Blast from the Class

 Last-class days are usually ho-hum. I expected only two or three students to come and listen to my instructions for a future online exam. 

I was shocked to see them all! 

Perhaps because it was the last day, even those who chose silence through the term put their larynx to work. And since I had no formal agenda, except for the instructions that were spelled out in a few  minutes, the talkies were free-wheeling. 

We talked about their plans, the weather, some politics, nuggets of wisdom, past lessons, and countless inanities that needed no brain surgery. 

Then when the final minutes came, I nonchalantly said, “Okay, goodbye for now. See you when I see you! Let’s take one last class photo.” 

And suddenly, a blast rocked my screen. From each frame sprang out faces and words that knocked me over. 

I didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, babble, or snivel. I did all. 

See, online classes are frustrating, if not heartbreaking. A teacher, who exhausts all bags of tricks to engage her students, never knows whether she is connecting or not. Body language and facial expressions that usually guide a teacher's tempo in a classroom, are non existent. Closed cameras show only grinning photos. 

That was why on this last day, I expected yawning. 

The shock wave triggered by that blast from the class blew up my senses and turned my throat into a fist. That night, like a weeping willow, I bowed down in thanksgiving for this burst of grace.