which implies that I’m curious about what she speaks about. On the other hand, whenever I’m absent she’d remark on how awfully quiet the class gets. It might make her feel a lot better for she could carry on about her teaching. But I sure as hell know that she ‘misses’ me. Believe it or not, I’m the only one who has the sole ability to keep the class warm. I have that feeling; she’ll remember me. I won’t be forgotten that easily.

Her persona is quite mystical. She is so calm and composed all the time. But whenever she feels bothered, she’ll rain down on you. She’ll make you wish you weren’t born. She wears these vibrant and weird looking sarees. It might make her look a bit ugly as the students put it, but I feel her clothes define her mystical persona. Last week, I kept my cool. Maybe five more minutes of taunting would’ve made me weep. I’ve seen people cry due to her. But ironically, she is as sweet as sweet can be. She’ll love you with all her soul. I guarantee that your day will get better after she replies you with a bright good morning. You’d feel light, there’d be imaginary flowers in your hair and you’d be happy. But wait until you get that earful. 

She always comes later than the other teachers since she lives very far from the school. I always see her slowly walking towards her common room when the second period is in running. She always has her earphones on. I do wanna know what she listens to. You know what she said when I asked her about her favorite author? “Why should I say?”, she replied with a weird smile. There are many things I want to know about her. I want to get high with her (even though she doesn’t) and listen to her speak about stars and horizons. 

My psychology teacher will always be proudly remembered. She’ll be etched onto my mind forever. But I have doubts over how much can she tolerate me. She’ll lose her cool sooner rather than later. I hope we don’t arrive at that point, for I don’t want to part on bad terms. She’s my last shot at an influential school teacher.

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