It’s the first day of the Semester.
A walk into a group of unknown ,
Your heart thumps with nervousness,
How are they going be… you never know..
There are eyes staring at you from across the hallway,
Blunt and confused,
Waiting for you with eagerness
And waiting to discover the unknown you,
There is a certain level of confusion on both the ends of the road,
They want to know you but you are so unknown to them,
You see yourself as a teacher,
Whose Job is just to teach.
They see you as a teacher who shall be available for them to reach.
The initial exchanges of courtesy and you are still trying to learn their name.
They are nervous to approach you but both know we are in the same game.
It’s been a week; a month and things seem to mellow down,
The tides once at their zenith seem to have calmed down.
The exchanges become lighter and class becomes brighter.
The shells begin to crack and the cocoon seems to open
The butterfly seems to flutter and inhibitions seem to be broken,
The classes are fun now for them and for you,
And evenings are about missing for them and for you,
The initial nervousness seems to have been replaced with excitement,
Even Saturdays are about looking forward towards Mondays,
Thinking of them is about thinking of you,
And you are the only one who understands.
As the months go by you understand,
Students fill in the vacuum which only a teacher can understand.
They have now become a reason of that upward curve
