When the chalk fades, the lessons remain

In a time when education is increasingly measured by grades, rankings, and outcomes, Sneha Khanwelkar speaks of something far less tangible—and far more enduring. “What stays with students is not always what you taught,” she reflects, “but how you made them feel when they were still figuring out who they were.”

Her latest memoir, ‘The Echo of My Chalk – A Teacher’s Enduring Bonds’, draws from her years as an educator at SPM English School in Pune. Rather than focusing on syllabi or academic milestones, the book traces the emotional architecture of teaching—the pauses between lessons, the silences that speak louder than instruction, and the bonds that outlive the classroom itself.

“For me, the classroom was never just a physical space,” Sneha says. “It was emotional terrain. Every day, students walked in carrying stories they didn’t always know how to tell. Teaching meant listening before speaking.”

That belief animates the memoir. Through understated, closely observed moments, Sneha captures the inner life of a teacher: the uncertainty before entering a class, the quiet relief when a struggling student finally understands, the gradual trust that forms not through authority, but consistency. “Sometimes,” she writes, “the most important lesson is simply showing up—again and again—with patience.”

One of the book’s most affecting elements is the inclusion of voices from former students. Their recollections—of encouragement offered at the right moment, of discipline delivered with kindness, of words that stayed with them long after school—turn the memoir into a shared remembrance. Sneha sees these testimonials not as validation, but as revelation. “You rarely know, in the moment, what will matter later,” she says. “A sentence you say in passing can become a student’s anchor years down the line.”

The title itself gestures to this idea of lingering impact. Chalk fades from the blackboard, but its echo—emotional, ethical, human—endures. “Teaching is full of invisible outcomes,” Sneha explains. “You may never witness them directly, but they unfold quietly in the lives your students go on to live.”

This sensitivity to resilience and inner transformation is familiar to readers of her earlier book, ‘Deserving – A Real-Life Story of a Widow Who Rebuilt Her Life’. While that work explored personal loss and renewal, ‘The Echo of My Chalk’ situates similar themes within the collective rhythm of a school. “The classroom,” she notes, “is life in miniature—failure, effort, vulnerability, growth, all happening side by side.”

Central to the memoir is Sneha’s conviction that education is reciprocal. “Teachers shape students, yes,” she says, “but students shape teachers just as deeply. Every batch leaves something behind—new perspectives, new questions, even new courage.”

She resists idealising the profession. There are no grand declarations, no sweeping theories. Instead, the book dwells in the ordinary: a look exchanged across a classroom, a moment of shared silence, a student who needed belief before instruction. “The biggest successes in education,” Sneha observes, “are rarely measurable. They’re felt.”

In doing so, the memoir quietly challenges prevailing narratives around achievement and performance. It asks readers to reconsider what truly counts as success. Confidence restored. Curiosity sparked. Dignity preserved. “If those things happen,” Sneha says simply, “then teaching has done its work.”

Ultimately, ‘The Echo of My Chalk’ is both tribute and reminder—a testament to the enduring power of meaningful education and the human bonds formed within it. Though rooted in the life of a teacher, its resonance extends far beyond the classroom. “We all remember someone who believed in us,” Sneha reflects. “This book is my way of honouring that belief—and passing it forward.”

In a world eager to quantify progress, Sneha Khanwelkar offers a quieter truth: lessons may end, but the echoes of care, attention, and faith continue—sometimes for a lifetime.