The Story of My First Tutoring Job

Sushanta declared: “Tutoring thoughts are marvelous—what a wretched career indeed!”

Teaching is a most vexing profession. I taught all month, and when it came time to collect my salary, I heard: “But you didn’t come on such-and-such days.” (Maybe they even marked on their calendar which days the lessons were skipped!) “Take it all together next month—I’m having a bit of trouble this month.” (The household expenses don’t reveal the nature of this ‘trouble.’) “This time the results were worse than last time.” (Who’s going to mention that they took several family trips this time around?) “You’ve been giving a bit less time lately—it would be good if you could increase it a little.” (No concern for what I’m teaching; even if I sit around chatting for longer, that’s no problem—but I must sit there!) “From this month, if you could also show him a bit of religious studies…” (Ah! Lucky that physical education isn’t in the syllabus. Otherwise I might have had to go learn it at the gym to teach the student.) “I started some house work last month, so I’m a bit tight on expenses. You keep teaching, let’s see what I can do for you.” (Ah! As if they’re showing mercy! The house goes up, while their mentality remains buried beneath it. Money to build a house, but no money to pay my salary.) ……. And so much more like this.

Those whose profession is medicine know that chatting with patients isn’t their job. When work can be done quickly, where’s the time or need to spend extra time?

Those who teach know how much a student really needs. Any tutor who comes to teach at home and spends more than two hours—you can tell that tutor is new, meaning inexperienced. What a skilled and experienced tutor can teach a student in half an hour of conversation would take the student at least two days to absorb!

I once did a tremendous amount of tutoring. A lot, I mean a lot!!! I had 4-5 tutoring sessions a day. Before starting my own coaching center, I taught at other coaching centers too. Before starting Pals Coaching Home, I taught at a total of 13 coaching centers. In my life, I worked like a ghost—unimaginably hard—teaching students. Night after night I stayed awake preparing notes and worksheets.

Why? For money? Well, partly that! Just because I wasn’t in love didn’t mean I didn’t need money, did it? But not entirely for money. My father had plenty of money. But father’s money was father’s money, not mine. You can’t fall in love with father’s money, you can’t smoke cigarettes with father’s money, you can’t indulge in luxuries with father’s money, you can’t buy books with father’s money. I lacked the sense and courage to fall in love, and I never smoked cigarettes. My indulgences were on this level: I shopped extensively, lent money freely to people with both hands, bought whatever I saw for the house, and my only incorporeal beloved had to be books. I bought at least 20-30 thousand taka worth of books every month. Even so, lakhs of taka accumulated each month.

Still…… they don’t understand, don’t understand, they just don’t understand. …….. Who are ‘they’?……… The guardians. My student’s father’s building rises from two stories to three, while my salary, given the chance, drops from two stories to one and a half. The guardian’s attitude was this—poor tutor, came to teach, will teach anyway! I’m showing mercy by paying a salary, that’s more than enough!

Dear Chaudhury Saheb!
Please don’t think of teachers as poor! What more could a boy of that age have possibly earned?
I know exactly how much money I saved from teaching. I was never poor in this life. Though I did spend some time in voluntary poverty. I’ll tell that story another day.

But not everyone gets tutoring so easily. When I think of how many concessions I gave when I first started tutoring, it makes me laugh. Later on, I only taught good students at their homes. A student from Assam Valley School’s O Level would study with me when he came to Bangladesh for vacation. I used to go to his house to teach him, earning 40,000 taka a month—I’m talking about 2005. I always tutored with my head held high.

I didn’t get paid from my first tutoring job. Actually, that’s wrong—I didn’t take the payment. Why would I? They wanted to pay less. So I didn’t take it. Children from middle-class families carry sky-high self-respect. They’d rather starve than bow their heads—that sort of thing. I was like that too; happily, I still am.

2002. My first tutoring job in life. I went to teach with tremendous emotion and sincerity. Being the second-place winner in CUET’s entrance exam also commanded a higher ‘rate.’ I had started teaching at Omega, an engineering admission coaching center in Chittagong. I taught math, physics, and English. I would study hard before going to teach, hoping that I might land a tutoring job! But that was an age of constantly trying to impress students. I had firmly resolved not to take money from my father during my honors. Within a few days, I got a tutoring job. I had to go teach a girl named Afia at her home. A 3-month contract. 5,000 taka per month. A total contract of 15,000 taka. She lived at her elder sister’s house while studying.

I had passed HSC in 2002. She was from the batch after mine. Her home was in Halishahar K-Block. The girl was extraordinarily beautiful. She was taking coaching while staying at her elder sister’s house. I started teaching with complete dedication. She was beautiful, and on top of that, brilliant—there was definitely an element of wanting to impress. She had passed SSC from Dr. Khastagir School and HSC from Ispahani College. I taught 3-4 hours every day. How hard I worked! I made her solve 4-5 books each of physics, chemistry, and math, including all the questions that had appeared in BUET and BIT in previous years. I had her solve Pramanik for physics, Lutfuzzaman for math, and Kundu’s book for chemistry. And I taught English in my completely personal style. I have never in my life taught English by teaching grammar—I taught grammar by teaching English. How I did that is a story for another day.

This is how it continued. I was fed well at their house. The elder sister would cook by following various recipes from newspapers and ask, showing me the pictures, “Sushanta, tell me, doesn’t it look just like theirs?” To encourage her, I would say, “Sister, yours turned out even better than theirs.” All women love to hear praise about their beauty and cooking, no matter how ugly they might look or how inedible their cooking might be!

Oh, if I had known that the more elaborate the snacks, the greater the mischief! I never understood. The first month passed. I asked for my salary. They said they’d pay next month. I believed them too. Such gentle behavior. Could such a face tell lies? Could those eyes hide something else? I taught, enjoyed delicious snacks, and played pranks with apu’s little boy. What joy there was in teaching! I poured my whole heart into it. Never once did I watch the clock while teaching. Why would I? There was nothing else to do! I only taught at one coaching center—how much time could it take! When I timidly asked for a little money after a month and a half, apu informed me, “Oh, why are you getting anxious about money? I’ll give it to you! Just keep teaching!” I felt so small. I began to think, why am I being so commercial? How shameful! The money I got from coaching was quite enough for me! What was the need? Let it stay with her! Later, when I get a lot of money together, I’ll buy many things for home. Ah! I kept teaching. Four days a week; 3-4 hours each time. I had studied extensively before the admission test. I didn’t get the marks to take the BUET exam after HSC, so I had taken the CUET exam instead. (Back then there was no CUET-KUET-RUET, it was BIT.) I was pouring all my knowledge into teaching. Whatever it took, I was determined to make it impossible for him not to get into BUET—that was my sworn mission. I made him practice extensively. I gave loads of homework. After I left, I arranged things so that all his time would be spent doing ‘home assignments.’ Keeping students deeply engaged was my teaching technique. My student wouldn’t even have time to sleep, he’d have to work like a machine—this was the fundamental principle of my teaching career.

Two months ended and Ramadan arrived. The variety and splendor of snacks increased even more. Ah! What delightful treats! Even if nothing else happened in such a house, one could visit daily just to eat these snacks. How wonderful apu was! Seeing such heavenly refreshments, it felt deeply embarrassing to mention salary. They’re so wealthy! Would they really cheat me out of my money? That’s impossible. Two and a half months passed. I calculated and found that twelve and a half thousand taka had accumulated. One day she asked me, “What size punjabi do you wear?” I didn’t want to tell her at all. “If your own sister wanted to give you a punjabi, wouldn’t you take it?” With many such words, she emotionally blackmailed me into revealing my punjabi size. I always wore punjabis then, size 44. I didn’t like accepting gifts from people, but surely I could take from them—they were such good people! How could I hurt their feelings?

Eid was approaching. They would be going home. The three months were almost over. The BUET entrance exam was right after Eid. It was time for me to say goodbye. I was really missing Apu’s little boy. I’ve always loved children, and that little one was exceptionally cute. When I was tutoring, he would crawl under the table like a cat and sit there. I was very fond of him and always brought him chocolates. One day Apu said, “Well, the three months are nearly over. We’ll be going home too. I should give you your payment.” I felt so embarrassed hearing this! “Apu, no no, don’t say such things! Of course you’ll pay me!” “No no, you’ve worked hard teaching, and you need money for your expenses too. Here, take this, take your money.” I received some money in a blue envelope. I didn’t count it, just put it in my pocket. “Brother, count it, count it!” “No no Apu, what are you saying! No problem at all.” I left that house with a smile, got on a three-wheeler, took out the envelope and counted—instead of 15 thousand taka, there were 8 thousand! Two of the five-hundred taka notes were torn and taped. I thought Apu had made a mistake and I’d just mention it when I went there tomorrow. How naive I was then!

The next day I went there and said very hesitantly, “Apu, I think you gave me the wrong envelope yesterday.”
“What do you mean?” (Her voice quite loud!) I said very softly,
“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but when I counted the money in the envelope,
I found it was 7,000 taka short.” “Why would it be short?
I gave you 8,000 exactly.” “But you were supposed to give me fifteen thousand taka.” “15,000? Oh my God! What would you do with so much money? You’re still a student!
How much do you really need? Even if you had a job, would you get that much?”
I had never heard this tone from her before. I said, “What are you saying? Whatever I am, that’s what we agreed on! Why would you pay me less?” “Where am I paying less? I’m giving you what you need. If I gave you more, you’d just waste it on foolish things. And what exactly did you teach that I should pay you so much? What if Afia doesn’t get into BUET? Can you guarantee that? I gave you so many privileges, let you eat whatever we ate, have you forgotten all that today? I even bought you a punjabi. Now don’t say another word and keep this. Afia,
bring your brother’s punjabi!” I still couldn’t believe that something like this was actually happening. Very calmly, I returned the envelope to her and said, “Apu, I won’t take a taka less than 15,000.” Her words were hitting my self-respect. “Are you crazy! Do you understand how much 15,000 taka is? You don’t have a job yet, so you wouldn’t understand. Your father isn’t poor. He’s a lawyer,
what would he think if he heard this? Why are you being so money-minded? How did such greed get into your head at such a young age? Fine, go on, I’ll add another 500 taka. Don’t say anything more. Here, take it now.”
She started opening her vanity bag. Blood rushed to my head. I placed the envelope on the center table in front of her and said very calmly, “Apu, I don’t need the money. Use this to buy Eid clothes and some food for her.”
Saying this, I picked up her little boy, kissed him, and left that house. As I was leaving, Afia said, “Sir, please don’t keep any hurt feelings in your heart. Pray for me.”

Honestly, I never wished her ill. She was my student after all! How could I curse her? But natural justice always works. I heard later that she didn’t get admission anywhere and had to study in a private institution after spending a lot of money.

When I was in ninth and tenth grade, I used to study science subjects with Samar Sir from our school. He didn’t teach in December, but he never said no if anyone paid him. Many of my classmates wouldn’t pay him during that month. But when I told my father about this, he scolded me instead and said, “He has certain fixed household expenses. He has to maintain those. You take Sir’s money to him.” I can’t recall ever withholding even a penny from any coaching teacher. Until eighth grade, teachers used to come to my house to teach. Even if a teacher taught for only one week in a month, my father would give him the full month’s fee. Back then, I thought my father was very foolish. Now I understand—in life’s accounting, God never makes a mistake.

I earned a lot of money teaching students. Later, when I started my own coaching center, I used to make ghostly amounts of money every month. Many students wouldn’t pay their fees—they’d take money from their fathers and use it for hanging out, going on dates. I haven’t heard that they went very far in life afterwards. That’s how it goes. That’s how it should be. I want such students to definitely face consequences in life.

I didn’t receive payment from many tutoring jobs. I can’t remember ever taking less money from anyone for teaching. Either I took the full amount, or I taught completely free. I wouldn’t take money from many poor children. Teaching the poor for free is actually better. There are benefits both worldly and otherworldly. It brings great peace to the mind. Taking less money always felt humiliating to me. My labor and intellect have value. Either someone will pay that price, or if they can’t afford it, they’ll receive my service for free. Either I’ll sell my time at fair value, or I’ll keep my time priceless—this is the principle I believe in.

I’m telling parents: don’t pay your children’s teachers less. If you were in business, wouldn’t you invest? The best investment in the world is investing in your own child’s education. Its return is always the highest! If you pay the doctor less, the illness doesn’t heal; if you pay the teacher less, your children don’t become proper human beings. This is a tested truth. Never be miserly when it comes to your children’s education. If they don’t turn out well, all your life’s savings become meaningless!

Funny thing is, my younger brother also didn’t take a single penny from his first tutoring job. For the same reason—they wanted to pay less. He had coached that boy for Collegiate School admission. (My younger brother came third in the sixth-grade admission exam at Collegiate School.) That boy, after not getting into any government school, later studied at a private school. His father had a shoe business, and both he and his wife had a mentality lower than shoe soles. Many might say this isn’t right. Whatever you get from tutoring is profit. A one-eyed uncle is better than no uncle. But I believe this diminishes confidence in one’s own abilities.