Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The problem with God given free will and countless options is that it is being given to people like yours truly. Because fickle minded people, with sometimes questionable grounds, with hopes tethered to shaky pillars of idealistic dreams need to be shown those arrow neon lights sometimes. Wave them if you will.
What are you doing it for? Really, what are you doing it for?
Being thrown that question during a discussion over scrumptious weekend breakfast has made me ponder about many things. I can't say that I have always imagined where I would be after graduation. What I really wanted to do with my life. Never. I went with the flow, somehow never taking the time to question if what the world wanted of me was what I truly wanted of myself. My blithe nature allowed it. Not something I am particularly proud of but my past is something I have come to accept.
Discussing life issues with like-minded people can be immeasurably satisfying. I thoroughly enjoy those long heart to heart sessions. It makes me thankful that though life sometimes hasn't gone the way you imagined it to be, there are people around you sharing the same sentiments, hopes and disappointments, who are willing to charge with you every step of the way. Knowing you are not alone, being sometimes fragile empty vessels, it makes a world of difference to know someone will have your back come rain or shine. And by pure grace from God, you met those blessed souls on this fragmentary life on earth.
Having said that, we juggled the idea of teaching after watching a video about educating kids from our home country. A wise government decision, finally. We immersed ourselves in the notion of touching and imparting knowledge on young minds. What can be more noble right? And we did feel we would do it for the right reasons, not to glorify ourselves in any case. We agreed on numerous levels that educators were under appreciated. Not only in the country we hailed from, but many a countries. In a blink of an eye, education can be taken for granted. And with a deep rooted regret, it usually is.
The conversation brought back fond memories of the time when I spent 2 months as a substitute English teacher for my former primary school after a spur of the moment decision of deciding to apply for a job before my first year of tertiary studies. And that experience is always a testament and a solid reminder that the best things in life are not materialistic things.
I remember vividly that first day. Somehow, the large iron gates did not seem as big, nor as tall. Stepping past them did not seem as daunting either. The children, enough said. I could sense that my presence, not being much older than them yet standing at the front with the other teachers, piqued their curiosity to no end. Here I was, evidently the youngest teacher at the time, having no experience dealing with a class full of hormone driven, bursting with energy kids. They probably sensed my fear. I had truckloads of it to spare. Amidst the fear, I had hoped that my innate eagerness to please and impart the pittance of knowledge I felt I possessed at the time shone through. Rest assured, I'm much more comfortable in my own skin now. The knowledge is still questionable. That is for another time.
And the first advise the other teachers gave to me was not to smile when I entered the classroom. Strange? I definitely thought so. Apparently, I looked too sweet. Not to sound narcissistic in any way of course. I knew that I was an easy target if I showed I was a pushover for a teacher. And it was tough, to be tough. Needless to say, I failed miserably on the first thing I was not suppose to do. To smile.
The kids, on some days, were hard to control. I cannot even begin to lie. Teaching to me, never was a problem. It was the part of making sure they understood, to question if they did not, to pay attention and with diligence, finish their homework that was the tricky bit. To show me the respect I deserved as a teacher, first and a friend, second. Some days were hell, but for the most part, it was blissfully easy. They were adorable to say the least. And most of them listened to me at least, even those that were a little difficult to handle would eventually begrudgingly do so.
In retrospect, it was the small things they did, with open hearts, not expecting anything in return that I remember them most for. The moment I stepped past the school gates with my mountain of books, not less than four of my students would run up to me offering to carry them to the staff room. Mind you, they were eager to do it. The older boys, I still remember were sometimes cheeky. Asking about my personal life. And in good nature, I enjoyed the attention, and threw back the nonchalant answers I knew they wanted to hear, to get a giggle out of them. The way they called me 'Teacher Sara', in their cutesy little voices. I think at the time, the hardest part for me was to be stern. I tried, failed, and tried again. It wasn't easy, and the days where you regret giving them that first smile were many, making you want to pull out every single strand of hair. But you learn with time, things happen for a reason and sometimes, the hurdles you go through make you a stronger person.
When it came time for me to bid farewell, I could quote the infamous line that parting was such sweet sorrow. And they seemed genuinely sad I was leaving. I felt it too. My one regret was not taking a picture with them. I can't recall my reason for not doing it. I really can't. I suppose a mental image would have to suffice.
I left the school four years ago. And the best part? Recently, an ex-student, sent me a message asking if I remember them. And with ever good nature unabashed boldness, he says that he misses me and the old days when I used to teach them. That feeling, of knowing you made such an impact, cannot be described in mere words. Its a testimony that you were not a sheer subject in someone's life. You meant something. And you can kid yourself, or maybe not, that each kid has ingrained a poignant memory of you. Hey, if that thought gets you through a hard day, it never killed anyone.
I've reached a conclusion that no matter what, I would be most happy if I knew I was being remembered for something worthwhile. For posterity's sake, I hope I did leave a good impression on those bright young minds. And I won't delude myself into thinking each kid remembers me. Even on days when I wish the world was more my idealistic world, I am pragmatic to a certain extent. But being pragmatic doesn't mean a girl can't dream.
