Tuesday, April 26, 2011

School Experience—To the next class till Mother learnt to teach me

I was entrusted to an elderly lady as my guardian. Though I was in a boarding school, I remember myself staying most of the time in that elderly lady’s house. I had this very uncommon and embarrassing habit of getting leaked in my sleep, and today as I recount my life then, I sometimes feel guilty that a woman who I merely knew had to clean my bed and feed me simply because she knew my Grandpa. Her husband was some kind of a gomchen in the village, and whenever he was asked for rituals and rites in neighboring houses, I was the one at the end of eating all those spare foods which he was served for performing rites and rituals. There can never be anyone as grateful as they in my life after my Grandparents and Parents, but life wouldn’t wait for anyone. Even before I realize that I owe them more than just my life, they passed away, time waits for none.
Langdurbi School, it’s one of the remotest schools in Zhemgang district, during those days used to have classes up to second class and the school constituted of one building which served as headmaster’s office and another half-built building as dining hall. There were no hostels and we, just a handful of students, used to sleep in the classrooms. There used to be sometimes incidences where other kids would complain to the teachers in the morning against me for passing out urine in sleep at night. Sometimes, I used to bribe my friends with tengma (beaten maize), and used to get myself saved from further embarrassment.
There were few of older friends who used to help me getting firewood (which we have to collect for school during Saturdays). They were also the ones who used to help me reach my home during the holidays. The barefoot journeys were always tedious in marshy summer with landslide leeches and snakes. Whenever we worked in the agriculture field, we always carried a stick, not to be used as walking stick or shoo away the dogs but to beat the grass so that the snakes could be driven away.
I didn’t really complete my year in pre-primary class due to the sudden illness I succumbed to. Perhaps for two teachers, it wasn’t the difficult decision to pass me to the next class and moreover, I was leaving the school. I don’t remember whether I attended the exam or not, but I definitely was promoted to next class, and the next class was in different school, back in Bumthang with my parents. And folks in the place still didn’t forget how I got stuck on the moving tractor and how I almost lost my life.
Wangduecholing Junior High school was back then called as Jakar Primary School. In 1995, I had to learn English alphabetical again and this time, my mom who first studied the pronunciation of the letters from other educated neighbor, taught me.
Parents continue to teach us throughout our life.


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