THE MONTESSORI LESSONS
Nine-year-old Dhruv* was fantastic, this morning. He had won our hearts with his vibrant recital of a poem and the entire class had given him a long applause. “Excellent, beta … You have won our hearts!” I went to the stage to pat the little fellow’s back. “Keep it up… Keep it up,” I repeated, “Dear angels, give our Dhruv darling a very big hand, once more!” The little angels sang, “Alleluia… Alleluia!” Praise be to the Lord… the little ‘Lord of the Ring’: The Public Speaking! And, when the praises were being showered upon by all our little angels and when I was pouring my heart on him, the little master, Dhruv, looked all frigid. Just bereft of all expressions… Lifeless. It sounded like all the expressions which he had exhibited just a while ago, for his poetry recital, were only reserved for his recital… and, that’s all over now. It looked as if he could go about his little world wearing a dead-pan look. Co...