The message on our school WhatsApp group popped…

The message on our school WhatsApp group popped up at 9:12 PM, and honestly, I was thrilled. The Principal’s message read: "Teaching shall remain suspended up to 1st Oct due to tournament

." I immediately did the math—wow, a four-to-five-day holiday! I turned to my roommate and said, "Chal kahin ghoomte hain, school band hai"

She was just as excited. In the students' group, party emojis were flying everywhere. Everyone thought we had a massive break ahead.

The next morning, I took my time and arrived at school late, around 8:30 AM. My logic was simple: no teaching meant no rush. But the moment I reached the gate, the watchman stopped me. "Madam, aap late ho, andar meeting chal rahi hai" (Madam, you are late, a meeting is going on inside).

Panic set in. I ran down to the ground only to find all the teachers standing perfectly in a line. Principal Ma'am looked furious. She looked straight at us and said, "I said teaching is suspended. I didn't say you can come late."

That was the exact moment the harsh reality sank in. "Teaching suspended" only meant the students got to stay home. For the teachers, it meant working double.

My assigned duty was at the ground entrance, which turned out to be an absolute nightmare. I had to verify incoming students, hand out chest numbers, and manage the parents. The parents were incredibly confrontational

One shouted, "My son is the best, why is he not selected?" Another accused us directly: "You are partial!" I had no answers for them. I could only deflect and say, "Please talk to the sports teacher."

We were on our feet from 7:00 AM to 5:00 PM every single day. There was nowhere to sit, and my legs were aching constantly. To make matters worse, we weren't even given a proper lunch. All we got was a single samosa and a cup of tea at 3:00 PM. And for all this extraexhaustion? Just our regular salary. Not a single paisa of extra event pay.

Then came the weather. One day, the skies opened up and it poured. Shimla rain is notoriously piercing and cold.Within minutes, the entire ground turned into a swamp of thick mud. My white shoes turned completely brown, and my paperwork was thoroughly soaked. I found myself struggling to hold up a

massive banner that was literally tearing apart from the weight of the water. Yet, we weren't allowed to seek shelter. The District Education Officer (DEO) was scheduled to visit, so we had to stand out there and project the illusion that everything was perfect. We were freezing, soaked to the bone, and utterlyexhausted—but the moment the cameras clicked for official photos, we had to smile.

That grueling week taught me a very clear lesson. In a school, when the administration announces that "teaching is suspended," it really just means the students' work is over, and the teachers' real labor has just begun.