Wishing everyone a Happy Valmiki Jayanti! May the teachings and philosophies of Valmiki enlighten our lives and guide us to a better tomorrow.

Ebony Adams I am Dedicated, caring and responsible, educational professional deeply committed to supporting teachers and Students, with in special educatiol, as well as inclusive class rooms. I am Patient, upbeat and creative, in tailing instruction to meet individual student needs and also there learning styles.

My wedding was in June, 2020 just after quarantine. Every woman does want to have a baby and lives with passion of beacoming mom. So did I. I had to wait almost 6 months to get pregnant. When I appeared to know that I was pregnant I was over the moon. I can't say I had really hard time during pregnancy. I was just sensitive to the smells so I couldn't cook meals and nothing more. However, I didn't know how hard days were waiting for me. At the end of May, 2021 I was informed that baby's water was gone and almost non left. We made several chech-ups but the answers were the same. So I had to go to the hospital. My baby was too small to be born but the doctors decided to take it out after five days of treatment otherwise it was really dangerous for me and baby. Because my temperature was getting higher and higher. They took my baby out by caesarean section in 29th week of pregnancy. It was too small that could not breathe itself. My mother prayed for me and baby all the time, my parents did everything they could so that I and my baby would get better and let it live. After a week baby started breathing himself. It was the biggest happiness for the whole family. We were at the hospital for about a month. Then we went home holding my baby in my arms. Thanks God he is now a healthy boy. He can run, jump, say several words, understand everything he hears, play with his dady and he loves his little brother, too.

I have seen in my own experience that the Covid-19 has had a strong impact not only on people's lives, but also on the economy and education. It was the year I started working at the school after just graduating from university. Since I did not have experience of working with school students, I mainly took classes from primary school and less senior classes to teach. It was just my first year of working at the school. I was having my fair share of challenges working with pupils of varying learning abilities. In order to help them, I had to work with pupils who have difficulty in learning for free. When it was the last weeks of the third quarter, which is the longest study quarter in the schools of Uzbekistan, a week-early vacation for all kinds of schooling was announced that people infected with Covid-19 were also detected in the territory of Uzbekistan. The vacation lasted for several weeks, and the prohibition of going out became stronger as the days passed. In such days, I began to think about such questions like "what will happen to school education?" "How to continue studying?" As the most of my school children were small, there was a high possibility that they would forget their knowledge if they were not engaged for a while. When it became clear that the situation would not improve for a long time, it was decided that school education would be continued online, and teachers of each subject prepared and broadcast video lessons on television. In addition, we prepared topic explanations and gave tasks as video lessons and shared them with the students, and checked the tasks they completed all through the Telegram network. The course of the lessons in this form was a convenient environment for students to copy from each other, at the same time to get grades without studying and effort. This could be seen from the fact that many students (of course, not all) did the tasks and exercises in the same way. It was especially noticeable among primary school pupils. However, warning parents about preventing plagiarism could not help much. This was how the last quarter and the 2019-2020 academic year ended, and the students went on summer holiday. On September 19, which was the beginning of the new academic year 2020-2021, students started going to school following the sanitary rules. In the process of learning new themes with students, the fact that pupils could not master the lessons well during online classes had a strong impact on their ability to understand new topics. Because in the textbooks, the themes are always arranged step by step to study, depending on each other. As older students, who had had less difficulty, developed independent learning skills, it caused elementary school children could not understand the new lessons that during quarantine they had not been able to learn the topics in live examples during face-to-face lessons with the teacher. Their lack of understanding led to the fact that they had missed a lot of knowledge without mastering it, and as a result, the students' knowledge decreased. Not having live lessons with schoolchildren, especially elementary students, brought many difficulties and problems to teachers too. Despite the fact that the quarantine is now completely over, teachers are experiencing the difficulties of filling the "void" in the minds of many students. Because the greatest failures of the future will come because of the poor quality of education today. For this reason, the responsibility of successful future forces teachers to eliminate the problems caused by Covid-19.

My school library is frozen in time. A living encapsulation of the anxiety and nervous energy that feverishly descended upon my school during the week of March 9th, 2020. The library, with its cheery Saint Patrick's Day decorations hanging from the ceiling, amidst a cart of books waiting to be shelved, pays homage to all that we have lost; a reminder of swift and bitter change. I spent Friday March 13th, the last day schools were open in New York, in a hyper anxious state, feeding off the giddy nervous energy emitted from my students and colleagues. Misinformation swirled. Rumors birthed out of fear crackled in the air with a reluctant forbearance that our lives were being altered by a force beyond our control. As the final bell rang that Friday at 2:43 p.m. I hastily grabbed what I thought I would need to work from home. Surely there was no need to take down the Saint Patrick's decorations, we would be back in a week. Besides, waiting in line to “stress shop” for toilet paper and meat proved to be a much more pressing issue than some silly green decorations. Today, with no end in sight, the library remains a time capsule, a reminder of the day before everything changed. The day before my elderly parents came to my house to wave goodbye as we sat safely on the steps, crying from over six feet away. A reminder of the last time my four-year-old son saw his friends in person and greeted the sunrise without fear. A reminder of the last time I was able to sit alongside a student to refine a research paper or banter about weekend plans and college decisions. A reminder that this is now our new normal, as we do our best to teach, parent, love and persevere amidst COVID-19 and its heavy veil of uncertainty.

What Do We Teach By Our Words & Actions Sometimes, I wonder where the village went. We are not neighbors watching out for one another. Some say Marriage isn't important. So we teach our children commitment and vows (a covenant) to one another isn't important. Still others believe treating each other with respect is not important. So we teach our children disrespect and treating others in a demeaning manner is acceptable. Treating people fairly is not important. We teach our children one is better than the other. When we chose to neglect the teachings or follow what God has put into place, we teach our children. God is not important. A six year old asked her mother if she went to church. Her mom told her that she didn't believe that. The child said you need to love God, know your minister and love Jesus. The mother said that she was glad the child believed it but mom didn't believe it and didn't need it. The child finally told her mother, "I'll pray for you." Mother said she had to hang up and go to work. We are all in need of the faith of this 6yr old child. When you do what you want to do, because if it feels good, do it, without regard for the teachings of a merciful and gracious Father, the village and the children do not learn what true and everlasting love is. Be in prayer for this child's parents. (True story/phone call) Father, for the men and women who chose the worldly approach of "just do it", and not your teachings, I ask that you draw them to yourself. Surround the children with people in their lives that they will learn about your love and the village will grow stronger. I pray for the marriages that are strong to gain more strength in faith. The marriages that are struggling, they would come to you, together, as they refocus as they grow in love, commitment and strength in You. A Journey Through Grace By An Ordinary Woman- Cheryl

THE TEACHER There was once a small school, located right within the heart of a small yet endlessly flowery prairie. It was not something flamboyant, only a timid marriage of rocks and bricks, happily constructed and designed to serve as a cover for our heads, when it was raining or when the sun was attacking us with his love rays. That school only had one teacher, and its sole students was me and another girl. We were not always the best example of students, usually coming without having done our daily homework, or with albeit adequate preparation for our courses; though we always wanted to attend, because the teacher always had something new to present to us. He had his special way to make us feel right at home, his speech was magical, his manners were impeccable, his presence being monumental to our very souls. I can still remember the day he told us that we humans, are equal to the other beings of nature, and that we are the only ones who have the need to go to school, because we have to train ourselves to be polite and generous, whilst the other animals are being grateful from birth. At first, I was scratching my head when I tried to decode his message, but now that I am old enough, I know he was right. Another day, we were trying to do an exercise in mathematics. The girl right next to me, was excelling at it, and proudly answered with haste his questions, smiling cheerfully to his beaming visage. I was not doing so good, stuffed with stress and anxiety that I would probably fail. In the end, I also answered, but what surprised me was him announcing us that we both passed with flying colors. “But, we made very different choices and picked diametrically opposite answers mr. Alex” I told him. “How can this be possible?” The teacher left us speechless. “Every answer is a matter of perspective, my boy” said the teacher. “For example, your colleague wrote that 1+1 =2, which is correct, I ‘ll wager. I have to admit, though, that you, son, advocate that I+I = II, which is also right. Either you write that as 2, or as 11, I am only interested that you support your thoughts with zeal and reason. That is the meaning of life”, he pointed at us. Some other day in the calendar, he took us up to the hills that were overlooking the great blue lake of our village. His eye color was identical with that of the lake. The vista was mesmerizing, both in his eyes and in the scenery, and his teaching was so soothing in our hearts. He told us that we must love our family, and honor our mother, for she was the towering of our future, and would always be there for us. We took heed and as we walked back to our class, he stopped us and kneeled in front of us. “Take a flower from me, and put it each in your pockets, and when you go back to your mother, give it to her as a present, as I can't do that. Please remember that she is the garden with the roses, and you are the raindrops of water that this garden so desperately needs to flourish”. That afternoon, we returned home filled with joy, and sadness as well. Joy because we realized that the teacher was right, and we hugged our mother like octopuses that stick to a submerged anchor. She also seemed delighted to see us act like that. But, as our hands reached our pockets, we realized the roses were not actually there, at least in physical form. That is, because our teacher, was ethereal, invisible. What that means? In fact, he was not a teacher, but a captain. That was his real-life profession. But having sailed over all the corners of the earth, he always had great deeds to tell us. And, because our school needed a teacher, he gladly offered to be our teacher. Well, our school, that harmonious amalgamation of stones, bricks and a handful of concrete, in reality was our home. The girl next to me in class, my colleague, was my sister. And what about that captain, then? Who was he? That moustache wielding champion, was our father, who passed away years ago. However, his ethics and lessons were still following us, and his presence was right next to us, watching us over. His reign as a king to our hearts will still live on, and we will never forget him, as he captained our lives with wisdom and honor. A teacher, is a beacon of light and hope. We all need a teacher. We all need a father. Our father. And he was the best teacher of them all.

Squinting, she shielded her eyes in the mid-morning heat. The African landscape did not change, which was the case for every other day. Today, a group of 5 and 6-year-olds from the valley trudged wearily uphill as she sat under the canopy of the majestic ancient Oak tree. The 7-year-old teacher blinked at the fissures in the sun-baked earth. This year the drought was especially severe and the sugar-cane stalks stood withered and depleted from the long dry spell. Her students were tired, but their eyes shone bright with enthusiasm as they approached her. “Good day, Madam,” they chimed in unison and burst out in little-girl giggles. Sam, the brat of the pack, and the only boy in the group, leaned against the trunk, and rubbed the salty perspiration filling his eyes. They appeared a little bloodshot and he blinked hard. The girly chatter was not a point of interest to him. Momentarily, the group sat down for a lesson on counting and writing. Today the weather lashed out mercilessly in a different way. The wind howled through the copper pipes and the spooky whistling sounds of a haunted house movie permeated the public school building. Dove studied the group of kindergärtners sitting at their polished wooden desks. It was a far cry from thirty odd years ago under the old Oak tree. Her dream to be a teacher had finally been realized. Madam Dove was going to change the world. Just as she turned to write the sight word for the day on the chalkboard, Dove saw quick movement in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped sharply just in time to catch Lesedi push a tiny, tightly rolled paper ball into Taylor's ear. “Lesedi!” shouted Dove. The shock of being caught out caused him to abruptly pull back his hand; feigning innocence. “Mam, Mam! My ear!” screamed Taylor as she came rushing to the front of the class. Dove slowly and quietly counted to ten as she calmly took Taylor's hand. The first day of the second term was not going exactly as planned. Deal with removing the paper ball first, and the naughty kid a little later. For now, Lesedi will be on time-out. It was a good thing the paper ball could be removed easily. Lesedi was promptly reprimanded, and counselled on the dangers of putting anything in another child's ear or anyone's ear for that matter. As the day progressed, the mishap of the morning seemed to have faded into the distant past and all appeared to be going smoothly. At 1:06 pm, Vuyo's middle brother, Unathi, came in to fetch him as this was the custom after the last bell rang promptly at 1:00 pm. Shortly after they left, Vuyo's oldest brother, Kani, came to class looking for him. He was accompanied by the driver of their taxi. Dove looked puzzled and explained that their brother, Unathi, had been in earlier to fetch Vuyo which was the standard arrangement. By this time, both Kani and the driver seemed confused and a little agitated. Apparently, the younger boys were nowhere to be seen. Kani and the driver, still looking baffled, left in search of Vuyo. Soon a harried looking administrator came rushing into the classroom. The boys were missing. And so began a chain of events that would forever be stamped in Dove's mind. While still energetic and conscious of the benefits of a healthy lifestyle, Dove was not as lithe or supple as when she was in her youth. One look followed by a sharp command from the administrator was enough to set her legs in motion. Cagney, a colleague from the class next door accompanied Dove on the mission for the search of young Vuyo and his brother. In the next forty minutes, Dove and Cagney ran through the brambles and bushes adjoining the school. Frantic calls for the boys could be heard echoed in the wind in the undergrowth. When they reached the neighboring elementary school, they dashed through the closing gates in time, and any hope of finding the boys was short-lived. Realizing the gates were already locked for the day, Dove and Cagney scaled the over 9 foot wall. As they barely made it over, a voice could be heard shouting, “Come! The boys are safe home! They walked home.” When a bedraggled Dove and Cagney finally returned to school, they were met by a relieved administrator wearing a sheepish grin. “Their mom called to say they had walked home.” Dove sat down heavily on the grass and sighed with relief. Thank God the boys were safe. That over 9 foot wall was nothing compared to the joy of knowing the boys were safe home. Every year thousands of children go missing. This is a rampant global problem which affects the lives of people from all sectors of society. As a teacher and mother, I would not wish this on anyone. I can only try to imagine the pain and agony of a parent whose dreams are haunted by that of a missing child.

“Seven years old and living my life on a sugar-cane plantation. My brothers are the pain of my existence in this beautiful world. Oh, but I have a dream,” were my daily musings. Roaming the dusty, roughly hewn roads on the sugar-cane plantation, my perspective on life was very limited and perhaps a bit twisted. Sure, our siblings can be a bit of a pain, but I had learned that I had it all wrong. They were actually the “bane” of my existence. My older, city-bred and worldly-wise cousins, often used that phrase when referring to their parents, siblings and even teachers. The truth is that I loved my siblings and my family. Dreams were few but as vast as the fields of cane swaying in the gentle breeze as the sun dipped below the horizon in the dusky African skies. The grass felt warm on the hillside as I lay down, hands clasped behind my head, and legs stretched out. The stars would soon come out and I had to be home. My friends, Valerie and Bobbie, jostled each other as they lay beside me. Life was carefree and uncomplicated. In the valley about half a mile away, the first lights twinkled in the early evening. The lamps were being lit and mother was not going to be pleased with my tardiness. She had forewarned me of the consequences of getting home after dark. It was not safe. My younger brother had run home about an hour before the first lights came on. But not before admonishing me on what a brat I was for not listening to my parents. I jumped up and ran home as fast as my legs could carry me with Valerie and Bobbie following hot on my heels. Dreaming was pointless, and wasn't going to help any when the spanking came a bit later. Nonetheless, I had many such days, and many such dreams. My great grandparents were indentured labourers on the British-owned sugar-cane plantations. They were brought to South Africa from India in nineteen hundred and three. That's right, they were brought, or should I say enticed into leaving their homeland under false pretences. One story narrated down through the generations was that my ancestors were led to believe that money grew on trees. It was disgusting and shameless for the British to use such tactics. I reckon it made our people like fools; so gullible. Despite a history entrenched in slavery, I believed there was a greater purpose in all of this. I grew up with the notion that nothing good could come out of abject poverty, and dreaming passively shielded the unattainable. Despite the lamentable circumstances, and the opinion of egotistical society and family, we were taught to love God, respect our elders, have a strong work ethic, be generous and show compassion to the less fortunate. Many of the children living in the village went to work in the fields by the time they turned twelve. I was 7 and dreamed of becoming a teacher one day. A good one if I tried really hard. Peace was a façade in those years. There were times when I would wake up with a jolt to the sound of raised voices in the middle of the night. Accusations of infidelity could be heard being hurled at my mother while she was brutally beaten. It was my father. A few times I stood in horror, watching helplessly, while she moaned in pain on the floor. There was a deep rage as he swore profusely and struck her with a wooden rod. I screamed and tried to defend her, but her shoved me aside and told me to stay out of it. Since the day it became household knowledge of my mother's alleged infidelity, my father became unrelenting in his quest for vengeance. About a month after my twelfth birthday, my father suffered a massive heart attack while taking a bath. Gone at fifty. When I turned thirteen, I learned that my mother had been an unfaithful wife. My father had found her in a compromising position with his seventeen year old nephew after an aunt's funeral. How do I understand that his broken heart was venting the rage that eventually led to his demise? He abused my mother! Did that make it right!? I wanted to scream! It was not fair on me or my siblings. But life isn't always fair. My teenage years were some of the worst of my life. High school was a nightmare. Besides being convinced that my teachers hated me, my mother began an illicit affair that lasted almost 2 decades. The feelings of insecurity and rejection overwhelmed me. The pain made me detest my life. Suicide seemed to offer the redeeming escape from a cruel and useless life. Leave me alone. The overdose of sleeping tablets failed. I was found slumped in the school bathroom. From the hidden recesses of a wounded and weary soul, the light of a dream from long ago began to reignite. It took the stirrings of a wise, compassionate and God-fearing heart to see the potential for greatness in brokenness. She funded my studies to become a teacher. Forty-four years later- I'm in the sixth year of living my childhood dream. Sometimes dreams have to die before they can be resurrected. Restoration follows after great loss.

I started teaching ESL when I was eighteen years old at a private elementary and secondary school. It wasn't a decision I would have made if it wasn't for my dire need to pay rent in South America during a stay there for familial matters. Even so, after having completed the elective year, I decided that teaching was something I wanted to make into a career aside from my writing. It all stems from one source - my passion for the English language. However, I never thought for one second that teaching would be something I'd be able to pursue with my anxiety. Whenever a student's English comprehension and communicative skills would improve, I would be overwhelmed by this rewarding feeling. They were another step closer to their goal, whatever their circumstance may be, and I was closer to mine. Yet, the process was nerve-wracking for me. I would spend hours looking up material for the curriculum - no material would ever be enough for the students, as time-consuming as required for an hour class, as well-developed as my peers'. I would tremble when meeting a new student and worried about whether or not I was able to hide it from everyone. I felt alone, guilty for dreading another class in the upcoming week, loathing myself for not being happy even though, in my subconscious, I knew that I was. I just needed reassurance so I took to Google, but instead of finding a community that would support me, my emotions of paranoia intensified. Most forums were of teachers who had made the difficult decision of quitting their jobs in an effort to reach their own happiness and to find their peace of mind. Other stories told of teachers who underwent intensive therapy sessions and who were prescribed medication to help them function "normally" in the classroom. I was made vulnerable by reading these stories, my unspoken fear concretizing into my reality from the dimly lit computer screen in my room. I went into a panic, crying and immediately shutting down the computer afterward. I called my significant other as soon as I was safe under the warm confinements of my blankets and told him about how I was being forced to quit my job. His answer was simple. "If you quit your job, I will support you and help you find another one that you'll love. If you don't, I will support you in every moment of anxiety you may have." I spent the following days thinking of how to write my resignation letter to the ESL company I worked for in the evenings. I was unsuccessful in hiding my streams of nervousness from my coworkers, who can obviously sense my unease from stutters and a flushed face so it wouldn't come as a surprise to them, would it? The following week, after nights sleeping on the stress, I was numb to the worry and better able to think about my current situation. I was soon to be moving out and needed the monetary means to support myself, developing content and teaching was a trade I was familiar with, and I had already grown somewhat comfortable in the work environment I was in. I called my significant other and told him of my decision to stay and we began to have weekly at-home dates where we would sit on the bed together watching movies and comedy shows, cuddling with my dogs, and going over the material I had planned for the week, and I opened myself up to insecurities I thought too annoying and redundant to speak to him about. Gradually, I regained my confidence and my work ethic grounded into patterns that made classes easy to manage. From the early mornings I would listen to motivational speakers on YouTube, I learned how to give myself the daily affirmations I needed and soon enough, I believed them. You are stronger than your paranoia, stronger than your anxiety, or any mental incapacity that you may have. I don't use the word "may" to undermine the very real effects of this illness, but to remind everyone reading this not to make this part of their life into a monster you cannot defeat or an insurmountable mountain that you cannot conquer. The mind is a powerful thing and our bodies are quick to recognize habits. It's okay to take time for yourself and it's okay to ask others for help. Learning to construct a bridge between my anxiety and my career is one that I learned how to after months of trial and error. It's something I am still constructing now with much trial and error, but the important thing is to keep moving, especially when uncertain because either way, you will be progressing forward and answers will begin to crystallize in front of you so that you may be able to obtain equilibrium between the most important parts of your life.

Doctors, lawyers, politicians, and engineers. How did they all get to where they are today? No matter the position someone may hold in society everyone has progressed to where they are in life because they had a teacher, someone who taught them in the way they should go. Teacher as defined in the dictionary as one who instructs. To teach someone is to communicate skills and give instruction. Today I would like to tell you why I would like to become a teacher. Specifically speaking I will tell you what has led me to this decision and why I want to become a teacher. One of the best gifts teachers can give students are the experiences that open their eyes to themselves as learners. Most students don't think much about how they learn and what kind of facilities they have. I had exactly the same thought 2 years ago when i couldn't not realize that i had a brilliant opportunity to try all things that education provides me . My mind and outlook had really changed when i had an online collaborative project with the students from Morocco . The students with whom i did a project work had really surprised me when they started to introduce their school and educational system. Honestly, i was amazed by their desire to uncover the power of education and pursuit of knowledge . Despite the lack of resources and equipments they had a lot of high qualified school teachers. Moreover, i noticed the flaming fire in the eyes of those students which made me clearly see their intentions in terms of acquiring more and more knowledge. After this project i have realized that education is an indispensable part of our life and that i have to learn a lot of mint aspects of that. When i have entered to Nazarbayev Intellectual school i were provided with wide range of facilities which in turn gave me stunning benefit to enjoy learning and evoke to replenish my knowledge . The teachers here are our close friends and our genial relationships make us feel like its our second home which inspires us to make breakthrough in our study life My decision to enter education is a direct result of having wonderful teachers and education opening the door for growth and opportunity in my country. My parents always reminded me that Kazakhstan was a place where people came to follow their dreams. We all know that i the only way to achieve your dreams and aspirations is through education. As education opened many doors for me, I decided that I want to do the same for my community. I decided that through teaching I could affect the lives of many students who experienced similar challenges as I faced. To this day, I know that every student who walks through school doors deserves as excellent an education as any other student in the country does. My love of learning and helping people continues to motivate me to become a great teacher and to help nurture the value of life-long learning in others.