When more than half your waking life is spent doing one thing, alignment stops being a philosophical thought. It becomes a necessity. To love what you do, or at the very least, not feel yourself standing still while the world moves on. Teaching, I have learnt rather quickly, is an emotionally demanding profession. It calls for patience, presence and an empathetic heart, even on days when extending that same kindness to yourself feels unexpectedly hard.
I always knew my search was for more than a workplace. I was looking for a space where the mind could soften, where ideas had room to stretch and creativity did not feel like a luxury reserved for holidays. I wanted mornings I could look forward to, evenings that did not borrow worry from the next day and Sundays that were free from the familiar weight of Monday blues. In time, that search found its answer in Filix.
From seniors who guide with generosity, to colleagues whose compassion feels instinctive, and to students who have encountered life in ways far deeper and more complex than their years might suggest, often teaching you to practise gratitude more profoundly than any book ever could, Filix has tended to something in me I did not even realise was waiting.
There is something deeply moving about watching people who are masters of their crafts come together across ages and experiences, working with unwavering intent towards a shared vision. At times, I feel wonderfully small in the presence of such selfless dedication, not diminished but grounded. And yet, I feel held. I feel at home.
To witness lives being shaped, often in ways the children themselves cannot yet imagine, and to be part of such patient, unseen work of lasting magnitude, is a privilege.
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Poulami Chakraborty
TGT (English)
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