World begins with them, the TEACHERS
s ometimes, I would shy away from my teachers, I would even be afraid, and I wouldn’t be happy with them. I do these even today; I don’t actually want to do. I despise myself for that. Yet, these don’t gnaw off my respect and admiration for them. I love myself for this. However they may appear, they induced in me values even without classroom lessons. Their being around me itself shaped and framed my conscience. As everyone (though might not the orphans, but they too would agree) agrees, parents are my first and best teachers. A simple soft words clothed with warm smile would make me do what I won’t otherwise think I cannot, such a teacher is my lovely mom. Her fair and pretty face glowing with love and care would calm both heart and mind of mine. I wouldn’t think of any mischiefs because ‘would anyone want to bring tears to such a teacher’? My physically and mentally stout father, a teacher, is stringent with principles, indeed a disciplinarian he is. I am his best disciple, at