There’s a
new child in school. He’s a 9 year old Thai and he knows, at most, a few words
in English. Of course, he landed in my class. I admit it- I fumed. Heck, I
breathed fire. I even had a chat with the admission department. In an ideal
world, which is what we see in movies, teachers have infinite time to spend
with each child, casually introducing a song here, a book there, a deep
conversation in between, and lo presto, difficult children have become docile
achievers, dumb kids start radiating intelligence and everyone’s exchanging
hi-fives. In real life, there’s very little time to do any of that. So, all I've
been able to do so far is shoot despairing glances at him as I run from one
child to another.
But this
child has a truly indomitable spirit- the size of a continent. Perhaps that’s
why he was named Asia. In the last
session with his class, I introduced the children to timelines, and encouraged
them to draw a timeline for their own lives. Since I didn't want Asia to just
copy stuff he didn't understand, I asked his classmate to tell him to write it
in Thai, hoping we could translate it later. Mid-way he started jabbering like
a chimpanzee and suddenly, the entire class was in chaos, gales of laughter
rolling them this way and that. When I finally calmed a child down, wiped away
her tears and helped her breathe again, she translated what he’d said.
Turns out
that Asia, interpreting it in his own way, created a unique timeline. Under
each year, he listed things like ‘The year when I poo-pooed in my pants and
didn't tell my teacher’ and ‘The year I didn't take a bath for 2 weeks’. It was
hilarious. It was also enlightening. What more important events in life could
there be than the ones that make us laugh out loud? His timeline was way better
than mine. This nine year old bested me with his humor and easy confidence,
tongue in cheek the whole time.
And that’s
what defines him. A child he may be, but what is extremely striking about him
is an old-fashioned sense of self-confidence that he exudes almost unconsciously.
It's quiet. Even when it inspires wackiness, it has dignity. I can’t help but
compare it to the confidence-on-steroids that I witness often,
unfortunately more in adults than in kids. 'OMG, I'm so crazy, I'm so awesome,
I'm so weird'... OMG, Please!
It reminds
me of an old Tamil movie in which this character is on a continuous ego trip,
insufferably eager to proclaim himself 'different.' The opening scene of the
movie features his friend, his patience apparently frayed thin, asking him,
"Saapadu- vaai valiya dhaane?" (Your food- enters through your mouth
only, right?) That was sheer genius, in my opinion. It reiterates, somewhat
crudely, that we all have more in common than we like to admit. With everyone
being unique (which we are), it becomes a moot point anyway.
I saw Asia
again today. He understood pretty much nothing I told him. He just kept saying “What?”
in Thai until I clutched my head in despair. (Yes, I used the word despair
again.Get used to it). But he also made me laugh. Yes, he did make a paper airplane out of the worksheet I gave
him but what the heck, it was more useful to him that way. Who says alliteration is more important than aerodynamics? Not Asia. When he left I was
exhausted. I’d learnt enough for another day. Until tomorrow then, Asia. Go
easy on me, okay?