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There were days in school when the timetable gods were unkind.
As teachers, we were often asked to take substitution periods—to fill in for an absent colleague. It was a necessary part of school life, but on most days, I was already juggling lesson plans, corrections, and class duties. Moreover, my subjects, English, History, and Geography, compelled me to use every minute that I had. So, substitution would mean one more period for me to teach, which was exhausting.

I dreaded substitution duty. However, instead of grumbling, I decided to make it a lighthearted experience. Whenever I walked into a class for substitution, I’d announce dramatically,
“Children, I’m invisible today! You’ll have to see through me.”

Sometimes I’d say, “Oh dear, what have I got myself into!” and pull a face, which never failed to make them laugh. It became a small classroom ritual—a way to break the ice and remind everyone that even the less exciting parts of school could have a touch of fun.

I never realised how deeply the children registered these moments until one day, as I stood outside the supervisor’s room, a boy came hurrying down the corridor. He was clearly looking for a substitute teacher, clutching the class timetable in his hand. He stopped abruptly on seeing me, tilted his head, and asked with complete seriousness,
“Miss, are you visible or invisible now?”

Instinctively, I covered my face with both hands and declared,
“Invisible… invisible!”

We both burst out laughing.

That one question captured so much—their affection, their sense of play, and the way even my offhand humour had found a place in their hearts. Sometimes, the most lasting connections don’t come from lessons we plan. They spring from small, spontaneous exchanges—the kind that make teaching such a joyful, human experience.

Often, the most visible parts of teaching are the invisible bonds we create.

💭 Reflection

“Children remember not what we teach, but how we made them feel.”

For more stories, read – The Echo of My Chalk – https://amzn.in/d/gYNvIfp