Shibly had just got out of the principal's office. The principal was someone respectable on one hand and someone terrorising the whole scene on the other end.
Maybe this is the way the administration must be carried on…! Shibly might not have witnessed the neatness and the order that he saw, only if this strictness was not there.
Shibly wasn’t fond of people, who have a dominating-nature. The thought of working under a dominating man was exhausting. For the same reason, he had opted not to work in the corporate sector. Nevertheless, destiny seemed to chase him.
Shibly wanted to distract his mind.
****
I hate people who have dominating-nature and those who then name it their leadership skill. When you make people demoralised, how could you expect from your subordinates the best out of them? You could gain some instant gratifications. In some instances, this leadership style might work.
You can not obviously see the things that you lose because of your dominating leadership style. These things you lose are called opportunity cost in the field of economics, the very first lesson I learned when I sat on the very first day in my advanced level economics class.
It is neither possible nor my job to change other people’s leadership style. I must do my job correctly. That is the most important thing I am supposed to do.
The principal sternly told me it is not my business to concentrate on anything other than teaching. Then, what to worry about? I am going to spend most of my time with my students. It is very easy to go along with them.
They often do not have prejudging tendencies. Their view of the world is pure. At least, I believe so, to this moment.
Adults are not like kids. They would have several leftovers out of their experiences. These “leftovers” often remain a barrier to having a value-neutral interpretation of people around them and the events.
****
Minhaj sir had not shown up yet.
The first period was already over. Standing close to the office was stressful. It was not a friendly place at all.
Shibly wanted to run away from the office. But, he couldn’t. He simply walked away and stood under the shade of a pine tree. It was so comforting.
Rizwan sir and another male teacher were walking towards him. Rizwan sir must have already told this man about Shibly.
“How are you Shibly, sir? What did Hitler tell you?”, the new teacher asked him straightforwardly.
****
“What Hitler told you?”, the new teacher’s question made me uncomfortable, even though the nickname ‘Hitler’ was perfectly matching the principal. The nickname seemed to be in the school air for some time.
I won’t say I had never nicknamed anyone. I had nicknamed my friends. But, they were simply out of fun, and not for any serious purposes. I had nicknamed regrettably even a few of my teachers on some occasions, and it was also once again just out of fun.
Nicknaming the principal is not going to be out of fun. It seems to be a serious business. There is human dignity everyone deserves. Maybe the principal does his job better, except for his mannerism. It could be too early to judge him.
Maybe the principal is pretending he is strict. Even my teaching parents used to pretend ‘strict’, in front of their students. Whatever the reason was, the new teacher's approach did not make me comfortable. It gave me an unnamable discomfort.
I helplessly smiled.
Rizwan sir introduced me to the new teacher. “Shibly, I must introduce you. This is Fahim sir”.
****
Fahim sir was talking seamlessly. It took no time for him to start talking endlessly despite myself being a stranger.
“I did an external degree. I got the graduate appointment. Since then, this is the third school”.
Rizwan sir is though not a moody type of person, he is someone counting his words before speaking. It was apparent Fahim sir was completely opposite. He spoke without giving space for Shibly to reply.
He was forty-five years old.
He had some political affiliations.
He had four kids. The first daughter was in the first year of advanced level class. The last son sat for the grade five scholarship exam the previous year.
Fahim sir voluntarily shared his personal information with Shibly. Shibly was embarrassed when Fahim sir posed similar personal questions.
“And what else Shibly sir? I hope proposals must come these days, ah..?! You are a university graduate. You must already have someone”, Fahim sir laughed disgustingly at his own joke.
Fahim commented on the administrative matters, the very same matter the principal had warned Shibly to keep him away from, a few minutes ago.
“It is really hard to work with Hitler. School is so backward after he came here. Lot of problems. He tries to dictate everyone. We tried to get a new person. So far, it isn’t successful”, Fahim sir said.
Shibly had to say something.
“I think Fahim sir is the most senior teacher here”, Shibly said, clearly remembering Izzadeen sir is the most senior teacher.
“No, no, there are many people. Izzadeen sir is the most senior one, he is our deputy principal”, Fahim sir sounded as if he is not so old to be the most senior person.
At the same time, the principal got out of his office.
He saw Fahim sir and Rizwan sir talking to Shibly.
“Mr Fahim, what do you have now?”, asked the principal with his authoritative tone.
“I have the lesson to grade six class, sir”
“Then, what’re you doing here without getting to the class right away?”
“Yes sir, I am on the way, sir”, Fahim sir started walking with an apparent embarrassment. Rizwan sir slipped away with him, before getting scolded.
****
Shibly became alone under the pine tree shadow.
Minhaj, who had just promised to come to introduce Shibly to the staff members, had not yet shown up. The principal was handing him over more and more work.
Teaching meant students alone for Shibly. He had never given any serious thoughts about the staff whom he is going to work with. He had heard administrative power struggles. But, he had never experienced how strong they are.
When he was a student at school, he had least cared about administrative matters. He could only now realise the true magnitude of its strength.
He made use of this idly standing time, until Minhaj came, to observe the school premises.
This is a fairly simple and small school. Only three buildings were there.
One of them was a double-storey building where the principal’s office was situated.
The other two buildings were single-storey buildings. One of them was a very old building. It could be a first-ever hall constructed here. Its recently renovated look could not hide its true age.
These three buildings had been constructed on the three edges of the square-shaped ground where the students were involved in their physical exercise today morning. The front side, the remaining edge of the square-shaped ground, was covered by pine trees, just like bushes.
The entrance gate was comfortably covering itself with tree branches. A walking path connected the school main entrance with the street. Close to the school were the principal’s house and Izzadeen sir’s school quarters, where Shibly is staying. Right next to the gate, the school name board was hanging saying “Marudur Muslim Vidyalaya”.
He had heard there are classes up to the advanced level in this school.
Idly standing for so long was a little awkward.
Thankfully, Minhaj came at last.
“I am sorry, sir. Got late. Mornings are always busy”, a sincere smile had been imprinted on his face.
Minhaj looked confident and comfortable. He no longer looked nervous.
“Our deputy principal Izzadeen sir is on a leave. Otherwise, he would have introduced you to everyone”, Minhaj said.
Shibly is a medium height person. Minhaj was too tall for anyone to consider him fat. Both Minhaj and Shibly must be of the same age.
“Minhaj sir, you are from Marudur or somewhere outside?”
“This is my native place. Have you heard of Muhideen Hajiyar? My house is next to his house. By the way, please don’t call me ‘sir’ ”.
“You are a graduate?”
“Yeah. I am a graduate of Kelaniya University. Actually, I did sociology”.
“Sociology? Maa-sha Allah. I like that field. So, you are a graduate teacher”.
“Not exactly, I am working here as a volunteer. I am not a government-appointed teacher. I don’t want to be a teacher”.
“Really, why?”, it did not take long for Shibly to realise that he was doing unnecessary probing.
“It’s just that I wasn’t interested. I don’t have any particular reasons”, said Minhaj, apparently irritated, “but, I think you are interested in teaching. I helplessly overheard your conversation with the principal. Would you mind if I ask you a question?”.
“Yeah..! I won't at all..?!”
“I am just wondering whether you are really interested in teaching, Shibly sir?”
“Please call me just Shibly. No sir. But, Why do you doubt it?”
“People usually don’t tell the truth in interviews. In the schools, we have more lady teachers than men”.
“It wasn’t a real interview. I was already appointed. The principal is my superior officer. Not my employer. So why should I lie? In fact, I had to make some sacrifice to get this job”.
“Sacrifices?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Sacrifices. But, we call it ‘opportunity cost’ in economics”.
****
The staff-room for the female teachers was situated in a corner end of the old building. It was a building with clay roof tiles and tall roof peaks.
The building structure wasn’t allowing sufficient sunlight to enter the building. Behind the building was an upward-looking land of the double size of the height of the building. A meter-high grown guinea grass-bushes were also creating a dark atmosphere within the building. Although the building wall had been recently renovated, the darkened-old clay tiles made the building look even darker.
Primary grade classes were there in this building.
Another old memory suddenly flashed his mind.
There was a similar building in his school as well when he was in primary classes. It was in a corner of the school premises. It was a long old dark building. A kind of horror looking darkness was always prevailing in the building. Kids used to call this building a ‘dark school’. One or two electric bulbs could not chase away this darkness.
In the neighbouring land next to the ‘dark school’ building there was a partly constructed building. Even the view of this building was horror from the ‘dark school’.
Kids used to make up stories out of their imagination based on the dark school and the construction site.
They were either ghost stories or adventure stories. All of them were somehow horror-filled.
Even Shibly had narrated such stories. Some of the stories were so horrific that he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night sweating after seeing horror-filled dreams.
Shibly was reliving those old memories before he and Minhaj reached the staff-room on the other end of the building.
A lady teacher was sitting at the corner table closest to the door.
“Excuse me, teacher. This is our new staff - Mr Shibly. Joining our school, today”, Minhaj said.
The lady teacher turned back and smiled. She was Habeeba teacher, Shibly’s grade six class teacher.
“How are you Shibly? It’s very glad”, she said with genuine happiness, “Minhaj, you are introducing me to my own student. Shibly is, actually, my student”.
Shibly did not expect this.
He was standing there speechlessly for a few seconds.
((To be continued))
(Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental).
Riza Jaufer
Akurana, Kandy,
Sri Lanka
