“She is a terror”; “She is patently despotic”; “She doesn’t love anybody” – these were some of the words my seniors used to describe about Sister Jacob at school. My sister gave me a different testimonial though (My sister loved Sr. Jacob and she too loved my sister a lot). I felt it difficult to believe my sister in this aspect. I too, just like my seniors developed fear for her. Sr. Jacob was short, dark, and stout. She wore glasses that gave her the look of an authentic school teacher.
While at assembly her mere presence brought complete silence. During lunch breaks too, she used to move around to find traces of indiscipline among students. We always made an orderly entrance into the Hindi class since her room was immediately next to the Hindi class.
I had been part of the school choir. While singing, she would make a sudden appearance to hear all of us sing. The moment somebody giggles or talks, she would yell at them and throw them out of the group however well they might be singing. None of us dared to open our mouth except for singing when we realise that she is there to inspect.
The subject that she handled was English for Class 9 and 10. She was too good at it. During school assembly, if she noticed children using bad English, she would stop them immediately by saying, “stop using your pocket English”. Most of us preferred to shut our mouth the moment we notice her in our vicinity. When I was promoted to Class 9, I was too unhappy because I knew that she would be handling English class. In the normal course, English classes were fun period for us. We always had wonderful teachers for English who would not insist much on homework or ‘reading aloud’ stuff. But we knew that Sr. Jacob would be demanding too much from us. We were praying that she should somehow refrain from taking classes for us. And the miracle happened. It so happened fortunately for us that our Principal was transferred to another school and Sr. Jacob became the Principal. As a Principal her responsibilities increased and as a result she could manage to handle only Class 10. We rejoiced over this.
But the time came when we were promoted to 10th grade. No miracle happened this time. She became our English teacher. No escape!
The first annoying thing she did was a separation between Anu (one of my best friends) and me. She changed our sections. The entire school knew that Anu and I were best friends. We were always seen together. She shifted Anu to ‘A’ section and me to ‘B’ section. We both cursed her enough for this. English class thus began with such distress in my mind.
But the fear and dislike I had for Sr. Jacob did not continue for long. I began to agree with my sister. I really started admiring the way she handled the class. The class always maintained pin drop silence whenever she took class. That made me highly attentive in the class. I marveled at her approach towards the subject. I had never required a teacher’s assistance to write an English examination until that point. But she made me depend on her for ideas as to how to effectively prepare for an English exam. She discouraged reproducing words from the text. She encouraged building our vocabulary. She made us innovate with every lesson. She made us work out every illustration in the text book. She made us divide ourselves into groups and discuss about what we understood. She would ask us to write what we understood involving the inputs of our group members. She would then give us role-play. Most of the students who were weak in English and who disliked discussions continued hating her. But I simply fell in love with her. There was one another classmate of mine by name Jayadevi who too loved her incessantly.
Poems were taught beautifully by Sr. Jacob. I just couldn’t stop wondering why she should confine her to the rooms of a school when she had the ability to handle English literature for college students. Once she taught us “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. What a wonderful poem! And what wonderful explanation to it! I still remember the last few lines –
“The woods are lovely dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep..”
The last 2 lines (the repetition) in poetic terms is called a refrain. The core of the poem is the last 4 lines. It was a definite ERC (Explain with Reference to the Context) question whenever she set the question paper.
Her method of conveying was commendable. I simply felt like attending her class alone for the rest of my life. She also taught us “Daffodils” by William Wordsworth. More than Wordsworth’s poem, I appreciated how well Sr. Jacob had managed to set it into our minds. I simply loved her and she knew that I loved her. She also made a mention in my autograph book that I was a super star in her class. I still cannot forget those lines in my autograph book. They are priceless words transferred by a person of high intellect to a simple person like me.
She also encouraged me to write poems. Being inspired by Wordsworth’s ‘Daffodils’, Jayadevi and I made an attempt to write a poem sitting in the small garden of our school. We employed rich words and compiled a poem and showed it to her and won her credit. I feel that I should have preserved that piece of paper today. She pinned up high hopes on me. She wanted me to get educated in Cambridge University.
She taught us Grammar too. She used to explain them very well to us. Once she taught figure of speech - simile and metaphor and the difference between the two. She told us that we should never forget this at all and that she would come and ask us the difference between a simile and a metaphor on the day of our marriage. The example she gave was “He fought like a lion in the battle” – this was an example for simile and “He was a lion in the battle” – this was for metaphor. It has been 8 years since I am married now. I am still ready to answer her and so is my sister. Now where is Sr. Jacob to ask us this question?
Sr. Jacob was a pioneer in various fields. She used to handle office administration effectively as a responsible principal. She handled English classes for us. She used to organize various events and activities at school. She used to collect donations from wealthy people for the upbringing of our school. She used to monitor the other teachers of our school and had handled complaints from parents. She was too nice and sweet with all the parents. She was a simple person wearing a white robe on all days. Her life revolved around the convent and the chapel there. She hardly saw the world outside her. Once when I told her that I don’t want to get married, she asked me if I am also going to be a nun like her. At that point I did not give it a big thought and said that I would become a nun. But today, if I sit and note the sacrifices that one has to make to become a nun, I realize that it is never a joke to be a nun and I would never be able to do it either.
There was not a single person who would have escaped from writing the imposition that she often asked us to write – “I am an irresponsible idiot”. Yes, even I have written it too (A hundred times). Once she asked the entire class to write it when we could not maintain silence during the absence of a teacher. But my sister has escaped from it (didn’t I tell you that they both like each other so much?). She knew that most of the children were scared of her and never had good remarks about her. There were only few like my sister and some others like me who understood her true worth.
I had wondered what happiness would mean to her when I once saw her removing her spectacles and wiping tears away. I prayed to God for her that day. It was disturbing to see her like that. I knew that she prayed for our welfare everyday. Our batch created record of bringing the highest marks in the history of the school. She was too excited. All of her favourite students decided to make a visit to the school every year. But unfortunately, it never happened. All of us moved to different places in pursuit of establishing a career. We eventually lost touch with her. Anu gave me the sad news of her death some years back. I shed some tears for her. But I regret not having met her after my school life. I wish I had.
In this world where people pursue career as a part of making money, there existed my one and only Sr. Jacob who was so dedicated to what she was doing without being paid. Isn’t this called true service?
In a small town like Salem in Tamil Nadu where only Tamil is widely spoken, nobody would have imagined that there once lived a lady who imparted a foreign language so vividly to various children to that extent that they could manage a life abroad easily. Many thanks to you Sister; I loved you for what you were. But for you, I wouldn’t have developed a flair for English language.
How happy she would be if she comes to know that I have dedicated a blog exclusively for her! Who knows, maybe she is reading my blogs from the balconies of heaven!
