I still remember the first time I had to make tea for 10 people. I asked mum, “How much sugar should I put in?”

She was busy with the guests and rushed back into the drawing room. There I was, staring at the cups and the tea pot … while scratching my head thinking, “Should it be 10 teaspoons, maybe more? What if it turned out too sweet? Or worse, bland?”

Right then, my little brother came running to the kitchen and said: “Mum says bring the tea with kabab, hurry up!”

And there, suddenly I remembered something from the past, our chemistry teacher, Sir Imran in the lab, showing us the titration experiment: hydrochloric acid in the flask, sodium hydroxide dripping slowly from the burette, a few drops of phenolphthalein.

“See, it should turn just light pink, not dark,” he said, as we were all engrossed in the experiment.

Just then, Asmara, my classmate, dropped a couple of more drops. The flask turned a deep pink right away.

Sir Imran laughed and said, “See? That’s what happens when you don’t hold back. The balance is gone and you can’t undo it.”

He emphasised, “You must always add a little less first. Then put in more drop by drop, but if you’ve added more immediately, you can’t take it back. This isn’t just chemistry, this is life. Make it your number one rule of thumb.”

It really made me smile, so I put in just nine teaspoons, served the tea with a sugar pot on the side with the refreshment. Guests drank happily, some added more, most liked the lighter taste.

After they left, mum told me, “The tea was perfect. Everyone loved it.”

I thought to myself, “Yes, Sir Imran, you were right. This really applies to everything in life.”

That day while stirring the tea, I realised how true his words were. I also realised that teachers leave marks on us in ways they probably don’t even realise. Not just the lessons, but the small phrases, their casual advice, the way they looked at us when we messed up or surprised them. Those things stick to the back of our mind our whole life, popping up just when we need them. Like Asmara learnt life lessons from trial and error, while we by looking at that. It was a pure fun moment for all of us. But years later, it came back to me in the most unusual moment, while I was making tea for guests.

But there were also times, when we as students, didn’t see our teachers the right way. I remember feeling sad and low when I didn’t come up to their expectations. I often thought they didn’t like me, or that they favoured others. I’d sit in class with that heavy feeling, convinced they were unfair.

Now, looking back, I smile at how childish that was. And I hope many of you would agree that often the truth is right there in front of us, such as those classmates who did better than me, and of course they deserved the appreciation. I just didn’t want to admit I wasn’t giving my best.

It makes me realise how much we misjudge teachers when we’re young. We think we’re giving our 100%, but actually, we’re not. Instead of looking at ourselves, we put the blame on them, we misjudge them. Growing up changes that. And now I understand… every scolding, every strict word, the silent appreciation and the patience they showed even when we didn’t give them what they truly deserved, it all had a reason.

So, to my teachers: thank you from the bottom of my heart. What I am today is all because of your efforts. For the patience you showed, even when I was stubborn. For the words you don’t even remember saying, but they stay, they guide and they keep echoing in my head long after the class is over.

Published in Dawn, Young World, October 4th, 2025