- Priyan R Naik
September is the month when teachers in India suddenly become important. Students who have spent the rest of the year negotiating deadlines, ignoring homework and occasionally pretending not to hear their teacher will, on September 5, discover an extraordinary affection for the profession.
Flowers appear, greeting cards change hands, messages of gratitude arrive and classrooms acquire an unusual air of celebration.
Teacher's Day in India, marks the birth anniversary of Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, philosopher, scholar and India's second President. It is a day when teachers are reminded, sometimes quite loudly, that they are valued. Former students return to meet their teachers, schools organise cultural programmes and classrooms that normally produce questions about attendance suddenly produce speeches about inspiration.
Teacher's Day is celebrated in other countries as well. In Laos last year, teaching at the Phoudthasay English Learning Center in Sayaboury, I found teacher's day being celebrated in a quieter but equally profound manner on October 7, the day designated as Teacher's Day in Laos, a national holiday to recognise teachers in every corner of the country, chosen to honor a pioneer in education, one Nai Khou Kham, recognised as the first teacher in the country. Kham had attended one of only two available schools in the country in those times and after graduation on October 7, 1909, had begun sowing the seeds of literacy and learning in Laos where formal education was in its infancy. He taught wherever people gathered, often in temples, doubling as learning centers. His classrooms, unlike modern ones, had monks studying alongside children, adults sitting next to teenagers, everybody regardless of age, sharing seats in the pursuit of knowledge.
At the English Learning Center, I found 'Teacher's Day' was marked by respectful ceremonies, flowers, small performances and words of gratitude. The compound was filled with colourful paper flowers, hand-painted banners and rows of students in freshly ironed traditional dresses carrying handmade gifts that were not just symbolic, but expressions of real effort and affection. The older students recited heartfelt messages, explaining how their English teachers had opened doors to new opportunities and world-views.
Moments when students shared personal stories about their teachers were touching. One young woman spoke of how her English teacher stayed after class to help her write her first letter to her sister studying abroad. Another student spoke of a patient teacher who helped him overcome his fear of speaking English in public. At one point the air was filled with children's voices singing simple Lao songs of gratitude.
After a formal talk by the centre's director, each teacher had to give a karaoke performance. Laughter filled the hall as teachers' names chosen by a spinning karaoke wheel were called out to sing. Each turn brought surprise and cheer, breaking hesitation and hierarchy alike, as voices rose in fun, camaraderie and a shared celebration. I boldly sang a rumbustious Indian pop number, signifying energy, laughter and joyful chaos. All teachers were treated to a sumptuous 'Jeen jum', a traditional Lao hot-pot meal. Thinly sliced meat, fresh vegetables and herbs were dipped into a gently simmering, aromatic coconut broth and enjoyed with sticky rice in a relaxed setting.
When India's exuberant, expressive Teacher's Day is compared with Laos's dignified, heartfelt one, I realised both share the same core sentiment that teachers matter because they shape minds and instil values. 'Teachers Day' is a reminder that societies grow not through buildings and laws, but through teachers who believe in learning. The beauty, simplicity and genuine gratitude, I felt in Sayaboury's Center, will stay with me long after the flower laden bouquets have wilted. The ceremonies may differ, the languages may differ, the food definitely will, but the gratitude will be remarkably similar. And that may well be the best lesson of Teacher's Day!

