We are expected to walk into a classroom where chairs are vacant and the people meant to occupy them are crowding here and there, and keep our cool.

We are expected to understand your love for yourself and make our peace with it.

We are expected to make a note of your mood swings and not only accommodate them but act accordingly.

We are expected to hear your choice of the word for the day, when all we want to listen to is the sound of silence.

We are expected to hear about the release of a new music video, by an artist we didn’t know existed, but manage to sound excited about it.
We are expected to witness your drama and respond like that was the most real thing in life. We are expected to applaud you when you do something well.
We are expected to give you feedback so that you may improve further.

We are expected to look out for fussy eaters and food haters and insist that they eat something, when all we would like to do was fill our own plates and find a corner and down it our throats, to survive.

But…Who is taking care of our expectations? We would like to come to a class that has a teacher’s desk which doesn’t resemble a dumping ground. We would like to come to a class where the side platform doesn’t look like a railway platform. And once in a while we would like to insist that our expectations be met

We don’t mind doing this every now and then. Do you?


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