THE LITTLE WHISTLER (TALES OF INCLUSIVITY) #WriteAPageADay

 

                                                                  Depositphotos

He was a tiny little boy, large-eyed and plump. One would look at him and fall in love with his innocent looks, be tempted to give him a hug even. The first time he came to school, he held back, a bit overwhelmed by the number of students milling about, talking to a dozen. They were all friends and had created their own groups, monarchs of all they could survey.

The little boy took his time to blossom out. He found one or two friends who accepted him whole-heartedly, but there were myriad others who poked fun at him for his chocolate-boy looks. The most hurtful barbs came from the rough and tough fellows, who considered themselves the dadas of the class and looked down upon anyone smaller than themselves.

“Hey, you, cupcake!” they would hail him. “What does your mother feed you on? Cream cheese? Butter?” They would poke him in fun and their fingerprints would show against his fair skin. On some days, it got so bad that he did not want to go to school. He felt like an outsider, almost an outcast, but because he was quiet, no one actually realized what was going on in his mind.

One day, the English class was going on and the teacher was explaining about birds and their warbles. She was trying to explain how certain birds whistle, when suddenly, a low whistle sounded in the class. Shocked, she looked around, and the whole class gazed back at her, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. As she continued the lesson, another whistle was heard, and then another.

“Who is whistling in class?” she asked sternly.

The little boy stood up in a fit of bravado.

“Don’t you know it is against the rules to whistle in class?” she said, a frown on her normally sunny face.

“Yes, ma’am!” was the answer. The other children glanced at him and smiled. They were enjoying the break.

“Good boy!” came a whisper and he turned around, startled, only to see one of the bullies grinning at him. The bell rang and the teacher left after one more warning. The whole class gathered around the little boy.

“That was cool! How did you learn to whistle like that?” one girl asked him, admiration in her eyes.

Overnight, the little boy turned into a hero. The class encouraged him to whistle popular songs, which he did melodiously. The admiration went to his head, and he began to whistle in class, even when lessons were going on. When a particularly dry subject was being taught, the boys sitting in front would turn to him and raise their eyebrows. That was the signal, and off he would go, whistling a tune which would enliven the whole period, and ensure that nothing was taught.

So, the same boy who had been ostracized by almost the whole class had now turned into a semi-hero due to his prodigious talent. He could render any tune that he heard, and while he received attention from all his friends, his teachers did not appreciate his talent.

Mathematics periods hummed to the tunes of Rang De Basanti, Hindi poetry found ghazals being played in the background. English was the one period the little boy loved, but even so, he would whistle and play the livelong day, as the old song went, and even his favourite teacher began to get tired of him.

Matters came to a head one morning when all the teachers made a beeline to the Director’s office.

“Yes, ladies, what can I do for you?”

The lone gentleman peeped out from the back.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you, Sir. What is the reason for this group appearance?”

The teachers poured out their hearts, and as they spoke, a twinkle appeared in the eye of the Director, a venerable lady in her eighties who had the heart of a child herself.

“Very good! Isn’t it wonderful to have a boy with such talent in our school?” she beamed at them.

The group fell silent, glanced at one another. Then one teacher spoke up, “But, Ma’am, he disturbs the whole class. We are unable to teach and as a result, our portions have not got over.”

The Director nodded thoughtfully.

“Do send the boy to me. In fact, call him right away.”

In two minutes, the young whistler was brought before her. He looked apprehensive as coming into the lion’s den was a rarity.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” he ventured timidly.

“Good morning. I believe you whistle beautifully?”

The teachers glanced at one another again. “Beautifully” was not the adverb they would have wanted to use.

The boy’s face lit up. “Yes, Ma’am!” he replied.

“Who taught you to whistle?” she asked.

“I learnt it from my uncle. He whistles even better than me, Ma’am,” came the prompt answer.

The Director nodded. Then she made a surprising request. “Why don’t you and I both whistle together? Which song should we chose?”

The little boy could not stop smiling.

“How about ‘Doe, a deer’, Ma’am?”

The two of them took off, whistling the old favourite from The Sound of Music as the teachers watched on, flabbergasted. At the end of the recital, the Director turned to the teachers. “Come on, now, do give us a round of applause!”

It was a scene that was never forgotten by any of them. The older lady gave the little boy a bear hug and said. “You are extremely gifted. We must have a few shows in which you can show off this rare talent of yours.”

The teachers waited with bated breath. How would they ever be able to control the young man now, they wondered.

The Director’s next words were like balm to their hearts.

“You need to preserve your talent and practice as much as you can. However, not in school and definitely not during classes because then, you will disturb everyone. Will you promise not to do that anymore?”

The little boy nodded, his eyes ablaze with enthusiasm. “Yes, Ma’am, I promise.”

The teachers heaved a collective sigh of relief. As the little boy turned to leave, the Director said softly, “When you feel like whistling, come to my office and we will whistle together, OK?”

The huge smile on the boy’s face revealed how wonderful he was feeling.

After he left, the Director smiled at her teachers. “I think he has understood what he needs to do. There are times when we must let go, and times when we must rein the children in. It is up to us to weigh the odds and make decisions accordingly. The little boy did this to feel accepted amongst his peers. Now he has realized that he must be accepted by his teachers as well. I don’t think we will have any more issues with him.”

The little boy turned into even more of a hero in the eyes of his classmates when he narrated what had happened.

As for the teachers, they learnt a significant lesson in the gentlest way possible, one that they would nurture within their hearts for a long period of time.

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