Chalk Dust Memories: Beyond the Black Board

September 5th was Teachers’ Day, a time to reflect on the lasting impact teachers have on our lives. I believe teachers are the only other souls we take for granted after our parents. We all have memories of our teachers—some we loved, others we feared. Some were unpredictable, testing us one day and skipping it the next. Some were fun, while others seemed very strict. My favorites were always the PT and Sewing teachers, right after the Maths teacher!

In school, I never skipped classes or went to the movies with friends, but college was a completely different story. Looking back, many fun and happy memories now feel bittersweet, as some of the teachers are no longer with us. As I try to put my memories into words, hoping to relive those never-to-return days, I’m filled with mixed emotions.

When Time Teaches: The Bittersweet Melody

We always saw teachers as larger than life, almost timeless in their wisdom and authority. But one day, you meet them again, older and maybe a bit frail, and suddenly they seem very human. The hardest part is hearing the sad news of their passing, and it feels like a piece of your childhood disappears with them.

Last month, I came across a photo of my 5th-grade Maths teacher in our class WhatsApp group, and it filled me with nostalgia. It was hard to match the lively teacher from my childhood with the present reality. It reminded me how time, like a gentle breeze, moves on and distorts the things in its path. It leaves behind memories that feel both distant and clear at the same time.

One of my favorite teachers always encouraged us to memorize poetry and shared tips to improve our memory. Her classroom was filled with the rhythm of words, and she often said, “Strengthen your mind through memory.” Sadly, time, in its cruel way, brought dementia into her life. It was heartbreaking to see her struggle to remember not just her beloved poems, but also the faces of her family and students!

From Stage Fright to Spotlight: Lessons Beyond the Classroom

In my first year of engineering, our Humanities professor encouraged us to present topics in class. We were shy and scared of speaking in front of others, and we didn’t like the idea at the time. His insistence on public speaking felt like a tough challenge, but now I see it was a valuable lesson in building confidence and communication skills. Looking back, I realize it was my first presentation.

The professor passed away last week, but his legacy lives on, not just in textbooks or grades, but in the skills and confidence he helped us develop. Rest in peace, Sir; you will be remembered forever.

Another professor who taught us Partial Fractions in our third year often got frustrated when we weren’t paying attention. With a grin, he would say, ‘I’m laughing in my mind when I see you all acting like this.’ Later, when I used those concepts to solve differential equations for traffic flow and machine learning algorithms, I realized he wasn’t just laughing at us; he probably felt sorry for us because we didn’t understand how important the subject was!

Fluid Dynamics of Bunking Class: When Skipping Backfired

In our second year of college, we considered ourselves ‘seniors’ and gained the courage to skip classes. We thought our professors would take it easy on us, but we were wrong. Our Fluid Mechanics professor was upset when we bunked his class. He had to walk from the main building, which is a bit far from our class, to find an empty classroom.

The next day, he stormed in and declared, ‘Staff members are not puppets!’ Then he delivered a long scolding that felt like a Shakespearean monologue! We, the “innocent” students, found it hard not to laugh and struggled to keep a straight face.

I started writing down all his monologues to hold back my laughter. My close friend next to me was curious, wondering what on earth I was scribbling during the professor’s mono act. After class, we gathered around and burst into laughter as we read the monologues aloud—each one was funnier than the last!

At the time, we didn’t recognize the dedication behind each scolding or how much he cared about shaping us. It’s even funnier how it took so many years to finally understand his perspective. The professor passed away a few years ago. He would be happy knowing we finally understood his point of view.

Movies and Mischief: A Nostalgic Ride to the Past

On a lighter note, the professor who taught us Surveying scheduled an extra half-day class on a Saturday—the same day we planned to watch a Malayalam film. It was a mythological movie about a royal mistress who brings a sage to her kingdom to make it rain. Back then, it wasn’t a film we would watch with our parents. Today’s kids would probably find it less romantic than an episode of Tom and Jerry!

With the movie on our minds, we struggled to focus in extra class. During the lecture, we looked at each other helplessly, feeling like we were hitting a giant speed bump on the road to our weekend fun. We arrived at the theater a bit late, and the lights were down as the film had just started.

As the theater was dark, we struggled to find our seats, jokingly cursing our professor for getting us lost in the dark. Then came the interval. When the lights came on, we were shocked to see our professor sitting with his family right in front of us! The rest, as they say, is history 😉

Once, during a Soil Mechanics class in the final year, I got bored during the two-hour session. I quietly pulled my friend’s drawing box next to me and “accidentally” dropped it to wake up anyone who was sleeping. Since we sat in the front row, the teachers never suspected us of mischief in class. Now I realize that you can still be a kid at heart, even while studying in a professional college.

I once wanted to be a professor, but destiny had other plans. If I had become a professor, I would have been the first to punish the front-row students! The professor passed away a few years ago. Little did I know back then that I would be writing this and fondly remembering his class years later, cherishing the lessons he taught us.

Math Lessons Next Door: When Numbers Became Family

My math professor, Richard Sir, was the only teacher I ever called ‘Uncle.’ He and his family lived near us for years before I started college. His daughters, my sister, my cousins, and I grew up together, so we felt more like family than just teacher and student.

I often visited his house for last-minute help before exams. One thing I clearly remember is his handwriting—it was so big that he’d fill an entire page to explain one equation. I still have those notebooks, each filled with his bold writing. In class, he would sometimes ask if anyone knew the cricket score, mixing his love for the game with our lessons.

Uncle passed away a few months ago, we still keep in touch with his family and share memories that keep his spirit alive.

Last but not least, I was lucky to have teachers who had also taught my mother in school and college. One day, while shopping with my mom, we ran into one of those professors. She kindly said my mother was a “silent and obedient student.” It made me wonder—was she hinting that I wasn’t quite the same? Hmm… maybe, maybe not!

Looking back…

Teachers play a vital role in our childhood and teenage years, so when they pass away, it feels like a significant chapter in our lives has ended. Their lessons extended far beyond textbooks, and I can never express enough gratitude for all they did for me—the support they offered even when I didn’t know I needed it.

They remind me of my younger self—the awkward teenager filled with hopes, fears, and mischief. I’m only now starting to see how deeply they influenced me, and how essential their impact was in shaping who I am today. Teachers leave a mark, even after they’re gone.

To all my teachers in heaven, I sincerely apologize for not taking many things seriously. Thank you for everything!

As I put my memories into words, a gentle wave of nostalgia washed over me, filled with both sadness and regret, leaving my thoughts of the lost past wrapped in silence.