My Dear Student— Poem by ashok jadhav

(A quiet classroom. The speaker stands near an empty desk, voice gentle yet carrying weight.)

My dear student—
I see you,
even when your hand does not rise,
even when your eyes look away
as if knowledge might expose you.
You sit there thinking
everyone else understands,
that confusion is a private failure.
It is not.
It is the beginning.
My dear student,
your marks do not define your mind,
your mistakes do not measure your worth.
You are more than the numbers
written in red or praised in gold.
I know the fear you carry—
the fear of being wrong,
of being laughed at,
of not becoming enough.
But listen to me now:
learning is not a race,
and growth is not a straight line.
Even the strongest minds
once trembled at the first question.
Do not silence your curiosity
to protect your pride.
Do not trade your voice
for the comfort of invisibility.
I am not here to fill you with answers.
I am here to teach you
how to ask.
My dear student,
believe in your effort,
honour your struggle,
and never doubt this—
your potential is not waiting to be given;
it is waiting to be trusted.
And when you rise—
as you will—
remember this moment,
when someone saw you
before you believed in yourself.
(The speaker rests a hand on the desk. Lights fade.)