Saroj Thapaliya in Dhanusa 

In the quiet town of Laliya, Dhanusa, where the fields stretch endlessly and the heat lingers long into the evening, I begin each day by stepping into my classroom with a vision. I see faces filled with questions, some curious, some hesitant, all seeking something beyond what the textbooks offer. My journey as a Teach For Nepal Fellow is not just about teaching—it is about shifting mindsets, opening doors that many never realized existed, and proving that change begins in the smallest of moments.

When I first arrived at Shree Rastriya Secondary School, I could sense the weight of expectations and limitations surrounding my students. The town thrives on agriculture, and many families depend on remittances from members working abroad. Education, while valued by some, often takes a backseat to survival. And for many girls, schooling is just a brief interlude before household responsibilities take over. Yet, amidst these constraints, I saw potential. I saw children who could lead if only they were given the belief that they were capable of doing so.

One of the first lessons I learned as a teacher was that transformation does not happen in grand gestures; it happens in small, persistent nudges. There was a girl in my class, Asha, who barely spoke. She sat at the back, quietly completing her assignments with flawless handwriting, yet never raising her hand. I observed her closely, sensing her struggle to find her voice. Instead of forcing participation, I involved her best friend, moved her seat near encouraging classmates, and praised her efforts, no matter how small. Slowly, she began to speak up—first in whispers, then in full sentences. The day she confidently answered a question in front of the class, I knew she had crossed a bridge she never thought she could.

Then there was Bikash, a boy who could not sit still, constantly interrupting lessons and disrupting class. Many labeled him as a troublemaker, but I saw something else—a restless energy that needed direction. Instead of reprimanding him, I got to know him. I found out that he loved English, so I used that as a bridge. I assigned him tasks that played to his strengths—writing, presenting, storytelling. I made him a leader in small classroom activities. Over time, he transformed. He channeled his energy into learning, and the disruptions faded. He wasn’t just another student; he became an engaged learner with purpose.

There were students who struggled with absenteeism, their home lives pulling them away from their studies. One girl, Sita, was often missing from class because she had to help at home. I visited her family, sat down with her parents, and explained why her education mattered. It was not an easy conversation, but persistence and continuous encouragement made a difference. Gradually, she started attending more regularly, and her performance improved. Her parents, once indifferent, began taking an interest in her progress.

Beyond individual students, I realized that a culture of learning had to be cultivated throughout the school. I started organizing community reading sessions where students and parents read together, breaking the notion that education was confined within school walls. I introduced group projects where students solved real-life problems in their community, fostering creativity and teamwork. In a place where rote memorization had been the norm, I encouraged critical thinking and discussion. Slowly, I saw students questioning concepts rather than just accepting them—a small yet powerful shift.

One of my biggest challenges was addressing gender disparities in the classroom. Many girls were hesitant to speak up, conditioned to believe their opinions mattered less. To change this, I started a mentorship program where senior girls mentored younger ones, fostering a support system. I also integrated discussions on gender equality into lessons, using relatable stories and examples. One day, during a debate on career choices, a girl named Laxmi stood up and declared that she wanted to be a doctor, despite her family’s expectations that she would marry young. That moment was a victory—a glimpse of the change I had been working toward.

But transformation is never linear. One of my students, Rohit, was on the verge of dropping out. He had lost his father and had taken on responsibilities beyond his years. Academics were the last thing on his mind. Instead of pushing him to focus solely on studies, I gave him space. I encouraged him to express himself through poetry, something he loved but never had the confidence to share. Slowly, he found solace in words, and his engagement in class improved. His story reminded me that education is not just about grades—it is about finding ways to keep the spark of learning alive, even in adversity.

These moments taught me that teaching is not about delivering knowledge—it is about unlocking potential, recognizing individual strengths, and relentlessly believing in students until they start believing in themselves. But the change did not stop at the students. The more I engaged with parents, the more I saw a shift in how they perceived education. Once hesitant, many started showing up to school meetings, asking questions, and participating in their children’s learning journey. A father who once dismissed education as unnecessary for girls now beams with pride when his daughter reads confidently in class.

Reflecting on my own path, I see how challenges have shaped my journey. I was a high achiever in school, but severe health issues tested my resilience. That struggle gave me an intimate understanding of what it means to fight against the odds. It made me realize that many of my students were fighting battles of their own—some visible, some hidden. And just as I found ways to push forward, I wanted to help them do the same.

The Fellowship is not just about teaching subjects; it is about challenging deep-seated norms, rewriting narratives, and showing students that their dreams are worth pursuing. It is about proving that the child sitting quietly at the back of the class, the one being labeled as disruptive, or the one missing from school altogether has potential waiting to be uncovered.

The impact I see today is not measured by test scores alone. It is in Asha, who now dares to dream beyond her village. It is in Bikash, who once disrupted class but now leads discussions. It is in Sita, whose parents now believe in the power of education. This is why I am here. Because every small victory, every ripple of change, contributes to a greater transformation. If I have learned anything, it is that a single teacher, with enough belief and effort, can ignite change that lasts far beyond the classroom walls.

Saroj Thapaliya, an English Fellow currently serving at Shree Rastriya Secondary School in Laliya, Dhanusa, holds a Bachelor's degree in Social Work from Xavier International College. Join us in supporting dedicated Fellows like Saroj, who are driving change and transforming education in Nepal.