Recently, my husband interviewed a young boy to fill-in for the dance teacher who had asked for special-just-have-to-go leave. The school is to have its Annual Day two weeks hence, and the kids were being trained to put up a special dance number. The dance teacher said he would give the school a reliable person who would be able to handle the work.
Faced with this in-the-life-of-the-school-catastrophe, my husband waited for the substitute teacher.
He came. My husband spoke to him. The story gave me goose pimples, and has me still feeling weepy…
This boy is in class 12 in a local Bengali medium school. Bright, cheerful and sparkling with life, he was asked why he wanted this temporary job when he ought to be concentrating on his final examinations. This is what he said: Sir, my parents died when I was very young. My grandmother is bringing me up. She has no qualification, and works as a cook in 4 or 5 houses. We live in one room. We have no amenities. Sir, you cannot imagine how poor we are, we do not even electricity. A little extra money would help, even if only for 2 months.
What caught my husband’s attention was the fact that this lad was not apologetic about his poverty; was laughing when he talked about his condition; did not blame life, did not groan and moan at fate, and was very willing to learn. He promised to give of his best.
Is it surprising he got the job?
My husband introduced him to the teachers he would be working with. They came back saying they were satisfied and that he would be able to get the kids ready for the Annual Day function. They were so impressed with his sincerity and willingness to work, that they re-arranged practice schedules so that he could coach his group before going to school.
Someone to think about when we groan and moan in our plenty, the opportunities we have, in all that we have, and in our comfortable lives…
What courage and in the face of what adversity…