I volunteer at Meri Pathshala twice a week. I am a grandmother of three, and perhaps that is why I notice small things children do that others may miss. That is how I noticed Vijay. He reminded me of my youngest grandson. Restless. Energetic. Curious.
Always ready to run before anyone finished a sentence.
Sitting still was simply not possible for him. When I tried to read with him on the first day, he slid off the mat three times in five minutes. He was not being difficult. His body just needed to move. So, I changed the plan.
Instead of making him sit, we read while walking.
One line for one step. Another line for another step.
Sometimes we paced around the entire classroom with the book open between us.
Slowly, something shifted.
His breathing settled.
His eyes stayed longer on the words.
The movement helped him focus, not distract him.
Two months later he sat and read for ten whole minutes without getting up.
When he finished, he said, “Aunty, today my legs did not disturb me.”
I smiled so much that day.
As I watched Vijay improve, I found myself thinking about all the teachers I have known over the years. Forty to fifty children in one classroom. Different learning levels. Limited time. Pressure to finish the syllabus. It is not that teachers do not care. They simply do not have the space to stop everything and walk around the room reading one line at a time with one child.
That is when I realised the true value of Meri Pathshala. These small interventions that feel simple and personal can change a child’s entire relationship with learning. And these moments, which may be impossible in a crowded classroom, become possible here.
At 68 yrs., I thought I understood children well. But Vijay reminded me of something I learned long ago while raising my own grandchildren. Children do not always need stillness. Sometimes they need movement to find focus. And when we meet them where they are, learning becomes possible.
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