The Ever-Uplifted Honor of Teachers

Teachers are the silent architects of our nation, shaping minds and guiding futures with their wisdom and dedication. From classrooms to life lessons, they leave an indelible mark on our character and ambitions. Yet, in today's society, the respect that teachers rightfully deserve seems to be eroding, replaced by a disturbing disregard that not only dishonors them but also threatens the very fabric of our nation. This piece reflects on the influential role teachers have played in my life and expresses the deep-seated sorrow and anger I feel as I witness their growing humiliation.

This piece is a reflection on the immense influence my teachers have had on my life. From Pradeep Sir’s tough love to Kabir Sir’s guiding wisdom, each teacher shaped my journey with their lessons and mentorship. Teachers, the true architects of our nation, deserve respect and gratitude. However, as I observe the growing disregard for educators in our society, I am filled with a mix of admiration for their role and sorrow for how they are treated today.

My hatred for the Razakars was first sown in me by Pradeep Sir during my childhood. "Razakar" is not just a word; it's an ideology. Our so-called progressive artists and writers have lost the battle against this ideology, but that's a different topic to discuss some other time. Now, let me speak about Pradeep Sir. He was my secondary school teacher, and his love, support, and above all, his teaching, I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Inshallah, I will bow in respect to him until my last breath.

Walia Sir, a teacher from Domar High School, is someone to whom not just I but many of Domar's most accomplished individuals are indebted. I may be among the least deserving, but Sir's support and the lessons I learned from him sustained me during challenging times. I am equally grateful to Bablu Sir for his guidance.

Shiben Sir was a physics teacher at Domar College, and although we had him for only a brief time, the foundation in physics he laid during that short period became a guiding light in my life. Even today, whenever I remember his name, my head bows in reverence.

When I was in eighth grade, my sister Mila was in fifth grade. Priyanath Sir used to come to our home to tutor her. One day, while he was teaching Mila, he glanced at my notebook and remarked, "Milan, from tomorrow, you'll drink the water used to wash Mila's feet; maybe then your handwriting will improve." He said this in front of my parents, and they nodded in agreement.

Returning to Pradeep Sir, I made a few mistakes on the MCQ section of the scholarship exam in eighth grade. When I went to see him that afternoon, I found he had a thick stick prepared to beat me. That day, the skin on my hand split, and my bone swelled up. I didn’t even have the courage to look him in the eye—I was consumed by the shame of having failed.

Razzak Sir, a professor of English at Domar College, made me feel as though I were his own son whenever I was in his presence.

When I enrolled in B.Com at Domar College, a number of newly appointed lecturers had just joined the faculty, fresh from their BCS exams. Their youthful enthusiasm meant they still carried the scent of being students themselves, and they got along with us wonderfully. The accounting lessons I received from Habib Sir later became the foundation of my livelihood. And the words of Kabir Sir are like the words of a guru to me—advice I still live by. He said, "Milan, I won't advise you to be honest, because in these times, it's very difficult to stay honest. But if you can, try to remain honest throughout your life." My life has essentially been an attempt to live up to this advice.

I love my teachers deeply. All my respect, thoughts, and humility have blended into an enduring love for them. Today’s teachers are the colleagues of the ones I admired. My closest friend is a teacher now. My only sister is a teacher. My maternal aunt and uncle, who are like second parents to me, are also teachers. I will remain forever grateful to all the teachers of Bangladesh.

When I see teachers being humiliated nowadays, and when I see the government remaining silent in the face of this, my heart burns with rebellion. Even with a university professor in the government, I see no action being taken—no voice raised in protest. In those moments, I want to scream out loud: "O illegitimate government, either protect the honor of my teachers or be gone!"

As I look back with gratitude, I feel a deep sense of anger and sadness at the growing disrespect for teachers in our society. It is heartbreaking that in a country where educators hold the power to shape the future, they face humiliation and neglect. We have yet to see any immediate action from the government or administration regarding these dishonorable acts. The indifference of the government and the coordinators of the anti-discrimination student movement both surprises and angers us. I know it is futile to appeal to the government or administration. And if we try to stand against this crowd, the administration will resist us. Considering the mounting signs of tacit approval, it seems that these so-called mobs have the support of the current government and administration. Therefore, our disdain for the interim government led by Dr. Muhammad Yunus, its administration, the anti-discrimination student movement, and their supporters will remain.

The honor and respect that teachers command are timeless, and their influence on our lives is immeasurable. As we witness growing acts of disrespect towards educators, it is imperative that we stand by them and uphold the values they have instilled in us. It is not just about honoring individuals but about safeguarding the very foundation of our society. Let us cherish our teachers and ensure that their legacy remains ever-uplifted.

Written by:
Editor of Littlemag Akaalbodhon
Date: August 26, 2024