“True education,” Mr RGL Srivastava, our English teacher, used to reflect, “is what stays with one after one has forgotten everything one learnt.” Young naughty minds then, we spent much time splitting hairs over the literal meaning of the pearl of wisdom. “If one forgets everything,” we used to argue, “nothing remains. So, there is no such thing as true education.”
Much of what my teachers, which includes my parents, sister and brothers, taught me, has stayed with me and shaped the way I think and work. The lessons were not limited to classrooms and textbooks. They were about curiosity, discipline, and integrity, and more importantly, about the spirit in which knowledge should be pursued. Those values, slowly absorbed, became part of who I am.
Today, when I stand before students as an adjunct faculty member and honorary Professor of Practice, I often find myself trying—however modestly—to emulate my own teachers. I try to make learning engaging. A class may begin with an anecdote, a little-known fact from the history of science, or a challenge that students cannot resist attempting. Sometimes there is a small surprise reward for solving a quiz—a pen, perhaps, or a book.
It brings excitement to the classroom. The students participate, question, and occasionally throw back a challenge. By the time the formal lecture begins, the atmosphere is already alive with curiosity. It is fun for them and me alike. I find each teaching experience rewarding in some way.
On this journey I continue to learn from seniors whose profession is teaching. One such person is Dr Devendra Singh, the erudite Head of the Mechanical Engineering Department at AK Garg Engineering College in Ghaziabad, whose passion for teaching is unmistakable.
One afternoon last month, we were exchanging notes over a cup of tea in his office when a student walked in. She was a resident student, a hosteller.
“Jai Hind, Sir,” she said politely. “I’ve come to request approval for a night out-pass. My mother is visiting Ghaziabad to see my local guardian who is unwell. I’ll stay with them over the weekend.”
It sounded like a routine request. I expected the form to be signed without much discussion. Instead, Prof Singh asked her to call her mother. “I just wish to speak with her,” he said.
To me, it appeared to be a rather cautious approach. I wondered, if it was really necessary to treat a young adult that way. I got my answer soon; in the very next minute.
The telephonic conversation between the mother and Prof Singh revealed that the student’s LG wasn’t unwell. Also, her mother was not scheduled to visit Ghaziabad any time soon. The student had simply wanted to spend the weekend with friends—something disapproved by the parents. The request was declined without drama, and the student withdrew quietly.
Later Dr Singh remarked that the student’s body language had made him suspicious. “Giving students freedom while ensuring they don’t stray into trouble is difficult these days,” he mused. “It was much easier when we were students,” he chuckled as he recalled an incident from his own days as a student in the late 1980s at the Motilal Nehru Regional Engineering College in Allahabad.
On a frivolous issue, a few students had instigated a strike and encircled the main building with the intention of causing nuisance. They were pressing unreasonable demands and seemed to be on the verge of going on a rampage. Slogans of “Zindabad… Murdabad…,” had filled the air.
At that moment, the proctor, Prof SM Goel stepped out of the main building and walked up daringly to the agitated crowd. Standing on the steps above them, he raised his hand to quieten the noise. Just as the students seemed ready to listen, one self-styled leader shouted dramatically, “If our demands are not met, we will immolate ourselves!”
Professor Goel, a habitual smoker, happened to be holding a lit cigarette. Without losing his composure he said loudly, “I have come to settle your problem. But if someone still wishes to immolate himself, here is a can of petrol—pour it over yourself… and here is the light.” He flashed the lit cigarette in his hand.
The effect was instantaneous. The crowd dispersed, and the fiery leaders vanished.
Prof Singh cited the incident in the lighter vein. Yet behind the humour lay an important lesson about authority, wisdom, and the ability of a teacher to influence young minds in a moment of confrontation.
Our conversation then drifted to how education has changed over the decades. There was a time, he recalled, when engineering colleges in places like Roorkee and Muzaffarnagar produced some of the finest engineers in Asia. Placements were so abundant that in one instance the placement rate exceeded one hundred per cent—some students received offers from several companies.
Campus life had its own informal discipline. Seniors did not merely dominate juniors; they mentored them. They taught them how to conduct themselves, even basic table manners. Walking into the dining hall improperly dressed invited silent disapproval.
“Now,” he said with a smile, “I find myself on the other side of the fence—teaching. I enjoy it far more than my years in the corporate world.” Listening to him, I was reminded again of my schoolteacher’s words about true education. Theoretical knowledge may fade, facts may blur, and textbooks may gather dust. But the values, habits, and examples set by impressionable teachers continue to dispel darkness and illuminate our lives.
Note: Here are two of the quizzes my students and I had fun solving.
Road Much Travelled 