My teaching journey began at Chaskhar Pam Community Primary School under Mongar district. A year later, I was transferred to Chaskhar Lower Secondary School.
While I had been passionate of teaching Physics, the school level – lower secondary – did not allow me to teach just than a small portion of it in the form of integrated science for eighth-grade students. I longed for a place where I could fully engage with my specialised subject physics – that I was professionally trained and qualified to teach.
But my desire was not just about teaching Physics. More than anything, I sought an environment where I felt valued and respected, both as a professional and as a person. I wanted to work in a school where my dedication was recognised, my contributions were encouraged, and my career could flourish without unnecessary roadblocks.
Perhaps, A Turning Point?
While I was at Chaskhar, an opportunity came that could have been a milestone in my career. An invitation to a Writer’s Workshop. Organised by Paro College of Education, it was initiated to develop a syllabus for the newly introduced Diploma in Sports Science. It was an acknowledgment of my competency in drafting a manual for Health and Physical Education teachers in collaboration with Japanese experts while I was trainee at Samtse College of Education.
The invitation, sent directly by the Director of Paro College, was a rare honour – one that could open doors to new professional networks and learning experiences.
I was thrilled, and so was my wife, who was in Malaysia at the time. This was more than just another training – it was recognition of my work, a validation of my dedication. However, this excitement was short-lived.
To my dismay, the principal of my school inhibited my participation. He cited vague justifications – from teacher shortages to scheduling conflicts – none of which held any truth. This was not the first time he had denied me an opportunity, and it became clear that under his leadership, my professional growth would always be strangulated.
This moment became a turning point. I could no longer stay in an environment where my growth was deliberately obstructed. I had to move forward.
Fighting For the Opportunity
But, refusing to let this injustice stand, I fought for the opportunity. I appealed the decision to the District Education Officer, hoping for a fair resolution. I presented the facts and showed the contradictions in the principal’s claims, but I was met with indifference. Despite my efforts, the system seemed to side with him. My attempts to explain the situation failed, and I found myself more isolated from the people who should have supported me. This experience, though disheartening, fuelled my determination to fight for what was right.
Justifying the Content of Principal's Letter
In the letter, the principal stated the following reasons for me to not relieve off from my teaching duty to attend the workshop:
· Teacher shortage
· A madam planning for a maternity leave
· Me attending interviews in Thimphu
· Me taking part in football competition
· Me using casual as well as official leave
· Workshop nominations creating grey area.
Teacher Shortage
The shortage of teachers had existed since the beginning of the year. Yet, my workshop invitation – just for 4 days – came in October. At this time of the academic year, teachings are nearly or almost completed, and students prepare for exams. I could not help but question:
· Why did the principal suddenly felt teacher shortage only at this point?
· Did the issue arise only because I was invited to the workshop?
Maternity leave
Madam Norbu’s maternity leave was scheduled for late November, a fact known to all teachers in the school. Even she openly shared her expected delivery date. But who cared? The principal refused to acknowledge it. Somehow, his knowledge surpassed that of Madam Norbu’s husband and even medical experts because he can seemingly predict that her delivery would happen the moment I left for the workshop.
Me Attending Interviews in Thimphu
Shortlisted candidates are required to attend interviews in Thimphu as there is no option for online or virtual alternatives. Feeling frustrated, I asked the principal if he could suggest a way for me to attend without traveling – but of course, there was none.
His jealousy toward my interview stemmed from 2 reasons:
· fear that I might secure a better opportunity and rise above him, and
· the financial benefits I got in the form of TA/DA.
Although unsuccessful, I had been ranked number one 4 times for prestigious scholarships to the U.S., Australia, and other countries. But each time, my struggle, misfortune, or curse (Lodaar) – you name it, began at school. The principal either refused to let me go or allowed it only after making me feel demotivated and frustrated.
The other reason for his resentment was financial. At the time, attending an interview was considered official leave, meaning I was paid for my journey. More interestingly, since Chaskhar was connected only by a feeder road, we were entitled to porter pony charges of up to Nu 1,200 for just a 30-minute trip to road point, Yadi. The entire journey from Chaskhar to Thimphu took 9 days (four days each way and one for the interview). A person on a one-day official tour could earn nearly Nu 20,000 – 25,000. This was way more than the monthly salary of a Grade 8 teacher with five years of experience.
Me Taking Part in Open Football Competition
Rangjung Higher Secondary School in Trashigang organised an open football competition, inviting schools from the Mongar district. Yadi Higher Secondary School’s principal reached out to my principal, requesting my release to join their team, as they lacked a defender. My friend from Yadi, knowing I had played defence in both my class and college teams at Samtse College of Education, had recommended me.
Initially, I refused to participate, but my principal later brought it up in a staff meeting, asking me to reconsider for the sake of his relationship with the Yadi principal. He feared that denying the request would strain their rapport and leave a negative impression. And so, I found myself playing for 4 Saturdays – yeah you heard it right, on Saturdays – until our team was knocked out in the semifinals.
Me Using Casual and Official Leave
When he brought up casual leave and official leave, my frustration hit the roof. I snapped, asking him to name a single person in the school who never used casual leave.
“Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of fabricating notification letters to claim I’m on an official visit” I argued.
To make my point, I exposed him. I recalled the exact date, time, and witnesses when he travelled to Trashigang with a girl in his car, while the school notification stated he was on an official visit to observe Non-Formal Education (NFE) centers.
His hypocrisy extended beyond this. He allowed his relatives and favoured staff to take leave without even writing an application or stating a reason. Some were even granted casual leave despite exhausting their 10-day entitlement before the year ended. But poor me, I had to personally report to his office, verbally justify my leave, and provide additional explanations beyond what was written in my request.
As for official leave, I asked him directly,
“When have you ever provided an official tour for me?”
As a leader, it was his duty to provide professional development opportunities for his subordinates. Even if he could not offer them, the least he could do was appreciate and encourage those who earned them on their own. But all the opportunities I had so far were secured through my own merit and competence. Instead of supporting growth, he was the epitome of a crab-mentality manager – always pulling me down.
Workshop Nominations Creating Grey Area
I had been invited to a writers’ workshop, not by chance, but by merit. By the credibility of my experience and the quality of my work. As a trainee teacher at Samtse College of Education, I worked as a content writer for the Teachers’ Manual of Health and Physical Education.
However, my excitement of this invitation was short-lived. My principal refused to relieve me from school, dismissing my selection with the vague excuse of a grey area. It was an excuse that had no foundation, nothing more than a convenient way to deny me an opportunity I had rightfully earned. Even when Mr. Lungten Wangdi, the HPE lecturer from Paro College, personally intervened on behalf of the Director of Paro College – the very person who had sent the invitation – his explanation was completely ignored.
I argued that “I was invited based on meritocracies, on the merit of my experience. If it were up to you, you would not even bother to call or give me such opportunities”.
Harsh but that was the bitter truth. I knew that had it been in his hands, I would have been ignored or potentially disregarded.
It was not just about missing the workshop. It was about being held back by someone who refused to acknowledge my worth. It was my boss who did not like me outshining him. I was disheartened to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard I work, the greatest obstacles are not a lack of talent or effort, but the people who stand in my way.
The Birth of the Transfer Idea
After the repeated setbacks at Chaskhar, I made a firm decision to leave the school. It was no longer just about securing better teaching opportunities, but it was about finding a workplace where my efforts were valued and my aspirations were not seen as a threat. The constant frustration and lack of support had taken a toll on my morale. Staying in such an environment was not sustainable for my mental well-being or my career.
With this conviction, I applied for a transfer. My request was luckily approved.
A New Chapter in the West
By early 2013, I was assigned to Kabesa Middle Secondary School in Punakha. It was not my first choice, but it was a fresh start – one that I desperately needed. The school had recently been upgraded, and with that came the opportunity to finally teach Physics as a full-fledged subject. After years of restrictions, I could now focus on what I truly loved.
Despite the fresh start, the scars of my past struggles lingered. I carried with me the lessons learned – the importance of standing up for oneself, the need to seek better opportunities when faced with obstruction, and the resilience required to keep moving forward. My transfer was not just a change in location; it was a declaration that I would not allow anyone to dictate the limits of my growth.
Looking back, the decision to leave Chaskhar was one of the most defining moments of my career. It taught me that sometimes, the best way to fight oppression is to walk away and seek a place where you can truly thrive.
My Transfer Anniversary
As I celebrate my transfer anniversary, I reflect with pride and gratitude. What started as a decision born from adversity has led to both personal and professional growth. The pain of that experience gave me the strength to rise above challenges, and it reaffirmed my commitment to teaching. My transfer was not just a career move; it was a turning point, one that taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of staying true to my values.
It was not easy to let go of that opportunity, but I learned that setbacks are just part of the journey. They do not define who I am but how I respond to them does. This experience taught me to face adversity with strength and determination, and to stay true to myself regardless of the challenges I face.
Disclaimer
This story is not about attributing blame or censure, but about raising awareness. Let it serve as a reminder to anyone facing similar challenges in their careers: resilience and staying true to oneself are key to overcoming even the toughest obstacles.
