The Writer's Platform

    Again, this is a NEET-centric story taking place in the same classroom but during a different subject. That subject was physics and thankfully, the lecturer was a very chill and humorous person. Humorous lecturer or not, I still had no intention of attending those classes whatsoever. Normal physics was already driving me crazy so why would I think NEET physics would be all rainbows and sunshine? The weather was breezy and cool and none of the students looked like they remotely wanted to stay for another two hours in that dimly-lit classroom (one of the tube –lights said “ Sayonara* , losers. Enjoy the lesson in the dark”). The biggest perk that day was that the lecturer was very late and we had an additional one hour for a break. The principal wasn’t in the college that day and had left early, leaving her son as the in- charge (despite being as scary as his mother, he is very chill and easy-going.). You might be thinking that I could have skipped class that day since t...

  When the first day of camp started, the kids were seemingly excited in the presence of such a well-furnished playroom. On the other hand, I was this close to calling it quits at the sight of the kids themselves. Now all the readers might be wondering why I was scared of such puny humans (some may even poke fun at me). The reason was simple; I was not sure how to build my image as a teacher in front of them. I was extremely aware of the fact that I have zero crowd-control and non-existent fluency in delivering a lecture as long as fifteen minutes.  I didn’t even know how I was going to introduce myself. Internally screaming, I make my way to the make-shift stage, and blurt out my introduction. As I spoke, I remembered that many people have had difficulty in pronouncing my name. The ‘Y’ would often be confused with an ‘L’. So, as a half-baked attempt, I made them repeat my name twice. And my eyes might have deceived me but they looked a little bit more animated and eager. I wa...

Mid-February had the outgoing second-years scrambling to finish their record books and cramming in experiments for the up-coming practicals. Students who did not yet feel confident enough to perform the experiments spent the days holed up in the labs, tinkering around with the instruments and chemicals. The other students whose records weren’t complete would sit in the classrooms, on the floor, Indian-style (since the building was new and not ready yet for the benches) while being supervised by a lecturer. These records were completed under constant laughter, gossip, scandals and general banter. Upon one of those days, we were again welcomed by a disastrous fit of insubordination. For the new readers, I have a group of eight people, four of whom were introduced in the previous post. This narrative will now include the other three members. Misaki, Sora and Fumi. Misaki is the quietest yet outrageously vocal girl in our group. She is a girl of fewer words and rarely talks about her real ...

  “That lesson was so annoying”, I said, as I put my mechanical pencil down. I was seated on the first bench, in the row by the wall. My notebook in front of me was scribbled with the day’s notes and a rather rough drawing of a girl wearing a skirt (my favorite clothing). “Yeah right”, sneered a friend seated behind me. “Isn’t that what every topper claims?”                                                              I groaned disapprovingly. Do people naturally forget that good-scorers are humans too? An ideal topper is one who has a firm grasp of a good portion of his/her stream. They should have knowledge that extended beyond the reach of marks. I, on the other hand, hammer the c...