Me?Teacher??? Stop it.

It started with one line:

“Just go and introduce yourself.”

Bro. Just go and what?

I was pacing around like I was about to give a TED Talk in front of aliens. That speech for the demo round? That tiny intro? Took me hours. I typed, deleted, rewrote, added a quote, removed the quote, stared at the wall, called it destiny, and cried a little. Then somehow, with a heart beating louder than sense, I walked in and gave the speech.

And they took me.

The job.

One week.

Take LKG till 7th std.

All classes.

Spoken English.

All at once.

They handed me a timetable and I swear my soul briefly left my body.

First day, I walked into the classroom and a bunch of tiny humans screamed, “Good morning, trrrr!”

I looked behind me.

There was no one there.

Oh. It’s me.

I’m teacherrrrr.

You know that moment when your inner child, outer adult, and current identity all high-five each other? Ya, that.

I didn’t know how to be a teacher.

Still don’t.

But I smiled, picked up a chalk piece like I had a PhD, and started teaching the alphabet like my life depended on it.

From LKG kids who wanted to show me their stars and stickers,

to 7th std kids who laughed at my jokes (thank you for that),

to second std kids asking “trrr, what’s your favourite colour?” in the middle of class like it was urgent…

I didn’t even realise when the job stopped feeling scary and started feeling... soft.

Of course, I was tired.

PG stress, packing, work, no time to breathe.

I wasn’t even sure if I’d get any certificate or salary—so logically, there was no reason to be so emotionally attached.

But logic doesn’t work when a kid draws you on a page and writes "best trrr" in purple crayon.

I taught every class. Every single one.

But my favourite chaos babies?

Second, Sixth, and Seventh.

We played games, made inside jokes, did hangman and hot seat games like we were all friends chilling after school.

They asked if I had Instagram. I lied and said yes. (I mean, technically true... it’s just dead.)

They peeked into the staffroom to say “bye trrrr” and blew kisses when they saw me leave.

Some came running just to say hi for 3 seconds and went back like they were on a secret mission.

I was sleep-deprived, emotionally fried, slightly stinky (no time to bathe 😭), but I still showed up.

And they did too. With tiny smiles, random compliments, drawings, questions like “Are you coming tomorrow?” and hearts too big for their uniforms.

Somewhere between trying to “just do the job” and figuring out adulthood,

I accidentally became a little part of their day.

And they became the only reason I didn’t crumble from everything else.

My heart didn’t want a goodbye.

But time doesn’t care.

So the last day, when they all shouted “Bye trrrr!”

I smiled.

Cried later.

Felt way too much for a one-week job that I almost didn’t take.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about the “job” at all.

A week of chaos, crayons, and a whole lotta love.

And in the middle of all my stress…

those little humans made me feel like I mattered.

Even if it was just for one week.

Even if they forget me soon.

I’ll remember.