Still A Teacher
It's Teachers' Day today, in the city-state which became my home many years ago. I was a teacher for 15 years; I taught at my last school for more than 12 years and only left this March. I felt that I had left a large chunk of my life behind, but in a sense it had been falling apart, falling away, since December last year.
Looking back, I was already burning out; like many of my colleagues, we'd burned hot and fast for the first graduating high-school batch we'd ever had since 1977. Our students of the 2007 batch would be going on to universities, if not into compulsory national service or into a gap year for the growth of the soul.
So this Teachers' Day meant a few things to me. It meant that I was officially (or so I thought) no longer a teacher. It meant that old things had passed away, that things I used to value had to be locked up in old rooms. It meant that those who didn't want me to teach the way I had been teaching could be allowed their victory at long last.
But since Friday I've been receiving messages from former students who were mine as long ago as 1993. They all tell me a few things which make me re-examine myself. (Heh, it must be some sort of retribution for me examining them all those years ago.) They say, most of all, in all kinds of touching ways, that a) I'm still a teacher to them, and b) I was a teacher who changed things for them.
Of course, those who never felt that way would not say anything, so my sample is biased. But that's not the point. The point is that I have many things to thank my students for. There are still those who remember what was good, and are willing to overlook the mediocre. And I must thank them all for reminding me that I'm still a teacher, and nobody can take that away from me.
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Note: I must also thank my colleagues, ranging from the 20-somethings to the 60-somethings, for all the encouragement. Yes, the best is yet to be. Yes, I may someday teach in school again. Yes, I will work harder on my PhD and try and get it over with. Heh. And to the ivy that grows in colder clime, I thank you for the gift of flowers and cheer!
Looking back, I was already burning out; like many of my colleagues, we'd burned hot and fast for the first graduating high-school batch we'd ever had since 1977. Our students of the 2007 batch would be going on to universities, if not into compulsory national service or into a gap year for the growth of the soul.
So this Teachers' Day meant a few things to me. It meant that I was officially (or so I thought) no longer a teacher. It meant that old things had passed away, that things I used to value had to be locked up in old rooms. It meant that those who didn't want me to teach the way I had been teaching could be allowed their victory at long last.
But since Friday I've been receiving messages from former students who were mine as long ago as 1993. They all tell me a few things which make me re-examine myself. (Heh, it must be some sort of retribution for me examining them all those years ago.) They say, most of all, in all kinds of touching ways, that a) I'm still a teacher to them, and b) I was a teacher who changed things for them.
Of course, those who never felt that way would not say anything, so my sample is biased. But that's not the point. The point is that I have many things to thank my students for. There are still those who remember what was good, and are willing to overlook the mediocre. And I must thank them all for reminding me that I'm still a teacher, and nobody can take that away from me.
=====
Note: I must also thank my colleagues, ranging from the 20-somethings to the 60-somethings, for all the encouragement. Yes, the best is yet to be. Yes, I may someday teach in school again. Yes, I will work harder on my PhD and try and get it over with. Heh. And to the ivy that grows in colder clime, I thank you for the gift of flowers and cheer!
Labels: Celebration, Teacher, Teaching, Thanksgiving
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