No.2 – Inching into Class – a strategy

By Nandhini G. Natarajan

 

No one frightened me

as my first standard teacher,

a nun.

Short and rotund,

with a cane

taller than she.

She never hit us but,

when mad, she’d strike the ground.

She’d fly off the floor

with each strike.

While we watched,

with amazed terror.

 

She hated latecomers.

I was always late.

My grandfather never hurried

ignored my frantic pleas.

He and my teacher

were old friends.

Still I was punished.

To stand by the door for

the whole period.

My shame witnessed

by everyone.

 

But I had a strategy,

a secret one.

Every now and then

When the teacher

wasn’t watching,

I would shuffle my feet

a few inches into

the room.

By the time the bell rang,

I was sitting

at my seat

like I was always there.

The teacher never noticed.

 

Or so I thought.