A House, Sunlight, and the Wisdom of Children

Finding a house on rent in Monigong village of the newly carved out district of Shi-yomi, Arunachal Pradesh, can be a daunting task, much like finding pine trees in a desert. I was beginning to lose hope, stuck in my current underground abode with no sunlight and perpetual moisture. But I refused to give up and embarked on a new quest, fueled by hope and determination. After dozens of failures, I was about to lose faith, but then something magical happened. My teammate showed me pictures of a house that would become my dream home.

As I stepped into the house, I felt a sense of joy and freedom. The open layout, the abundance of sunlight, and the sweet chirping of birds outside the balcony were like a breath of fresh air. The owners were kind and welcoming, and the four little kids who lived nearby brought laughter and joy to the neighborhood. I knew I had found my haven.

One Sunday afternoon, I sat on my balcony, lost in the pages of “The Old Man and the Sea,” when I heard the sweet voices of Khushi and Bindu role-playing as teachers. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but it was Khushi’s stern tone that caught my attention. She was hitting her friends with a stick, yelling at them for not doing their homework. I couldn’t help but intervene, curious about her perception of a teacher’s role.

As I approached them, they looked up at me with curious eyes. We had seen each other before, but never had a formal introduction. I asked them about their game, and they explained that they were playing “school.” I asked Khushi why she was being so strict, and she replied, “I am the teacher, and I have to make sure they do their homework!”

I smiled and asked them to sit down. “What do you think a teacher’s job is?” I asked. They replied that a teacher’s job was to teach and make sure students do their homework. I asked them how they would discipline students who didn’t do their homework. Khushi replied, “I hit them with a stick, just like my teacher does.”

I took a deep breath and explained to them that a good teacher never hits, but instead, tries to understand and help their students. I told them that every child is unique and has their own strengths and weaknesses. I asked them to promise me that when they grow up, they will be kind and compassionate teachers, who help their students learn and grow.

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They looked at me with wide eyes and promised. But then, Khushi asked, “What if I forget when I get old?” Her question struck a chord within me. How many of us, as children, vowed to never be like our parents or teachers, only to find ourselves repeating the same patterns?

I smiled and told her, “You are three friends, and you can remind each other. When one forgets, the others can say, ‘Remember, we promised to be kind teachers.’” They nodded in agreement, and I knew that this conversation would stay with them for a long time.

As I watched them run off, playing and laughing, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this encounter. These little teachers had taught me a valuable lesson: that kindness, compassion, and understanding are the greatest lessons we can teach.

I wish all teachers could be part of that conversation, to listen to the whispers of their students’ hearts. Let’s strive to create a world where children are encouraged to learn and grow, without fear of punishment or ridicule. Let’s be the change we want to see in the world, one child at a time.

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As I sat back on my balcony, I felt a sense of hope and renewal. The little teachers had reminded me of the power of kindness and compassion. I knew that I would carry their lesson with me, and strive to be a better teacher, a better person.

The conversation with Khushi and her friends had ended, but the lesson had just begun. It was a reminder that teaching is not just about imparting knowledge, but about shaping young minds and hearts. It’s about being a role model, a guide, and a mentor.

As I closed my book and looked up at the sky, I knew that I had found more than just a house — I had found a community, a family, and a reminder of the power of kindness and compassion.

About the author:

Yogesh hails from Punjab. With experience as a Teach For India Fellow, he joined Sunbird Trust as a Lead Teacher. Passionate about inclusive and joyful learning, he enjoys exploring education, storytelling, and the arts beyond the classroom.

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