MY STORY OF THE GREATEST PERSON I EVER MET.

I was in my 3rd grade when my parents received a letter. I was offered an opportunity to be part a the few educated through the Cambridge, UK school systems. So there I was, youngest in my class, tossed amongst some of the most brilliant students I ever met.
We had a rank system for annual grades. There were 26 students in my class from all over the world. I tried hard. I was struggling, I think. By the 8th grade, I had to choose 8 subjects that I will learn for the next 3 years and be scored on my best 6 sunbjects. By the 8th grade, my ranking had fallen once to as low as 7th in the class. I remember the day. I had left the report card on the dining table and had gone out to play. Mom came home from work, saw the report card and called me in. I was then ordered to fetch the fattest leather belt I could find. I did find a real good one. That belt got to have carnal knowledge of me. I understood that being ranked 7th was not acceptable. I was never 7th again. Thanks mom for the spanking. It served me well for the rest of my life. Before any of you dare say a word about my mom, know that she received a scholarship to Harvard in Psychology. She knows better than you, me and any other 20 steemians combined.
At the beginning of my 9th grade I chose the following subjects:

• Literature in English
• English language
• A foreign language
• Biology
• Chemistry
• Physics
• Mathematics
• Principle of accounting.

I hated Accounting. I could always move the numbers around to get the desired results. What the book wanted me to consider an asset would never be considered an asset in any household accounting. The way I saw it, if Chelsea borrowed 20 dollars from me, then Chelsea was 20 dollars richer and the debt could not be imagined as an asset in my small head. I am all grown up now and central bankers have proven me wrong. Hmmm. Anyways, if you see Chelsea, you know what to do.
We had true geniuses in the class. I was ranked First twice in the 8 years at Cambridge. I was usually 2nd or 3rd for the other years. Of the top 2 students, one now works for NASA/ DARPA. I have no idea what he does. I know not to ask. Hey but if see my pic one day on MARS, don’t be jealous. After all he is my first cousin. The other guy started out with AOL many many years ago and moved on. I guess I am not supposed to know exactly what he does either. They are both doing good things for the country while I am taking care of people’s snot. I ended up being an Internist and Pulmonologist and Intensivists and a Diving Medical Officer. Physics though has remained my love. Maybe towards the end of my days, I would get a degree in physics and work on mysteries of spacetime. Maybe!. First I must learn to play the Violin.

My schooling was a very intense journey. Then I would have never imagined to classify it as intense. It was the normal life for every kid that I knew. You woke up at 4 am, got ready, left for school by 5.30 am. At 7 am you join the assembly. You stood in a queue and after your dress code was inspected ( white shirt, gray pants, navy blue monogrammed blazer, monogrammed tie, black shoes and black socks) and approved you sang the National anthem and then recited the prayer of St. Francis and then marched to your class. After school ended at 3.30 pm, I went over to my Physics teacher’s house where he tutored me one on one. I would get home by 6 pm. I would play eat and rest for 2 hours and then do my homework and was tutored further by another teacher till 9pm. Bedtime was 9 pm. Everyone was doing it. It was a cutthroat kid’s world. I played many sports. I did get rankings in Chess and Tabke Tennis. I was very very good. In fact for about a week in my life I thought deeply when I had to choose between Chess and Medicine. I miss chess. My background story has taken a life of its own. I shall get on with what this post is really about. I had many many great teachers in my life. This tribute is to the best of the best. Sister Mary Francis, my favorite teacher who taught me all about English language. A tall, stern, elegant and seldom bemused with my antics, the Irish nun became more of a surrogate mother to me over the years. So late in life did I truly realized her impact on my life that when I wanted to see her again she had passed on. I bet she walked on a bed of roses to meet her favorite person up in heaven. I wasn’t a catholic, nor I am now. I really did not have a religion then or now. She wrote a letter to my parents asking permission for me to attend scripture classes. Luckily my parents said yes. I enjoyed many a sessions with her over the years. She never took me to catholic prayers. She urged me to pray to whatever and whoever I believed in. She knew that God had many ways. To this day, whenever I turn to a superior power to pray, it is because of her.
My English was American. Oh, the toils and troubles I brought to her life! She worked hard to correct everything about my American English. I did well. I cherished the rules, the proper pronunciation, grammar and structure. I know by this post you can tell that I have lost most of it. The agony is mine alone. It was the value of proper language that she wanted me to understand. Speech is one of the greatest assests in life. As you build your speech skills, it builds your foundations from within. Language is what develops you. Everything else is built upon it. I wish to see more of it in American schools.
She talked to me about life. How to stand tall, how to be brave and how to stand up to bullies. I can tell you now that it had more impact on me than any other teacher telling me the same thing because her life was a reflection of her words. She lived in a world where people of her cloth did not get the respect they deserved. She stood tall, firm in her faith. It was simply amazing to know that she must been bothered inside. You could never see that on her face or tell by her actions.
The years with her were and shall remain a colossal monument to the wisdom of a woman who taught us all always to do the right thing. In despair and distress of my existence, her life, her ways and her spirit walks in front of me leading to the right path every single time.
I was in my 11th grade. If I graduated, I would be the youngest ever to have graduated. There were concerns if I could emotionally handle it. Would it cause me undue stress? Should I be allowed to wait and go through another year of schooling? There was a school board meeting. I had nothing in my favor except my grades. Or so I thought. The atmosphere was somber. The little me sat amongst the gruffly old wise men and mean looking women. After a review of my grades, Sister Mary Francis stood up and eloquently spoke in my favor forever. I can’t remember the rest because it did not matter. Within a few days I received a letter of acknowledgment accepting my application to appear in the final worldwide examination. I beat all expectations. I was at the top of the world in English language and Literature in English and shared top rankings in Biology, Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics. I am not proud of my score in Principles of Accounting. I passed it though.
Then I had to step outside into a different world. A world without Sister Mary Francis. Who was to know that she would never leave my side.
I still don’t know if there is a heaven but I have no doubt she is in heaven. You see if it did not exist, one would be created just for her.
Sister, I hope that so far and hereafter, in my own small ways, I can make you proud. Thankyou.

source

N. Inayet MD, FCCP.