February 15, 2009

The story goes back some light years ... to the time when Muhammad Mushtaq Bhatti was being subjected to immigration checks at Jeddah airport where he stood in line with a group of 23 other teachers. “When the immigration officer noticed that the luggage of the leader of our group carried the appendage ‘Master’ to the name tag, he simply turned around and said: ‘Well, if you are muallims, there is no need to go through your things.’”

“That one experience made me realise how rewarding and socially respectable my profession was.”Against the dull and rather dreary landscape which forms the backdrop to a teacher’s life, lifestyle and professional ambitions, Bhatti’s disclosure brings in that little ray of hope.

Not to be ignored of course though, that Bhatti’s story was penned in a foreign land. And yet talking to some senior members of the Punjab Education department who have actually taught school brings forth enough good sense and some sort of a sensitivity that belies that there is still some hope in the system. Because far removed from the run of the mill, lacking in motivation teachers, the world also has its share of muallims who would not change their jobs for anything.

Recounting his experiences of so many years ago, Mushtaq Hussain talks with professional pride about the class of general science students that was handed over to him once.

“They were a bunch of adolescent, uninterested students who had taken up the subject because they had no idea of what they wanted to do in life. It was not a very exciting situation for me too because I was trained to teach elective science subjects. However, I did not give up. Instead I started motivating them, telling them of how they would benefit even socially, to the point of getting a better lifestyle, if they listened to what I was telling them.

“Actually I had learnt the benefits of social motivation during my university education period. I implemented all that in spirit and form in the class. Getting hold of a projector, I succeeded in capturing their attention by showing them slides. Then these students, who were initially not interested in the subject, began to ask questions because their curiosity had been roused to that point.

“My reward was that I began to see a noticeable improvement in their responses. By the time they went home, they had clear concepts of almost 70 per cent of the lesson. I still maintain that these things can be done; only teachers need to be constantly mentored to practice such methodologies.”

Frankly speaking, whether it is a Bhatti, Mushtaq Hussain or Mushtaq Tahir from Rahimyar Khan, the fact remains that amidst all the whining about unrealistic salary structures and low social esteem, teaching can be the ultimate cathartic agent to human emotional turmoil. With 16 years of teaching experience, Tahir, who spent the early part of his career in Rahimyar Khan, has been the sort of teacher who would weave scenes and incidents beyond the walls of the classroom into his schedule when explaining things. Like in a class about various professions, during which he would bring the children round to imbibing the concept by involving them in a discussion about say the clothes worn by the professionals.

“I believe in asking simple questions, leading to answers that reinforce the concerned topic. Sometimes these questions may not appear relevant to the topic just then but the teacher has to monitor the discussion to reach a result that coincides with what he is trying to teach. By moving the children away from the confines of the written textbook you give them a world view that will stay with them for life. So the teacher, in a way, has to go the extra mile if he wants to really be remembered.”

Mushtaq Tahir was actually paid the dividend in the same coin. “An old student recently made my day by becoming an alibi for my honesty as I negotiated a deal with a shopkeeper in Rahimyar Khan.” The ex-student obviously carried the fulfillment of lessons efficiently learnt so many years ago.

Following the classroom experiences of a diverse group, this research happily unearthed others … in places as far removed from the elitist education systems of urban centres, like Okara, Rajanpur and Muzaffar Garh … who show the ability to rise above constraints just because they realise the long-term potential of the hard and at times, unfulfilling labour they put in as teachers.

From distant Muzaffar Garh, Masood Nadeem has his own set of principles whereby the teacher becomes an agent of social change. “For me this is the greatest single incentive.”

Sitting in remote Rajanpur, Kabir Ahmed Malik vouches for the reward of teaching children with sincerity. “The word jihad has to be read in the context of the classroom. When applied to the teacher, jihad becomes an ongoing process to nurture a generation capable of standing up for all the good things that matter in life. I believe that this jihad has to be sustained in spite of all odds and handicaps.”

But perhaps the most cutting comment came from Nasreen Mansoor: “We are all here in our schools and in our offices by choice and as we sold our time to the state, we should be ready to stand by our commitments. No body forced us to join this service, hence there is no room for complaint. End of story.”

But is it? Given the sorry conditions of teachers, especially those deputed in the vast hinterland of the country, the common refrain is that since it is the teacher who makes a nation, his status has to be improved … and yet the fact remains that in the desolation of an unfair system of economic reimbursement it is not entirely impossible to find people who are intent on nurturing Iqbal’s falcons.

The reason may be Utopian but there it is … some day, somewhere on the road an aged, retired teacher arguing for the genuineness of the five hundred rupee note in his wallet, will be seconded by a passerby. And the passerby would be a student long forgotten by the teacher himself, but one who never forgot the teacher and the lessons he learnt from him.