ALL WORK, NO PLAY

Our correspondent is a teacher at her son8217;s playschool and discovers it8217;s no child8217;s play

Try peeling a three-year-old off Cartoon Network when you have exactly 20 minutes to scrub him clean can8217;t be sure if he chooses to howl in the shower, shove a dosa down his throat if he spits it out, well, he spits it out, get him to step into his dungarees have to be prepared for 8216;I-don8217;t-like-dungarees8217; and drag him to school. That8217;s how I begin my weekday mornings and after I see my son off at the school gate, I walk back home with a swagger: as if I were a magician who had pulled off some stunning feat.

So when I volunteered to be a teacher for a day in my son8217;s Happy Valley Playschool in Delhi8217;s Anand Vihar, I knew exactly what I was getting into: Rishi multiplied by 20. I had never bothered to do this math for his teachers but now I shuddered at the prospect of being stuck in a room for three hours with 20 little monsters. Trust me, these kids do their best to earn the title.

9 am: I greet the principal and decide to start with Class Yellow. I hadn8217;t exactly hoped for a rousing reception but didn8217;t quite expect this either: complete indifference. A dozen 3-4 year olds are sitting on bright chairs, all in varied stages of disorientation. The principal had asked me to start with Hindi lessons. So I write random alphabets on the board and ask the class to repeat after me. 8220;A-aurat, AA-angoor, KA-kalash,8221; the class chants with me. I choose a seat beside little Kashish, a bright-eyed curly haired kid and flash my best let8217;s-be-friends grin only to get a long stare in return. Oh, all right, I get the message and get back to the blackboard. It8217;s time to match objects with letters and most of them get it bang on.

10:30: I bid the class goodbye and this time, there are loud cheers. Are they glad to get rid of me or are they being friendly? You never know8212;three-year-olds can be devilish if they choose to. Kashish still doesn8217;t like me. I move to Class Pink. It8217;s utter chaos there. The class had been divided into four groups and I sit beside two trouble-makers. Parth and Karen are engaged in a verbal pow-wow. 8220;Mein tho billi ka poonch kha saktha hoon,8221; says Parth. Karen squints hard and then after a pause comes up with something more ghoulish: 8220;Mein to kuthe kho chapathi bana saktha hoon.8221; I give them a good, hard stare and Parth and Karen get the message and get back to their seats.

11:00: Snack time. As they tuck into their parathas and peanut butter sandwiches, I watch them at it. The school wouldn8217;t let me do this bit and just as well8212;after chasing Rishi with his breakfast plate, I deserve this break.
11:30: It8217;s playtime. The children get on their compact bikes, sit on play trains and get to feed rabbits. Why, these little champs even do some mean skating. My photographer gets a rousing welcome from the kids, who scramble for exclusive photo-shoots and gamely pose with me.

12.00: I tip toe my way past my son8217;s nursery class and walk into Class Green. 8220;Good morning, ma8217;m,8221; comes an unexpected greeting. Finally, someone is glad to see me. 8220;Are you our ma8217;m,8221; asks a puzzled Kushi. 8220;No, I am your friend,8221; I say, putting on my best smile. Others did not seem to be interested.
12:40: Last bell. I have half a mind to grab my bag and make a dash for the door. But like a responsible teacher, I wait till the children are bundled into vans. I can see my son sitting patiently at entrance of his class. He is obviously pleased to see me but I8217;m not telling him what I did to earn my salary.