Not-Teacher's Day

I suppose I eventually had to face up to this fact. Today, a year and a half after the machine stopped me, I am no longer fulfilling my former ecological role. In the ecology of society, there are places for the 'mass ability developers' known as teachers, and I'm not one of those anymore.

But in some sense, I have migrated to another niche in the ecology. I'm now a 'force multiplier', able to leap tall buildings at a single bound work diligently on 1-6 (or as some of my friends would say, d6) students and produce massive non-linear improvements. It's a specialised niche; I now earn a hundred times more per student per hour than I used to.

In fact, it's a lot like a medical doctor chained to the wheel of existence in a busy general hospital who, after many a summer spent not taking a holiday, suddenly decides to go into private practice. Then, serendipitously, he discovers that many of his former patients have decided to either continue having him for specialist care or recommend him to their friends.

Of course, there's still a sense of loss; there's a sense of being out of the bustle of things. It's not a big loss though, although I miss interacting with the huge and wonderful variety of patients students I used to see. I miss the classroom quite badly. But I'm no longer there.

Today is therefore Not-Teacher's Day for me. :(

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!

Not Teaching?

I was in this fog of fatigue last night. At the same time, some sort of text conversation occurred on my phone.

Wolfberry: HAPPY TEACHERS' DAY!

Me: Hello dear... Thanks. It kinda feels like that was a very long time ago.

W: No it wasn't. Don't feel sad. You don't have to be in a school to be a teacher you know (:

Me: Heh. I feel oddly reassured. You might just have made my night.

W: That's great! But all I did was point out a fact. (It always helps to have someone on the outside to do these things.) It's true okay. Be happy (:

And yes, I am a lot happier now. And I am still a teacher, even in the cold light of the morning.

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Note: How on earth do wolfberries figure out when someone is sad? Was it that obvious?

Jade & Gold

I once knew a lady whose name was Jade/Gold. It's a fairly traditional Straits Chinese name, and one which connotes a certain excellence of nature, status, behaviour, and culture. This is a long overdue post.

The lady I speak of had very sharp instincts. While she could be cutting to some, she was genuinely kind to many; often, she would restrain herself and get to the root of a matter, rather than belabour the already-suffering victim of her wrath. She was talented and intelligent as a researcher and an observer of political events. Yet, unlike with so many of that ilk, she deliberately chose not to enter into political factionalism, manipulate, curry favour with, or cause divisions amongst her colleagues.

She was respected as a teacher, valued as a colleague, wise as a mentor. While there are some who said she was selfish or self-serving, my considered opinion (and that of decades of her students) remains the same: she gave of herself to those who deserved, to some of those who did not deserve, and even to some of those who deserved nothing at all. But she was wise in knowing her limits and impeccable in explaining why she would or would not do something.

She has since gone to a better place, from which she communicates by email. Strangely enough, many heroes of that long-forgotten dynasty still live there, and some even visit here once in a while. With them gone, the earthly city is bereft of some very useful and uncommon talent; it is all very well to say that no one is irreplaceable, but when you take out a tooth, the replacement (even if made from sapphire and titanium) is just not YOUR tooth. It's like replacing jade and gold with paper money. The substitution might be adequate, but the intrinsic value is depleted.