SPA Sir – A Candle That Burned for Others (782 words)

 

SPA Sir, as Ambrose was respectfully called, was a disciplinarian to the core. As a high school teacher, he was admired for his sincerity and the painstaking effort he put into shaping young minds. In return, he expected his students to listen attentively, ask questions when in doubt, and complete their homework without fail.

Punctuality and silence in class were non-negotiable for him. His sharp temper and subtle irony in remarks made students both fear and respect him. Yet, once outside the classroom, he revealed a different side, warm, gentle, soft-spoken, and courteous. Deeply God-fearing and uncompromising in upholding the values of his profession, he commanded reverence from the school management as well.

One afternoon, shortly after the lunch bell, Bhavani, a class IX student, came weeping to the headmaster’s office. Asked what was troubling her, she struggled to speak through her sobs. At last, she whispered,

“Sir, after the lunch bell, SPA Sir called me to his table. When I went near, he pulled me and touched my cheeks with both hands. I wrenched away and came straight to you.”

The headmaster looked startled. He asked if anyone else had been present. Bhavani said, “No, Sir. Everyone had left. Only my friend Sowmya was waiting for me outside the classroom, near the gate.”

With measured words, the headmaster replied,

“Do you know SPA Sir is one of the most respected teachers in this school? He is older than your father, and his reputation is flawless. Thousands of girls have studied under him, yet never has a whisper of complaint been raised. Do you understand the gravity of such an accusation? If it is false, your future will be scarred. But if you stand firm on this, I will inquire.”

Through tears, Bhavani said, “Sir, I have no witnesses. But I speak only the truth. Why would I accuse him otherwise?”

The headmaster dismissed her with a caution not to speak of the matter until his inquiry was complete.

Later, during lunch, the headmaster asked Ambrose to meet him in his office at 4 p.m. But at 3 p.m., a commotion erupted outside his room. Bhavani’s parents barged in, furious.

What sort of school are you running? Do you even know your teachers? They are womanisers! Paedophiles! Our daughter came home shaken, she says her teacher tried to hug and kiss her. Call him here, we’ll break his hands!”

The headmaster calmed them and sent for Ambrose, who arrived unsuspecting, straight from class. The teacher’s face froze when he saw Bhavani and her parents. The headmaster spoke firmly:

“Ambrose Sir, Bhavani accuses you of calling her after the lunch bell, pulling her close, and touching her. Before I could even speak to you, she went home and brought her parents. What do you have to say?”

Shaken, Ambrose raised his hands heavenward and cried, “Oh, My Lord! What sin have I committed to deserve such a false charge?”

He turned to Bhavani and asked,       

“Bhavani, I only reprimanded you for weeks of undone homework and warned that I would report you to the headmaster. You stood on the other side of my table, far from me. Why do you tarnish me my name like this? I have a granddaughter your age. Tell the truth, child!”

Her father snapped back, “No need to talk to her. Our daughter never lies. We believe her, not you.”

The headmaster, determined to seek clarity, said, “It is one person’s word against another’s. Let us ask Sowmya, who was outside.”

When Sowmya entered, the headmaster spoke privately to her:

“Sowmya, your friend has made serious accusations. Tell me honestly what you saw or heard.”

The girl hesitated but spoke clearly:

“Sir, Bhavani is my close friend, but she is lying. I heard SPA Sir scold her for not doing her homework. She talked back, and he raised his voice, threatening to report her. I peeked inside and saw her standing far away from him, across the table. She came out muttering that she would teach him a lesson.”

The headmaster then brought everyone together and repeated Sowmya’s account. Bhavani, confronted with the truth, lowered her head in shame and remained silent.

Overcome by remorse, her father fell at Ambrose’s feet:

“Sir, forgive us and forgive our daughter. Punish us as you see fit, we are ashamed.”

Ambrose, ever noble, placed his hand gently in blessing and said,

“Bhavani is young and impulsive. She acted in anger. Let us forgive her, but on one condition that she would be regular with her homework.”

That day, the dignity of a teacher triumphed over falsehood.

A good teacher is like a candle—it consumes itself to light the way for others.