12 Years A Slave! (read: Student)

My School My Life

                                                      -  Shubhankar Mishra

“A solemn walk, an audacious prance,

The merry singing, the merry dance,

The old and young, the wise and naïve

Institutionalism, Idealism, holisticity alive

Ample learning and advancement rife

The tree of knowledge, a root of life “

Summing up twelve years of my life in a page is a magnanimous and frankly, impossible task. Yet it is imperative that I try. And Centre Point School has taught me exactly that. Try. Strive. Fall. Pick yourself up. Try. Soar.

I have played in the corridors of the red buildings and swinged along the branches of the ‘Gulmohar’ trees for as long as I remember (and far too long than I am proud of) .From a terribly meek and ailing youngling in junior school, to a fat bruiser of a brat in senior high, my experienced, dedicated, understanding and far-sighted teachers somehow managed to propel my overweight constitution onto the stage and thus help me find my calling as a performer. I would have been left desolated, hunched and ignorant had I not been a student of this school.

It makes me think.

The sheer amount of hours and love that the staff and teachers surrender to make our lives better is overwhelming. From the peons to the principals, the indiscriminate work fidelity is moving and awe-inspiring. Be it the indocility and irregularity of a standard one calf or the ferocity and incorrigibility of a teenager in senior high, the teachers are an army trained to manage them all and Boy! They manage ‘em good!

My school is my life and my life is 25 years old this year.

It calls for celebration and hoo-hah but it also calls for some quiet and pure gratitude to be felt within all of us. Regardless of the duration for which you might have been associated with this school or the role you played during the course of your association, a hearty “Thank you” to your class teacher or a well tutored “ Good morning ma’am!” to the Principal might do you some good. Be wary though. She might correct you. “It’s afternoon Mr. Mishra!” I better start wearing a watch.

A thousand things left to say.

A bunch of other wonderful and enigmatic things have occupied a good part of my twelve years in this school. To not mention them is a crime I hate to commit. All I can conclude with is a big “thank you” in exasperated bold fonts hoping this futile attempt would wrap up my love for this school.

Thank You Centre Point