“The Teachers We Point At”

Especially when our fingers

are better used for a good licking

than on pointing—

we aim them anyway,

like tiny swords at chalk-stained hearts

who haven’t slept since Tuesday.

A teacher’s job is tough, you say?

Try impossible,

served daily

with a side of too many students

and too little time

seasoned with parents asking,

“Why didn’t my child get an A?”

and a dash of

“Also, can you decorate the school for Sports Day?”

Some guide 200 kids at once,

like a juggler with flaming pineapples,

on a unicycle,

and a fire alarm going off in the background.

Each child a puzzle,

each day a test of patience, of stamina,

of whether their bladder can hold till recess.

And yet,

We poke.

We prod.

We say,

“Teachers are not innovative enough!”

“Teachers need to do project-based learning!”

Buddy— they can’t even finish their own lunch-based learning.

When the MOE feels like

a moon too far to shout at,

we settle for pointing at teachers—

rocks within reach.

We poke.

We criticise.

We complain.

As if they asked for 40 eyes glazed over,

half the class unfed,

repeated 5X over,

and printers that only work when you cajole them

with sweet words and a song and dance.

But what happens

when a teacher knows—

knows—

that more than half their class is already being left behind?

Not metaphorically.

Actually.

What does that do to a human soul

tasked with lighting fires

in damp caves?

Where’s the empathy?

Where’s the help our teachers desperately need?

They have families too—

sticky-fingered toddlers,

fading-eyed parents,

piles of bills,

and a WhatsApp group titled

“PTA Nightmares (Do Not Open Before Bed)”.

And we say we couldn’t do what they do.

Because we couldn’t.

Building an AI tutor

is infinitely easier

than building a child’s confidence

from the crumbs of failure

and yesterday’s worksheet.

Still, hope lives—

in tiny, ridiculous places:

In a student whispering,

“Teacher, I understand now.”

In a crumpled thank-you note

with ‘Your the best’ misspelled,

but still deeply felt.

In a good pen.

A working fan.

A human smile.

So what can you do?

Here’s a clue:

📌 Stop pointing. Start listening.

📌 Stop assuming. Start asking.

📌 Drop off snacks. Or coffee. Or chill.

📌 Write a thank-you note. Even adults need gold stars.

📌 Push for policy change—but with them, not over them.

📌 Vote like schools matter.

📌 Raise funds for them; teachers do a better job with better tools.

Because if you want to change the moon’s trajectory,

You need more than pointing.

You need rocket fuel.

And teachers?

They’ve been burning for us long enough.