One teacher, Javid sir, remains etched in my heart. Old people would recall their teachers’ beatings with pride: “Wastad sund maar gow bateh.” The teacher’s thrashings were a blessing. A good teacher, one who shares in their co-curricular passions, can pull them back toward purpose. As I walked out of the examination center that day in Sonwar, I saw my teacher once again. He boarded a local bus, weary and frail, a shadow of the vibrant man I once admired.