Eighteen Years, My First Job, and a Lifetime of Gratitude

Eighteen years ago, I walked into my first classroom as a teacher—not fully aware that a single appointment would shape everything that followed.

This is a brief reflection on my first job, unexpected opportunities, institutional generosity, and the people who made space for me to grow—academically and personally. A note of gratitude, memory, and quiet pride.

Today, I completed 18 years of service—across aided, government, and university services. Like first love, the first job leaves an imprint that never quite fades. It shapes your confidence, your ethics, and your sense of what is possible. But when that first job arrives unexpectedly—at 25, without grand plans or careful dreaming—you don’t always recognise, in that moment, how decisive it will be.

That was me on 17 December 2007, when I received my first appointment as an Assistant Professor at St. Thomas College, Kozhencherry, under the Malankara Mar Thoma Syrian Church. It was my first visit to Kozhencherry—first for the interview, and then for joining. This was only the second interview I had ever attended. Getting selected for an aided college, managed by a community that was not mine, was never part of my imagined future.

My father, who was my earliest inspiration for academic excellence, had no acquaintances in the management. So there was no question of the now “normalised” practice of prior booking of vacancies. What happened instead was something far more precious: a decision rooted in merit and trust. At that time, the common belief was that one needed years of experience as a Guest Lecturer to secure a permanent teaching post. Many candidates at the interview had such experience. I had none. I did not even have a B.Ed. degree to demonstrate professional training in pedagogy. There were also candidates from the Mar Thoma community with teaching experience—who could easily have been considered for the open vacancy, as many managements routinely do.

Around the same time, friends shared stories of interviews in aided colleges where women were bluntly told they were not preferred: maternity leave, care responsibilities, emotional labour, marriage, relocation—these hypothetical futures were used to disqualify real, present competence. I cannot verify these conversations; they take place behind closed doors. But I have no reason to disbelieve them either. Against this backdrop, the Mar Thoma management chose to appoint a young, unmarried woman, with no local roots, pursuing a PhD, and very likely to move on if another opportunity arose. Today, when institutions are often wary of teachers who invest seriously in research, I look back in awe. In my case, there were no obstacles placed in my path—no resistance to duty leave, no policing of academic ambition, no ego-driven intimidation by seniors. I completed my PhD within three years of registering. The management never tried to clip my wings. I never once had to approach the Manager with a grievance; the Principals I worked under ensured support at every level.

Eighteen years later, when I look back at where I began, I do so with profound gratitude. That first appointment shaped my confidence for everything that followed.

Some people must be named. My father is no longer with me, but his lessons on punctuality, integrity, honesty, and professional excellence still echo within me. He lived those values long before he taught them.

Chandra Bose—Bose Chettan to me—our driver then, is also no more. He was far more than a driver; he was a quiet admirer of my journey, someone who celebrated my small victories with genuine warmth.

The first face I associate with my interview day is Shri. Jolly, from the non-teaching staff. He handled crucial office work, including appointments. Before the interview, he called to remind me to bring the originals of my certificates—because I had mentioned being a rank holder but hadn’t attached copies. Kozhencherry was never part of my career plan; I had applied mostly to satisfy my father. That phone call, in retrospect, feels like the first recognition of my academic worth. Thank you, sir, for ensuring I didn’t lose an opportunity through carelessness. Interview boards are usually nightmares. At that age, with unmodulated confidence and a voice often mistaken for arrogance, I could easily have been dismissed. But Dr. K. M. Krishnan, later Professor and Head, School of Letters, met me with calmness and encouragement. He gave me space to think, speak, and be heard. Years later, in 2024, he was part of the CAS Committee that promoted me to Associate Professor—a beautiful, full-circle moment. In a system where seniors can choose intimidation over encouragement, his choice mattered.

I also remember, with respect, Rt. Rev. Dr. Isaac Mar Philoxenos Episcopa, the then Manager, who chose academic excellence over petty politics, and Philipose Mar Chrysostom Mar Thoma Valiya Metropolitan, whose vision shaped the institution’s ethos.

Once appointed, it is the Principal and HoD who shape your everyday academic life. Late Prof. K. George Abraham, Principal, and Prof. Nessie Joseph, HoD, never burdened me with excessive duties. They protected my time for research. Looking back, I realise how easily they could have extinguished my spark. Others tried later in my career—but not them. 

Dr. Roshin George and Dr. Koshy George were like parents to me—people I could turn to without hesitation. Since my home was over two and a half hours away, accommodation mattered deeply. Dr. Roys Mallassery, then HoD of Malayalam, later Principal, quietly helped me secure a place at the YWCA hostel, signing as my local guardian—without being asked. That silent kindness made all the difference.

I was argumentative then—perhaps still am, though now with a layer of diplomacy. With a family full of lawyers, debate runs in my blood. Through all that, Shri. Febu George (now HoD), Smt. Annie George, and Dr. Tom Thomas bore my crankiest moments with grace. Our love–hate relationship is one I cherish. My early seniors—Dr. Anne Susan Koshy (who taught me how to pronounce  ‘concept’), Dr. Thomas Mathai, Dr. Asha Susan Jacob, and Dr. Elizabeth John—showed me that seniors need not be tyrants.

There are many others—Dr. Rony Thomas Rajan, Dr. Jaison Jose, Dr. Libus Jacob Abraham, Dr. Jinsu Varghese, and more—who helped me transition from student to employee. I apologise to anyone I have missed; forgetting names is unfortunately my flaw (You wouldn't believe, I forgot to thank my research supervisor during my PhD viva vote of thanks!).

And finally, after my father, the person who shaped me most—Prof. G. S. Jayasree, my research supervisor. She taught me how to grow, how to leave comfort behind, and how to believe in myself when I couldn’t. Some debts can never be repaid—only carried forward.

Eighteen years later, I remain grateful. And I try, every day, to pass on the values I inherited—from fairness, generosity, and academic integrity—to the next generation.