Sometimes when perspective is skewed I can feel a bit depressed, hopeless.
But there are also moments when I feel thankful for everything I have. At CNY when people talk about prosperity, it's a good time to think of how prosperous I really am, in so many ways. I'm thankful for my family, for my kids, for having found something to do that gives me purpose. I'm thankful for friends in this journey. I'm thankful for what I have and who I am, and how far I've come.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
A few things have changed since I've started teaching:
1. All kids are now my kids. If I'm trying to watch out for a wandering child or gently guiding a random child to the right direction, it's because I feel somewhat responsible for them. If I see a bunch of teenagers loitering outside the local KFC, I think these are just like my students - I push aside the urge to go and give them a stern warning and ask them to go study.
2. I see people differently. When I saw some detainees at the police station, I thought. ..what if some of my kids turn out like this, and pray that none of them do. When my car was broken into (along with two of my other friends' ) I thought ... I guess this is why I teach for Malaysia too. And I hoped that if one day it was any of my kids who ended up in these gangs who did these things, when they realise it's my car they'll say 'This is teacher's. She was kind to us.' And stop, and maybe leave a note which said 'Sorry teacher'.
3. I have a tendency to scold people who are acting like kids. It comes from being on my toes all day keeping kids to their best expected behaviour.
4. I'm a lot more organised now. Because, all that teaching and talking to kids about being the best they can be and not forgetting their homework. Also as a teacher being organised is a matter of survival.
5. I now envy different things. I now envy people who've done really well with their students, or who have great classroom management or see moments in their students of things clicking in the right way. I envy these and would like so much to see these happen - for my kids, but also for myself. This may or may not be good, but i guess it's better than envying how good others look or how much fun they're having.
1. All kids are now my kids. If I'm trying to watch out for a wandering child or gently guiding a random child to the right direction, it's because I feel somewhat responsible for them. If I see a bunch of teenagers loitering outside the local KFC, I think these are just like my students - I push aside the urge to go and give them a stern warning and ask them to go study.
2. I see people differently. When I saw some detainees at the police station, I thought. ..what if some of my kids turn out like this, and pray that none of them do. When my car was broken into (along with two of my other friends' ) I thought ... I guess this is why I teach for Malaysia too. And I hoped that if one day it was any of my kids who ended up in these gangs who did these things, when they realise it's my car they'll say 'This is teacher's. She was kind to us.' And stop, and maybe leave a note which said 'Sorry teacher'.
3. I have a tendency to scold people who are acting like kids. It comes from being on my toes all day keeping kids to their best expected behaviour.
4. I'm a lot more organised now. Because, all that teaching and talking to kids about being the best they can be and not forgetting their homework. Also as a teacher being organised is a matter of survival.
5. I now envy different things. I now envy people who've done really well with their students, or who have great classroom management or see moments in their students of things clicking in the right way. I envy these and would like so much to see these happen - for my kids, but also for myself. This may or may not be good, but i guess it's better than envying how good others look or how much fun they're having.
Monday, January 20, 2014
It feels odd sometimes just to watch the chapters of your life turn. I remember times when I was depressed, when I had lost hope and did not know a purpose for my life. I remember times when death felt so close, constantly on my mind. I'm past that now. I have grown a lot, learned a lot, discovered a lot.
Its another chapter now, and I'm going through a few things. And for the first time, i feel like age is happening to me. When i was young i used to observe that i never want to be bitter and angry when i got older. I guessed that it was something that happened with age, with losing the sense of wonder, with being jaded with the world. I told myself i would never be that. Now i see it happening. Its a curious awareness, observing yourself gradually losing some innocence. Finding in yourself some bitterness that was never there before.
I used to regard everyone with wonder - i saw everyone as good. I used to naturally put being polite first. Now, most people annoy me. I find myself being more okay with being mean like never before. I used to have pure intentions, and wished good for everyone. Now, like a creeping demon i discover with shock a twinge of anger at other's happiness. How can this be? But so I find it. I wonder if its just a natural phase.. if its age, finally catching up on me.. i was pure like a child for a long time, not really getting how the people around me could be the way they sometimes can be, callous, bitter. Maybe they grew up faster. Now a divide is being cut out, and it is where my intentions are tested and i have to make a deliberate choice. how will i deliberately live?
On the other hand, I wonder if there is a root to this bitterness.. something i need to get to and resolve, within myself. Something that needs to be unhinged, made peace with. Maybe..
Its another chapter now, and I'm going through a few things. And for the first time, i feel like age is happening to me. When i was young i used to observe that i never want to be bitter and angry when i got older. I guessed that it was something that happened with age, with losing the sense of wonder, with being jaded with the world. I told myself i would never be that. Now i see it happening. Its a curious awareness, observing yourself gradually losing some innocence. Finding in yourself some bitterness that was never there before.
I used to regard everyone with wonder - i saw everyone as good. I used to naturally put being polite first. Now, most people annoy me. I find myself being more okay with being mean like never before. I used to have pure intentions, and wished good for everyone. Now, like a creeping demon i discover with shock a twinge of anger at other's happiness. How can this be? But so I find it. I wonder if its just a natural phase.. if its age, finally catching up on me.. i was pure like a child for a long time, not really getting how the people around me could be the way they sometimes can be, callous, bitter. Maybe they grew up faster. Now a divide is being cut out, and it is where my intentions are tested and i have to make a deliberate choice. how will i deliberately live?
On the other hand, I wonder if there is a root to this bitterness.. something i need to get to and resolve, within myself. Something that needs to be unhinged, made peace with. Maybe..
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
For many months, I have been struggling to find the words to talk about this year; my first year of teaching, first year of my fellowship with Teach For Malaysia. At times I felt like I should share joys and successes; at times I wanted to be completely honest and talk about failures, about impossibilities, about how our efforts are inevitably flailing in the face of a situation so huge, a problem so complex. I struggled between being crudely realistic and being optimistically positive. Mostly, I struggled with a messy, noisy, blank - a bag full of things to express, but nothing intelligible.
And then my friend Constance said something very profound - or rather, quoted it :
"For those who have, more will be given to them."
It stuck with me for days. I thought, yes. That's what it is. Because I feel like I have had nothing exceptional to offer this year, and yet - some things have worked out... astonishingly well. I think back to the good things that have happened this year - the students who show growth in exams and attitudes in class; the students who in my classes now know their place in the world to think carefully about things and express their opinions. A trip to university that still lights up the eyes of those who went. Being vouched for by the district education office, with the opportunity to work together and share knowledge on a larger scale, next year.
When we were starting out, we never imagined some of these turning out the way they did. We talk about it and say - It feels like a lot of things this year happened by accident. A stroke of luck.
We say this because throughout the year, I did not feel like I was winning, at all. Night after night, I slept restlessly and woke up the next day, panicky because I did not know what to do. I planned lessons but was obsessed with how it would turn out; mostly the thought of entering class and dealing with 30 students made me anxious. Nothing makes you feel as vulnerable as teaching in front of a class of young students. I had no control over how my students behaved, no confidence that they would listen to anything I said or do anything I asked them to do. My failures are apparent in the kid who is disengaged, sleeping, talking, or walking and throwing stuff. My lack of authority is glaring in the student who blatantly refuses when I ask him nicely to do his work or switch seats. It is emasculating. More than once, I felt like being observed teaching was like being naked in a room full of people.
Day after day we tried and failed, and the next day we tried again. Some days it took everything I had to dress up and show up. Some days I felt too powerless and stayed at home in bed. A constant fight or flight mode - moments when every weak nerve in my body scream to get away from the situation, and I have to fight and do it anyway. Show up anyway. Go into class anyway. Teach anyway.
But this is where what Constance quoted is important - 'To those who have, more will be given.'
We had little, but we were faithful with what we had. We put our little to action. We tried and tried and tried. When we felt heartbroken, we came back the next day, training our love to be bigger. And seeing this, our schools and systems gave us more to match our efforts. Our students were able to respond in kind, with some fruits of what we have sown. This is what makes it worth it.
This is the most important and affirming lesson I will learn this year. Sometimes faith, love and action are all there is, and it is enough. It wasn't luck, fortunate accidents or an arbitrary flow of events that magically gave us what we gained. It was being faithful with what we had and putting them into action.
Because of that we can leave this year with more...and next year we can trust that more more will be added to it.
And then my friend Constance said something very profound - or rather, quoted it :
"For those who have, more will be given to them."
It stuck with me for days. I thought, yes. That's what it is. Because I feel like I have had nothing exceptional to offer this year, and yet - some things have worked out... astonishingly well. I think back to the good things that have happened this year - the students who show growth in exams and attitudes in class; the students who in my classes now know their place in the world to think carefully about things and express their opinions. A trip to university that still lights up the eyes of those who went. Being vouched for by the district education office, with the opportunity to work together and share knowledge on a larger scale, next year.
When we were starting out, we never imagined some of these turning out the way they did. We talk about it and say - It feels like a lot of things this year happened by accident. A stroke of luck.
We say this because throughout the year, I did not feel like I was winning, at all. Night after night, I slept restlessly and woke up the next day, panicky because I did not know what to do. I planned lessons but was obsessed with how it would turn out; mostly the thought of entering class and dealing with 30 students made me anxious. Nothing makes you feel as vulnerable as teaching in front of a class of young students. I had no control over how my students behaved, no confidence that they would listen to anything I said or do anything I asked them to do. My failures are apparent in the kid who is disengaged, sleeping, talking, or walking and throwing stuff. My lack of authority is glaring in the student who blatantly refuses when I ask him nicely to do his work or switch seats. It is emasculating. More than once, I felt like being observed teaching was like being naked in a room full of people.
Day after day we tried and failed, and the next day we tried again. Some days it took everything I had to dress up and show up. Some days I felt too powerless and stayed at home in bed. A constant fight or flight mode - moments when every weak nerve in my body scream to get away from the situation, and I have to fight and do it anyway. Show up anyway. Go into class anyway. Teach anyway.
But this is where what Constance quoted is important - 'To those who have, more will be given.'
We had little, but we were faithful with what we had. We put our little to action. We tried and tried and tried. When we felt heartbroken, we came back the next day, training our love to be bigger. And seeing this, our schools and systems gave us more to match our efforts. Our students were able to respond in kind, with some fruits of what we have sown. This is what makes it worth it.
This is the most important and affirming lesson I will learn this year. Sometimes faith, love and action are all there is, and it is enough. It wasn't luck, fortunate accidents or an arbitrary flow of events that magically gave us what we gained. It was being faithful with what we had and putting them into action.
Because of that we can leave this year with more...and next year we can trust that more more will be added to it.
Friday, September 6, 2013
For two days i have been lying in bed; unaware of time, or what was happening to the world outside. i did not, could not step outside. i could not look at people, much less talk to them. i felt only like a crumbling piece, falling apart as i shuffled my feet, trying to gather them all together, hide them. i did not shower or eat. only one person cared or knew enough to penetrate through the thick sticky walls of my aloneness - i ruined her night.
This is the lowest i have been, i feel. but maybe not, because i used to be like this for weeks on end. it feels like rock bottom because, because now the responsibilities are greater. i have children to teach, who look to me, who i desire to help nurture, grow. i face 28 eyes staring at me, waiting. i am crumbling as i try to speak. i am falling apart, in front of 28 children. i cannot speak. i cannot address them. i want just to curl up in a ball and wait for it to pass.
i am afraid for what might happen when i have children of my own. will the same happen? will i get the same feeling of having more responsibility than i can bear, crumbling beneath the wait, as these poor innocent ones, stare, waiting for me to come back to my senses? i want so much to have mastered this, have this in control before that time. maybe now is a good time to train, and practice. i never want to fall apart like that again. i want to have too much to the point of breaking, but know exactly what to do to pick myself back up, put myself together, and trudge on, composed.
This is the lowest i have been, i feel. but maybe not, because i used to be like this for weeks on end. it feels like rock bottom because, because now the responsibilities are greater. i have children to teach, who look to me, who i desire to help nurture, grow. i face 28 eyes staring at me, waiting. i am crumbling as i try to speak. i am falling apart, in front of 28 children. i cannot speak. i cannot address them. i want just to curl up in a ball and wait for it to pass.
i am afraid for what might happen when i have children of my own. will the same happen? will i get the same feeling of having more responsibility than i can bear, crumbling beneath the wait, as these poor innocent ones, stare, waiting for me to come back to my senses? i want so much to have mastered this, have this in control before that time. maybe now is a good time to train, and practice. i never want to fall apart like that again. i want to have too much to the point of breaking, but know exactly what to do to pick myself back up, put myself together, and trudge on, composed.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
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