Boys’ classes have a way of generating energy that could power a small city. One Monday morning, as I stepped in one of my classes, the atmosphere was electric. Half a dozen conversations collided mid-air. My entrance hardly registered.
And then, as if by magic, the noise ebbed. Perhaps some unspoken instinct let order crystallise. I began briskly, “Boys, today we are tackling the kingdom of grammar- the Parts of Speech.”
One boy slouched low in his chair. But before despair could set in, a hand shot up. A boy announced with an impish smile, “Ma’am, if nouns are the names of persons, places, and things, does that make verbs their bodyguards, always serving them?”
Laughter ricocheted off the walls. I tried to remain the stern arbiter of grammar, but even I could not resist a chuckle. Another chimed in, “No. Verbs are sometimes the bureaucrats! Always making promises to act but sometimes doing nothing at all.” The room shook with mirth.
I tried to steer them back to dignity, but humour proved contagious, and the boys fuelled the glee. “Then adjectives,” quipped a voice from the front, “must be the fashion designers. They are always dressing up the nouns!” At once another boy countered, “And adverbs are their annoying little brothers, copying everything verbs do but adding too many details!”
The metaphor gained momentum. Conjunctions were soon described as “glue that never dries,” prepositions became “traffic police for nouns and pronouns,” and interjections were, naturally, “the drama kings of grammar, always shouting for attention.”
The class dissolved into noisy hilarity once more but hidden within the chaos was a peculiar order. Each boy remembered a definition. Each comparison etched the concept into minds. By the time the bell rang, we had transformed grammar into a lively parliament. Each part of speech played its role.
I smiled to myself. In that hour, the noise that had first felt like disorder had become the music of learning. Perhaps the most enduring lessons are not born in silence, but in laughter loud enough to echo grammar into memory. Humour is indeed the sly twin of wisdom. I could not have asked for a merrier miracle.
-Bhavna Elizabeth Abraham
