Subha Manoj

While I Was Away

Subha Manoj

Signature in making – Blogathon Post 25

26th August 2013
I am
wondering how very simple incidents take us back into the past lanes and bring
back very fond memories.
one of my 1st graders showed me her art book, in which alongside her
beautiful drawing was a signature. No, not that of her art teacher or her
parents. It was her classmate, a boy of 6 years. It was a ‘maturely’ written
name, with a line drawn underneath it, all done with a pen. I looked at the
young guy staring at me intently (maybe waiting to hear a bashing). I was all
smiles within my heart, but a teacher sometimes cannot smile where she is
waiting to break into laughter. He immediately said, “Maam, this is an old
sign. I don’t do it anymore.” I said ok and left it there.
later when I thought about it, it took me back to my childhood days when I was
all excited to even consider that I would have my own signature like ADULTS! I
must have been in 8th or maybe younger when I used to practise
making my own signature all the time.
It was everywhere. My notebooks, back of the textbooks, the dictionary, rough
notebooks had marks of my creativity trying to get the right signature.
As a
little girl, I used to love watching my teachers, the way they walked, talked,
corrected the notebooks and ofcourse signed them. I used to imitate them at home
and checking the notebooks of the previous academic year with red pens. I
wonder what sadistic pleasure I used to get when I used cross all the answers
and write: Poor! And then obviously
sign it. The high of using a red pen was ultimate.

when my 6 year old student tries to sign and give me the cutest of the smirk, I
know it is all a part of growing up. Been there…done that. 

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