An Unexpected Solution

Dear dedicated reader,

And just like that, as things are wont to happen in Kadod, my bike problem has been solved.

Of course, the solution came out of one of the bike’s very problems: the attention it draws. You see, seventh period I went to take my all boys class, 9D. With exams starting this week, they have been rowdier than usual recently, and today was no exception.

“Please take out your books and your notebooks,” I began.

“Teacher—“ One student interrupted. “We don’t have.”

I looked around the room at the sixty five faces looking back at me blankly. “You didn’t bring your books?” I asked them incredulously. “All of you?”

“Teacher – “ the same student started, “we – no class… 6th….”

I have learned, over the past few months to decipher such incoherence as I am often on the producing side of it when trying to speak in Hindi to other adults.

“You thought you weren’t going to have class after 6th period because exams start tomorrow,” I finished for him.

He looked relieved. “Yes, teacher.”

“Well,” I said, addressing the whole class, unsure of what to do, “I assume you all brought notebooks and pens. Or,” I added sarcastically, unable to help myself, “are these basic tools of the school day at home as well?”

The students began shuffling around in their bags for their notebooks and pens. I looked at the clock and winced at the wasted instructional time, and at the fact that I now had to make an impromptu lesson plan that would capture their attention for the next 25 minutes. “Since your exam is approaching, very soon, it would seem, I’ve prepared a review of Units 5 through 7 for today..."

I settled the students into busily copying some review notes that I had written on the board when one of the students named Vicky called me over.

“Teacher, Spoken English class is today?” He asked quietly as the students around him vigorously copied what I had written on the board. Since the interns have left, Melissa and I have assumed responsibility for before and after school one hour Spoken English instruction.

“Yes, I think so,” I said.

“But, school will be out early. No eighth period. Exams,” he replied. I hadn’t anticipated this. Perhaps if I could understand the Gujarati announcements in the morning I too would be in the know, but as it is, it has become a matter of course for me to obtain my information on the fly this way.

“Well, I guess we’ll see who shows up,” I said with a shrug. I was about to walk away when the same student stopped me.

“Teacher,” he said quietly, “Your bicycle?”

I had to laugh a little. “Yes, it is mine.”

“From Bardoli?”

“Yes.”

“And you ride it?”

“Well,” I confided, “I did, but there is some problem in it.”

He looked excited. “Teacher, I service your bicycle!” He said it so loudly some of the other students stopped copying what was on the board.

“We’ll talk about this after class,” I said, giving the teacher-look to all who stopped copying, causing them to laboriously take up the task once again.

After an arduous twenty more minutes of corralling the sixty five students’ attention on the last period of the day before school lets out early and the day before exams begin, the bell rang and the students poured out of the classroom, pushing each other in their race to see who could sprint to the gate (and freedom) first.

A few of my boys from the afternoon Spoken English class hung back, including Vicky. It took me a minute to realize that the reason they were hanging around was to see my bicycle.

“All right, let’s go,” I said, laughing. As we walked over to the house I explained the problem about the chain. They listened studiously and nodded a few times. After reaching the house, they waited on the porch (as per the rules about students not being allowed in our guesthouse) as I wheeled the bike out from its hiding place in our sitting room.

“Oh teacher,” they cooed, “very nice cycle.” I fielded the normal questions: where did you get it, how much did you pay, how did you bring it back, how much did you pay, why did you pick this one, how much did you pay, all as gracefully as I could. Then it was time for business.

Vicky and another student, Amir, crouched down to examine the chain. They spotted the problem in under one minute and explained it to me in even less time.

“Teacher, the chain is too loose,” they said, pulling at the offending part to show me. They explained that I can get it fixed in town and that they’ll come on Sunday to take me to the place (a relative of Amir’s) to get it fixed.

Problem solved, just like that. I have to agree with Melissa’s observation: “We should just ask the kids everything. They are so helpful and way less judgmental!”

True that.

Best,
Cat