A Journey Through Weather and Seasons: An Experiential Learning Story
My name is Vaidehi, and as an EVS teacher for Class 2, I always look for new ways to make learning meaningful and joyful for my students. This year, I faced a special challenge when we began the chapter Weather and Seasons. Many of my students, especially the lower-average and below-average learners, found the topic confusing. Words like “atmosphere,” “weather changes,” and “seasons” felt too abstract for them. Their puzzled faces made me realise that reading from the textbook alone would not help. I needed to find a more engaging path.
That was when I decided to use the power of experiential learning. Instead of explaining everything inside the classroom, I thought—why not bring the children closer to the concept itself? So, one fine morning, I gathered my Class 2 students and took them to the science lab. Their eyes lit up the moment they entered. For many of them, it was the first time experiencing the lab in this way, and the excitement itself became the beginning of deeper learning.
Inside the lab, I introduced them to a 3D model of the atmosphere. The colourful layers, the arrows showing wind movement, and the tiny sun model instantly caught their attention. I explained, slowly and visually, how the sun heats the earth, how air moves, and how clouds form. Instead of simply listening, the children could see and touch what we were talking about. This shifted the learning from imagination to experience.
Next, we spoke about weather changes—sunny, rainy, windy, cloudy, and cold days. I connected each type of weather to something they had personally felt: the warm sun on their face during assembly, the cool breeze of winter mornings, the sound of raindrops on the classroom window. Their little heads nodded eagerly as they realised they already understood weather—they just needed the words for it.
To make the topic even more engaging, I gave them a simple but exciting task: a weather survey. Armed with small worksheets, they asked teachers, helpers, and even senior students about the weather that day—Was it hot? Was it windy? Did it look like it might rain? This activity helped them observe, think, and record information like real young scientists. The sense of responsibility made them feel proud and involved.
Finally, we connected all these experiences to seasons. I explained how changes in weather over months create the seasons we know—summer, winter, monsoon, and spring. Suddenly, the chapter made sense to them. Their confusion turned into curiosity, and their curiosity turned into confidence.
The transformation was beautiful. Students who earlier struggled to answer even simple questions were now eagerly explaining weather types, giving examples, and sharing their observations. By the end of the week, the same children who once hesitated now felt empowered.
This experience reaffirmed my belief that when children experience learning, they understand it deeply. Through a simple visit to the science lab, a hands-on model, and a fun survey, the topic of Weather and Seasons turned into a memorable learning journey for my Class 2 students.
Assignment 2
Riding Both Boats: A Story of Strength, Struggle, and Self-Discovery
There was a time in my life when everything felt heavy. My personal life and my professional responsibilities seemed to pull me in two different directions, each demanding more than I thought I had to give. I often felt as if I were standing with one foot in each boat, both drifting apart, and I feared that at any moment, I would lose balance and fall into the water. Those were the vulnerable moments—moments when I questioned my own strength, my choices, and even my ability to continue being the teacher I wanted to be.
My role as a teacher had always been a source of joy. The bright smiles of my students, their doubts, their excitement for small activities—these things filled my day with purpose. But life outside the classroom was not always so predictable. Personal challenges would arrive without warning, leaving me overwhelmed. I began to doubt whether I could continue giving my best to the children who looked up to me. The fear of failing in both spaces started to cloud my confidence.
But somewhere within that chaos, I found a quiet moment of clarity. I realised that balancing life does not mean choosing one boat over the other. It means learning how to stand strong, even when the waves get rough. So instead of withdrawing, I began taking small steps. I allowed myself to breathe, to slow down, and to understand that it was okay to struggle. I reminded myself that every person—teacher or not—faces seasons of difficulty, and this was mine.
Slowly, I built a new rhythm. I learned how to manage my responsibilities with compassion for myself. I created boundaries where needed and gave myself permission to rest. On days when the weight felt too heavy, I leaned on small victories—a well-taught lesson, a student understanding a difficult concept, a quiet moment of peace at home. These became my stepping stones.
And something beautiful happened. As I began to steady myself, I realised that my struggles were shaping me into a stronger, more empathetic teacher. My students unknowingly became my motivation. Their innocence reminded me that every day was a new beginning. Their trust in me strengthened my belief that I could overcome my challenges—not by being perfect, but by being present.
Over time, I learned to ride both boats with confidence. I survived the imbalance, not by choosing one over the other, but by learning how to navigate both with grace. The failures I once feared became lessons. The vulnerabilities I hid became sources of resilience.
Today, I stand stronger—not because my life is perfect, but because I learned how to move forward even when it wasn’t. I continue to be an amazing teacher for my students because I now understand that strength is not the absence of struggle, but the courage to rise through it.
Assignment 3
The Day the Project Failed: A Story of Empathy in the Classroom
It was supposed to be a simple class project—something fun, creative, and exciting. My students had worked for days to prepare a small model for our EVS chapter. They were proud, hopeful, and eager to show their work. But on the morning of the presentation, something unexpected happened. The model they had built—so carefully and lovingly—collapsed right before the show. Pieces broke, colours smudged, and the room fell into stunned silence.
Some children froze. Others began to cry. A few blamed each other. In that moment, it wasn’t just a project that had failed—it was their confidence.
As their teacher, I could see how deeply this affected them. So instead of scolding or rushing to fix the model, I gathered them in a circle. I spoke softly, reminding them that failure is not the end of the story—it is the beginning of learning. I asked them how they felt, and one by one, they opened up: “I’m scared,” “I’m sad,” “I worked so hard,” “Now everyone will laugh.” Listening to them made me realise that this wasn’t a lesson about EVS anymore—it was a lesson about life.
I told them a simple truth: “Everyone fails. But what makes us strong is how we hold each other when something breaks—whether it’s a model or a heart.”
Slowly, I encouraged them to look around at their classmates. I asked, “Who needs help right now?” Immediately, small hands reached out to comfort the ones who were crying. One child brought tissues, another held a friend’s hand, while someone else picked up the broken pieces gently. In that moment, the classroom transformed—not into a place of disappointment, but into a space filled with empathy and sympathy.
Together, we rebuilt the model—not perfectly, but beautifully. Every child contributed something, and every child felt important. When the project was finally ready, they didn’t present it as a neat, flawless model. They presented it as a story of teamwork, courage, and kindness.
To my surprise, that imperfect project received more appreciation than any perfect one could. Parents and teachers could see the emotion behind it—the unity, the support, the resilience.
But more than any applause, what stayed with me was the transformation in my students. Through a moment of failure, they discovered the power of standing by each other. They learned that mistakes don’t define us—our response to them does. And from that day on, I knew that I wasn’t just teaching EVS—I was helping shape hearts that cared.
Assignment 4
From Doubt to Triumph: My Journey of Turning Failure Into Strength
When I look back at my first year of teaching, I remember it not as a smooth beginning, but as a storm I had to survive. I entered the school with enthusiasm, dreams, and a heart full of hope. I believed I would instantly connect with every child, master every lesson, and impress every colleague. But reality walked in like an unexpected guest.
My classes didn’t always go the way I planned. Activities I thought were creative ended in confusion. The Worksheets I designed didn’t match the students’ levels. Some children struggled, some grew restless, and some simply didn’t respond. And slowly, whispers began drifting through the staff room—soft at first, then louder.
Each comment felt like a small stone added to my heart. I began doubting myself. I questioned my ability, my efforts, and even my decision to become a teacher. I felt like I was walking alone through a corridor filled with eyes that judged before understanding.
But one evening, after a particularly difficult day, I sat alone in my empty classroom. The children’s drawings on the wall were slightly crooked, the chalk dust settled on my table, and the silence felt heavy. And yet, something inside me whispered, “You didn’t come this far to give up here.”
So I began observing my failures closely—not with fear, but with curiosity.
And then, I transformed everything step by step.
And something amazing happened.
At that moment, every failure felt worth it.
Assignment 5
Finding Success in Every Failure: A Teacher’s Perspective
Failure, whether in personal life or professional life, is often seen as a setback, but it can become one of the most productive turning points in our journey. As a teacher, I have learned that every failure carries a message—an opportunity to reflect, adjust, and grow. When we move in the right direction with clarity and purpose, failures do not stop us; instead, they guide us toward better decisions and stronger outcomes. They teach patience, resilience, and the courage to begin again.
In my professional life, moments of struggle in lesson planning, classroom management, or student engagement have pushed me to innovate. Each unsuccessful attempt has helped me understand my learners more deeply and refine my teaching methods. Personally, too, failures have strengthened my ability to balance responsibilities, manage emotions, and stay grounded.
By modelling this mindset for my students, I help them see that mistakes are not reasons to give up but stepping stones to success. I encourage them to analyse their errors, try new approaches, and believe in their potential. When children understand that failure is part of growth, they develop confidence, empathy, and perseverance.
In this way, both teacher and students move forward—stronger, wiser, and ready to achieve their best life.
