The unwiped memory

So coloured my life is and so coloured those days. I can remember but it is for God's sake it seems to me everytime I'm in her premises. Oh! My Alma Mater, Oh! Those days, I always mutter come back, come back please.
I admitted here in class two in section A. But at the commencment I've started my expedition in a wrong way as I took part in the class of section B in the very first day of my school life. In that little age I was surprised at why my teacher didn't call my name? But for being afraid I didn't ask so.
Then at the last progress report of the annual exam my roll number suddenly descended from 48 to 7. Amazed? Not really descended, descended in number but ascended in progress. But my class roll number became 6 in the next class. I can remember Brother Binoy who taught us by tape, a special way of learning English. We were spellbound in his teaching style.
Class 4. My roll number didn't flactuate. One of my best memories for this class is severe punishment given by our respectable Teacher Mr. Abdus Sobhan to many of us. Not our first boy could get rid of this. The reason was many of us were laughing during one minute vow of silence for a news of death of somebody I can't remember. Actually I can't call up my mind also for what we were laghuing. His punishment style was strange and we gave it a name "Frog style." But the finishing was pathetic. Everybody bagan to cry and beg pardon to him one after another and he also released successively.
Then for the first time I acquired place. Among three my roll was two in class five. Some of my friend and me were assembladged for a mission to demoted the position of our first boy and replace one of us there. We succeded and me and Romeo jointly possesed the place.